[Questions] for tubers
WHO: Saliqa, Taikrin, Z'yi, Xeoshen
WHERE: Kitchen, HRW
WHAT: There're some questions for the rider, to which a convict is opposed and another one joins in. Also, that Crom girl continues to show no respect at all for a convict's reputation.
Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr
Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.
The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
It's on the later side for meals, but that doesn't mean there isn't a fair amount of activity in the kitchen still. There's the late eaters, the recent dishes to be done, and the next day to be prepared for. There's also an exasperated greenrider strolling in with a glance over his shoulder that suggests he thought coming in here mighty somehow have thrown off his unwanted company. But, oblivious to this behavior, Saliqa pushes into the semi-busy kitchen right after him, her hands pulling her skirts up so she can attempt to keep up with a much longer-legged pace. "--simple enough question, if you'd just hold on for a moment, it won't take me but a second to ask you and I'd really appreciate any wisdom you have to give on the matter. Understand this isn't just for me, this is for every candidate here and others in future generations--"
"C'mon, how many more of these I gotta do?" Taikrin appears to have roped herself into a late-night chore duty: she's standing at a sink, scrub-brush in her left hand, attacking one of giant pots used for preparing tonight's supper. "Ain't like I meant t'break it, y'know." There's a kitchen worker at the next sink over apparently overseeing her progress; to judge from the roll of the eyes, Taikrin's been complaining about this for a while. Likewise, there's the mandatory guard present-- but he seems to be more interested in chatting up one of the young cooks than actually keeping an eye on his charge. Saliqa's entrance is noted, though Taikrin doesn't seem much pleased to judge from the way she grimaces and hunches further over her dirty pot.
"Faranth's shiny ass, shove a biscuit in her mouth or something," Z'yi comments from his seat on a high barstool. He's not too far away from Taikrin at all, chopping tubers as if he's kitchen staff and not a bluerider as the cords on his shoulder indicate. The knifework he performs yields a rather precise dice, pieces uniformly square. The big bluerider seems content to go back to his work after his comment to the greenrider, though he keeps a laconic eye on the going-abouts around him.
Saliqa was already starting to look a tad irritated around the edges and she shoots this inquisitive look for blame around to find the originator of that comment. The greenrider seems to believe this is his well-orchestrated escape route, because he takes the girl by the shoulders and maneuvers her right into the empty seat next to Z'yi that she was glaring towards anyway. "Oh, look," he says brightly, "Here's Z'yi. He's /full/ of wisdom like that one just now. Good luck with the future!" And, dipping in beside Taikrin to snag a just-cleaned dish, he goes about stealing some food and making a clean break. Plopped into the seat, Saliqa drops her palms onto the table determinedly, but not enough force to shake the table and disturb any work. "If I could have a moment of your time." Winningly; it's not like he's going anywhere if he wants to finish his slicing.
Taikrin can't help it: despite her apparent desire to hide from Saliqa, she keeps glancing over to follow the other girl's exploits around the kitchen. At Z'yi's comment, her glower shifts into a downright scowl. "Oi, you leave 'er alone." The words spoken terribly loudly, but there is a hint of 'or else' in her tone. The kitchen work her beside her is terribly unamused: "Back to work, you lazy ingrate! Finish that sharding pot already!" Taikrin shifts her scowl back to the older, then, but rather than protest she merely resumes scrubbing. Vigerously. Very, /very/ vigerously. Witness the splashing!
"Sure. Here, have a knife, and some tubers. Cook'll kill you if they aren't even, though, so focus on making them all about the same size, you know?" Z'yi, cheerfully enough, shoving a sharp implement of DEATH - or just a regular knife, whatever you pick - to Saliqa, with her very own basket of the root vegetables. He keeps chopping, then comments, "You do good enough on the first three, then you can ask your question." Someone caught him on his Man PMS, evidently; he's typically not this deliberately perverse. To Taikrin, "Ha! You put up with all the crap I've put up with in the last few turns, /then/ you can tell me exactly where to shove it, girl," mildly stated in his deep bass: amused rather than annoyed. It's accompanied by an arching of eyebrows at the overseer, as if he's not quite sure that the dude's serious.
As if there weren't enough tubers in the kitchen already, here comes Xeoshen with another basket full. "Shards, we get enough tubers?" He says. moving to set the basket down near the rest of them. He nods to the overseer though, and to the others already here. "'ello." He greets them. he'd offer to cut or peel tubers, but who in the right mind would give a knife of doom to a con, right?
There's only a short second where Saliqa blinks at the knife like she doesn't know what it is. Then she brings a hand around to claim the handle of that implement. Though she handles the blade quite daintily at first, she brings it down with a good deal of authority on the first cut. The second one... well, it's interrupted by her distraction at discovering Taikrin's the one interjecting. Eyes fluttering to the corner with the sinks, she makes a rather indecent sideways cut through the tuber. After recovering, "Is that /really/ necessary?" Could be directed at either of them. Mostly she just keeps her head down, a sulky mouth upon discovering what she's done to the tuber in front of her. She's quiet the next few moments making the mistake look less like one and making better on the following piece.
The kitchen worker remains the unfortunate focus for Taikrin's glare, given the lack of other viable options. She continues the deliberately violent scrubbing for more than a few minutes before, finally, the worker flinches. "Alright, alright! Looks clean enough, I suppose." The glance the older woman shoots at the pot is decidedly nervous, and with a quick look at Z'yi she shoos Taikrin off. "There's a girl... why don't you go help the bluerider, and we'll just call it a night." For her part, Taikrin can't help but look a little smug as she drops the scrubbrush back into the sink with a clatter. "Whatever y'want, ma'am." Forget smug, the addition of the title makes her downright antagonistic.
And Z'yi's dastardly plot to get Saliqa to shut up actually /works/. Holy crap, he should do things that Isforaith suggests more often! Well, other than Searching convicts. "Kid," he greets Xeoshen, speaking of convicts Searched by his stupid lifemate. And then, hey, check it out, they're giving him more people! Awesome. "I'm pretty sure Tiri would kill me if I gave you knives," he directs to both convicts, "So--" A pause, "Go fetch me up a couple of those big soup pots, and start tearing some of that parsley into pieces into them, can you?" He nods with his chin towards a pile of freshly-washed leafy Reachian herb. "And some salt. I think we need salt." Squint. For the record? Isz doesn't do very well with this whole being-a-cook thing.
Hey, what's wrong with searching convicts? They're been good, other then nearly getting crushed into a tunnel collapse. Xeeoshen nods to Z'yi. "Ya think? I think alotta people would kill ya if ya did that." He remarks to the rider, and then eyes the pots, and goes to retrieve them, setting them down. "I think I can manage it, aye." He says.
Apparently when she feels challenged, Saliqa gets right on it. She ignores everything else around her for the pace of three meticulously cut tubers then sweeps these off to the side with the broad of her hand. The rest of the room comes into focus right about then, letting her glance over at both Xeoshen and Taikrin with a bright but distracted smile. Then she reaches next to her and draws out a stack of hides that she drops quite significantly on the table where she'd been cutting. "Alright, three tubers," she announces like she's taking records, "That means three questions." And she presses a finger against the first sign of marks on the hide to read off, "First: Does the queen dragon tell the other dragons who to Search?"
"What, not even if I don't use my stabbin' hand?" The fingers on Taikrin's casted right arm are wiggled for illustration. Her relatively light tone, coupled with the lopsidedly smug smile that's flashed at Saliqa indicate that she's kidding. Probably. She turns go to after Xeo, commenting, "Yeah, fine, Xeo can load me-- hey!" She's only halfway to the pots when she catches Saliqa's question; eyebrows crawl up towards her browline as she whirls around. "Y'can't ask /him/ that!"
"They could try," Isz comments to Xeo, unruffled. "I think Tiriana is the only one capable of finishing me off, though." The sentence comes out glum, as if he's not exactly excited about admitting that a woman could kill him. "But it'd be hot. Wouldn't it? Tiri in a bloodbath." That would be to Xeoshen, as he's not about to question the girls with such. He takes another swig from a flask nearby, perhaps giving light to his general good mood. Then he squints over towards Saliqa. "Three tubers is /one/ question," he corrects. "Hell no," is her first answer, and he gestures towards the tubers, making a chop-chop motion with a hand. "You chop, I'll talk. Searchdragons are uniquely suited to identifying some type of potential. My Isforaith, it's like a smell to him - others say it's an itch, some say it's a brightness. Hell if I know, but golds don't have the sense - and not too many bronzes have it, either, so that leaves all the little ones finding the next crop of dragonriders, for the most part." Holy crap, that was a speech. He wets his whistle again, and gets back to his own chopping, eyeballing Taikrin from time to time. "Why can't she ask me that?" Belatedly, of course, now that he's, y'know, answered.
Xeoshen snickers. "It would be hot, aye, would be interesting to see. Tiri seems like a strong woman, bet she's one shell of a fighter." He remarks, and raises an eyebrow at Saliqa's question. "If the queen had her say, non of us Con's probably woulda been searched." He tells the girl, and then looks at Taikrin. "What were you going to say?" He asks her, and then looks to Z'yi at his lecture. "Why don't the gold, and bronzes have the sense for it?" He asks, what? Z'yi didn't say he couldn't ask a question.
This nice proper lady over here is going to pretend that other conversation isn't going on; she looks surprised more than settled at Taikrin's smugness. "I can't write it down if I'm chopping," Saliqa replies matter-of-factly, even as she pulls a quill from we're-not-sure-where and begins scribbling in a delicate but unpracticed hand. Her concentration is fully on this, the forming of the letters clearly needing all of her effort, so she doesn't glance up again until he's stopped talking. Even then, she has to finish off a few words on her own. "He's perfect to ask," she insists into the air somewhere in Taikrin's direction, "His, uh, Isfor...a..-- aith. Isforaith!-- has been directly involved." With only a passing glance for the work he's suggested she get back to, she declares, "Fine. Two questions. Next: Has your dragon ever expressed the desire to eat a person?"
"'Cause-- because she /can't/!" is Taikrin's strangled reply to Z'yi. "/Saliqa/! What're ya--- augh!" She throws her good hand up into the air in exasperation, then pivots once more to stalk off towards the previously-indicated pots. There's sound of disguntled muttering that accompanies her there and back again, but by the time she's returned near enough to be audible -- and with two pots in tow -- it breaks off. "Can't believe yer askin' him this." The look Taikrin gives Saliqa is, well, a bit scandalized. "An' you!" To Xeoshen, this time. "Quit eggin' her on!"
Severely, "That's Weyrwoman Tiriana to you, kid," Z'yi to Xeoshen, obviously. But he does answer the guy's question nonetheless with another, "Hell if I know. Why don't girls have di--" A glance over to Saliqa, and he rephrases. "Why are some breeds of runners only solid colors? They're just made like that," with a shrug of big shoulders. "I-S-F-O-R-A-I-T-H," he spells to Saliqa, meanwhile, and, "Get to chopping if you want an answer." His main focus turns, however, to Taikrin, and he considers the girl with a thoughtful air. "And what's your deal, kiddo? I'm not about to kill a person for asking me a question." He may /look/ like someone who eats children for breakfast, but he's not that bad, really. "Or are you scared of the answer?" A crooked grin, terribly lopsided, at the idea of this - and oh hey, look, Z'yi's thirsty again. At this rate he's going to run out and be one giant sad panda.
Xeoshen snickers as he listens, and grabs a stool as a seat, or, this was turning informative indeed. "Hey, his dragon /searched/ me, so I aint complaining." He remarks, and looks to Taikrin. "What? I can't add my own comments ta this?" He asks her, and then shrugs, looking back to the blue rider, and fellow candidate. "If he's putting up with it, I think she oughtta be allowed to ask." He shrugs, and sits down on his perch. "So whatta we doin'? Pullin' thesr things apart?" He asks, and picks up some of said vegetables.
I-S-F... Saliqa takes the spelling of the dragon's name quite seriously, after the loud throat-clearing that turned out to be unneeded when Z'yi changed his phrase. As she sets the quill on top of the hide and slides both of these to the side, her gaze lifts to Taikrin. "Plenty of people are coming to the Weyr with these ideas. Don't see any harm in making sure there's less, umm... you know, when people don't understand each other. Or make assumptions. Make assumptions, that's good." Nodding, she plucks up the next two tubers, slicing them side-by-side to make the cuts on each exactly the same. She isn't as fast as some, but she's done this before. She's even able to, at one point, glance up while not pausing her work to make sure Z'yi is really going to answer.
"I ain't scared!" Taikrin is quick enough to defend herself from that accusation, even as she punctuates her remark with the clatter of pots being dropped onto the counter. "She's just-- she ain't s'pposed to--" The convict breaks off, though her jaw continues working for a few seconds afterwords as though chewing on her words. Finally, sullenly towards Saliqa, "Fine. I ain't gonna stop ya. Can't believe yer askin' him, though." She collects an herb sprig with what some might describe as petulance (before Taikrin stabbed them to DEATH, anyways), and proceeds to maul it into a crushed green mass with her one good hand. "Yer as bad as her, Xeo."
"Yeah, just-- in little bunches. Like this," Z'yi reaches across, plucks a piece into inch-long pieces, drops them into the pan. "Ungrounded preconceived notions, I believe you're looking for," he offers so helpfully to Saliqa. "If, of course," and he levies his knife at her, point-first, "-they /are/ ungrounded." With his own return to chopping, he states, "While Isforaith has discussed many a time that there are several people he would like to see dead, he's never made any action towards a human being when hungry. Dragons aren't maneaters. Now," and that blade is levied at the three of them, this time, "That doesn't mean a /baby/ dragon can't rip you throat to gut and leave you for dead on the Sands, but that's because they're confused out there, just babies. So all of you would do well to mind them if they start running." A pause. "And if they let you touch the eggs, you'd do well to mind your manners around Iovniath, too. Not sure how the mommas do, with the bunch of you clumsy lots around her babies," with a rather pointed look at Taikrin and her arm cast.
Xeoshen nods to Saliqa. "Aye, I agree with her, I didna grow up here, or live here, so this is good info ta hear." He says, and shrugs to Taikrin. "Hey, if I'm gonna be spendin' time here, I'd rather learn what I need ta know." He says to the female con, and nods to Z'yi, tearing the sprig as shown, and then tossing it into the pot, before he moves onto another one. He the4n blinks at Z'yi. "We get to /touch/ the eggs?" He asked, confused, and awed, seriously, they let them out there with them? "Right, so when ever they decide ta hatch, don't take yer eyes off them, and be ready ta run, got it."
Saliqa stiffens and leans hard into the back of her chair whenever there's a knife wielded unnecessarily at her, but she manages rather well to stretch her arms out and keep cutting even so. After a few more slices, she sets the knife gently down and tugs her hide closer in order to write down an approximation of what the rider's said. A few shifty glances, a bit of uncomfortable wriggling. Her lips press unhappily as she admits, "I don't know how to spell 'preconceived'." Again, the blade is wielded. This time, a definite pallor falls over her face, jaw slackening a bit and eyes widening if only to hold back a more extreme reaction. /Leave you for dead/. Questions and tubers are both abandoned in favor of a need to suddenly fix her hair. Still, she angles up at Xeoshen as he asks his own question with a certain amount of curiosity left.
Taikrin continues haphazardly smushing her greenery in a way that would make any chef cry-- gifted in the kitchen, she is not. "Told ya they would," is interjected after the Hatchling!Violence description, along with a dirty look shot towards Saliqa. "My ma said she saw it. Hatchling was hungry, so he got a piece." The pointed look is met by a pair of confusedly-raised eyebrows. "Touchin' em?" is asked, almost in time with Xeoshen. A glance is shot towards him, sidelong, but lacking some of her earlier venom. "For real?"
"P-R-E-C-O-N-C-E-I-V-E-D." Z'yi, the walking talking dictionary. He was delegated to scribing duties for months on end, so it should probably be no surprise that he /does/ have a firm grasp on the language. Distracted, belated, "Yeah, you get to touch the eggs... well, most candidates do," he amends. "I'm not sure if Tiriana is going to let the lot of you out there," with a hint of apology towards Xeo and Taik. Apparently unconcerned about his own 'leave for dead' comment, the bluerider goes to take a drink... and finds his flask dry. "Oh, this isn't happening," he announces. "Hey, finish up doing these tubers, will you?" he hollers to the nearest cook, offers a flagged hand to the trio, and shambles off to go get his buzz on moreso than it already is. "Hatchlings don't maim and then /eat/ their victims," he can be heard talking to himself, a mumble, while shaking his head; "Kids and their damned preconceived notions, these days..." and then, he's out of sight!
"Right, I fergot, us convicts are too dangerous ta touch them most likely." Xeoshen says, and rolls his eyes when the rider give him and Tai apologetic looks. "Aint like I'd purposefully hurt one, I like bein' in one piece." He says. "I doubt they'll happen anyway, wouldn't the Headwoman and them of mentioned them by now if they were goin' ta have them?" He asks the two ladies. Then again, maybe they just don't want the /convicts/ to know. He keeps ripping and tossing of the leeks. "This is better then the chore I had earlier."
Saliqa's so preoccupied by whatever images are flashing behind those worried eyes that she barely registers Z'yi leaving, much less his generous spelling for her. Coming out of the spell, she bats at her hair a second time and then presses quill to hide to pretend to be busy; it'd work a lot better if she had /something/ to writing. Composure returns after Xeoshen's talked a bit and she scoots her chair forward, letting her sit up straighter. The tubers are attended to because, well, she's already started. Only fair. "He didn't say /eat/," she shoots back to Taikrin, lips full and pouty, "And I don't see why you wouldn't want to know these things. What was all that fuss about?" Shaking her head, she lands on the male convict instead. "I'm sure they'll mention it when it's time to mention it."
The second Z'yi's back is turned, Taikrin discards all pretense of tearing herbs for soup with a disgusted snort. "Yeah, a'course he says that." The green-stained hand is wiped carelessly against the side of her pants as she turns attention towards Xeoshen. "Well /I/ only got four sevendays left, today. Reckon they're gonna lay off the guard crap then? Bet they won't." At Saliqa's comment, Taikrin whirls on her, suddenly full of remembered annoyance. "Why would y'go an' /ask/ him that?! Y'can't get a straight answer out of a /rider/, they're all /in/ on it, like. Now y'just let 'im know that yer on t'him!" Taikrin, lover of conspiracy theories. "Shards! I /told/ y'that!" A pause, during which she eyes Saliqa sideways, then: "An' don't give me that look."
Xeoshen keeps ripping, and tossing as he listens for the moment, and then shrugs to Saliqa. "Doesn't matter, I doubt me, Tai, and any of the other convicts will be allowed ta touch them eggs." He says, then again, he has been proven wrong once before, but this he was almost sure of. As the girls seem to argue, he drops off into silence, and just listens.
"You didn't say that at all!" Saliqa insists, lowering her voice to complement their subject, "And I never assume anyone's lying without them showing themselves to be unreasonable. Or if they're annoying. Or if I think they're trying to have me on." She thinks for a moment then, deciding that's the last one, inches her seat forward again -- this time closer to Xeoshen, and putting distance between her and the other girl. Having brought the knife with her, she resumes her work diligently. "They will if they mean what they say about treating all of you the same. Candidates all being equal, no matter what." Oh, and between words? She's definitely giving Taikrin /that look/.
Taikrin may not have the girly skills to pull off a matching /that look/ in return, but she can sure manage a sullen glower with the best of them. "I did! I know I did! Shards. Yer so bloody trusting! I don't know how y'ain't been robbed blind yet." A quick, sharp sigh is let out as she shifts her weight, folding her good arm across her chest in a stereotypically defensive gesture. "Y'know they don't. Call us equal. An' why're we supposed t'touch eggs anyways?" The question is directed at Xeoshen, because Taikrin is /quite firmly/ not looking at Saliqa. If she can't see that look, then it must not exist!
Xeoshen is the protector, oh boy, he didn't sign up for this. Oh well, he's not moving for now. "I dunno, they aint showed us very equal yet, I mean sure they took us out of the project, but look at the /chores/ we're gettin' now, we're gettin' all the ones nobody else wants ta do." He says, and shrugs to Taikrin. "I dunno, maybe so they don't leave us fer dead?" He suggests, which is /exactly/ why they wouldn't tell the cons, right? Who cares if the con's get mauled, and left for dead.
"They have said that, though," Saliqa informs Xeoshen comfortingly, because if Taikrin wants to play the ignoring game then she can do it, too. "I spoke with sir Weyrleader and that's what he said about it: candidates are candidates. I can't say as though it's bad, though finishing out your sentences is far more appropriate." She's become comfortable, stating such opinions even when both of her companions are the convicts themselves-- and she's holding a knife between them. "I guess I'll ask the egg question next." Humming thoughtfully, she sneaks a look at the girl-totally-who-isn't-there. Then, straightening a bit pompously, she even leans in to Xeoshen, putting a hand over his to get his private attention. "She only says it like that because she doesn't /want/ to see me robbed blind."
"Oh, the new ones ain't so bad," says the girl who's been spared the worst of it due to her broken arm. "Y'can get away with all kinds'a easy doin' pots." As Taikrin very aptly demonstrated earlier this very night. "Y'think it makes a difference?" She's all mistrustful skepticism with regards to the whole egg business. "I can't--" As Saliqa moves closer to Xeoshen, Taikrin can't help but notice... and mark that notice with an expression that varies somewhere between annoyance and jealousy. "I /can't/--", she continues louder, as if that would mask her discomfort at the very *idea* of Saliqa's suggestion, "--figure out what difference it'd make. Stuff in an egg ain't got no idea what's goin' on." Ignore, ignore, ignore. That's Taikrin's policy.
Girls are so weird, cute, but so weird, seriously, do they ever not fight over stuff? Then again, same could be said for some guys. "Right, well, don't mind me believin' it, till I see it, it's the Weyrwoman, and her queen that gotta let us on them sands, not the Weyrleader." The Weyrleader that Xeoshen's heard many here don't like either. He pauses at the hand on his, and turns to eye Saliqa. "Mmm, I suppose that would be true, though she'd never admit it." He says privately to the girl.
There's girls who do this better than Saliqa, though; she isn't batting her eyes or sticking out her chest (what chest?) to get the extra attention. She only gifts Xeoshen with a nice, shy in its genuineness, smile for his disclosure. "Well, I like knowing it anyway." Low, pointedly as if no one else in the room exists. Then her fingers slide to her own space and she's slicing and dicing once more, indulging in a bit more of a conversational tone. "My ma says that babies in their pregnant mothers can feel things. Emotions and the like. Hear music. Anyway, don't see as it'd be a right choice by the Weyrwoman, not that it's my place to say, but both of you have been nice and good to me and not like villains at all. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially when they seem to want to do right by it."
Taikrin, apparently, is feeling the sudden urge to do things with her hands... and that thing involves the horrible, throttling murder of more herbs. Ostensibly it's for the pot, because the mutilated mess does eventually end up in there, but the nearly audible gritting of teeth can't possibly be just for the benefit of the greenery. "Weyrleader seems okay," Taikrin allows through clenched teeth. At least she's making an effort to produce a smile, though it's looking a bit stiff around the edges. "Weyrwoman too, I guess. Said she wanted t'fight with me." And anyone who wants to go a round with Taikrin voluntarily is okay in her books. She unwinds a bit, slowly, when Saliqa moves back... but only so far. "Anyone ever asked th'babe what they know in there? 'Cause I'm thinkin' y'can't 'cause they don't /know/ nothing." Now she's being argumentative just for the sake of the thing: there's no actual heat in her voice, and her heart doesn't really seem to be in it.
Xeoshen rips and tosses some more, the poor abused vegies, such a short life, aand a terrible way to go. He nods to Saliqa. "Aye, it is good ta know." He agrees, and then speaks up as he addresses both. "Aye, but this is the eggs,." There's a difference, really there is, he'll just have to think of one. "A seconbd chance, yeah, that's what Z'yi said when he searched me, a way out." He remarks, and then looks to Tai. "I aint met her yet, I'll have ta try and meet up with her." He says, and then looks up as a kitchen worker slips up to him, and saying something about helping bring things in. He groans, and tosses his last leek into the pot. "Guess I'm back ta bein' a mule." He says, and slips off the stool. "See ya guys later." He says, and heads out of the kitchen.
The mighty act of ignoring something that's unpleasant is one Saliqa has mastered and she executes this to innocently bypass whatever's going on in Taikrin's corner for some time. Until such that the conversation clearly includes all of them again. Mouth moving in an echo of that sulky sourness of before, she imparts smartly, "Oh no, no, nobody's asked the babes. That'd be letting them know you're onto them." Huff huff, indignant shuffle. This mood snaps when she has to twist to see Xeoshen preparing to go, "Guess you are, goodbye for now, then!" She raises a hand to wave then brings it down to set her nicely cut tubers aside. A bit of a head-shake, she mutters distractedly, "I really must remember sometime when he's not running off that he owes letting me handle his clothes."
Taikrin's mouth moves in nearly-silent, mocking mimicry of Saliqa's 'letting them know you're onto them', though she's wary enough that it's only executed when Xeoshen turns to go and the girl's attention might be diverted. Louder, then, she calls after the other con with something that /might/ be vaguely threatening, "I'll catch ya later, Xeo." And then she's alone with Saliqa and a knife and is quite obviously uncomfortable with this fact. It doesn't stop her from blurting out, though, "What d'you /mean/ handle his clothes?! Thought y'didn't go in fer that sorta thing, /especially/ with us criminal-sorts." It's entirely possible that Taikrin has taken a not-so-innocent interpretation to that phrase.
Either it takes Saliqa a while to realize what's being insinuated, or she'd like it to look like it takes a while. Probably more the latter, based on the way her eyes narrow too thin, too fast. They widen again a moment later when she's affecting this innocence, hands dropping to smooth over her skirts for the first time in the evening. "That sorta-- oh! Shh, shh. Don't you be getting at that, not again. I'm fairly certain we've mentioned before that I'm helping Xeoshen /dress nicer/. Which, as it so happens, has to do with putting clothes /on/." Much as she was leaning for the male before, she doesn't hover towards Taikrin this time so that her voice lowering in volume becomes harder to hear; she doesn't want to give this topic that kind of acknowledgment.
"/You/ said it... I ain't gettin' at /nothin'/." Taikrin is all protesting innocence, really. Her voice does drop a bit as Saliqa's does, though not nearly to the same magnitude. "I don't care /what/ y'do with that boy, anyways," is the declaration, though the scowl that still graces her features might give lie to it. "Puttin' clothes on, off, whatever." A pause, then her voice becomes a bit more honest... and a bit more jealous. "Pretty boy like him, though, he don't need pretty clothes t'give him big ideas of himself."
"I didn't say what /you/ said," Saliqa shoots right back, hands tugging up fistfuls of fabric with every increment her eyebrows furrow. She has nothing to say to that middle section; though, that hot flush coloring the rich tone of her skin might say enough on its own. Eyes planted somewhere directly in front of Taikrin, she sniffs insulted-like. "Everyone needs pretty clothes once in a while. Nothing wrong feeling good about yourself, nor making a good impression on others. I think it'd be brilliant if he got big ideas-- get out of this stuck-in-the-mud convict attitude." Tossing her head to the side, she picks herself out of the chair and pushes it neatly in. "It's what I do, you know. My livin' stuff. Shame you hate it, since I bet I could give a pretty girl like you some ideas, too."
Taikrin wipes yet more green plant-parts down the side of her pants as she too pushes away from the table. "He's got a convict attitude 'cause he's a /convict/. Got himself in trouble in th'first place with fancy clothes. Yer just askin' for trouble." The last bit catches her off guard, though, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a flustered stammer. "Pretty wh-- I /ain't/ a pretty girl. I'm a-- a nasty, dirty criminal an'-- an' y'shouldn't even be talkin' to'me." The flush deepens, and a hand scuffs backwards through her hair in a nervous motion. "Y'don't want t'be givin' th'likes of me ideas."
Saliqa tilts her head patronizingly, "Well, at the end of his sentence, he won't be. And then better not to think like one or..." She gestures off to the side, off to some unknown fate. "You don't have to be dirty, of course. Or nasty, really." A business-like up and down examination of the other, "Besides, you said you'd help me. It's only right to return a favor. We can take one of your rest days, see if I can't change your mind after a nice wash and a bit of sparkle for you." Mention of sparklies cracks open a real, kind of delighted smile on her and she stops just short of clapping her hands together. Her stop has to do with the more casual way she has to deliver, "Anyway, you called me pretty once, so we already know your opinion's skewed. Excuse me, right? I've got another rider to seek out."
"Y--yes I do!" Taikrin clings to the shreds of her dignity by taking solace in her lack of grooming. "Part of bein' lowest of th'low. Uh. Servin' a punishment, right?" Her eyebrows draw together, and her speech is purposefully slow and deliberate as she attempts -- rather vainly -- to keep up. "Y'want t'give me a wash. An' a sparkle." It's possible those words aren't in her vocabulary in the way that they're being meant in this instance. "Uh... huh." She is, however, apparently a sucker for a smile, because she capitulates not long afterwards... but with a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. Next rest day. Go find yer rider. I'm just gonna--" A gesture is made at the mess of pots and vegetables. "-- clean this up. See y'later."
Saliqa worms her lips together to attempt to cover all that glee that she's getting her way. She ruins it by what happens next; she quite possibly also puts herself back on the murder list. But nothing can really stop the girl from taking the several strides to where Taikrin is, using that moment where attention is on the mess to swing her arms around and go in for the briefest most loose sense of a hug. She's almost instantly detached, perhaps only in her own excitement, because she's then scurrying happily out of the kitchen with just one smooth gesture to scoop up the hide and quill she left on the table. So much for dignity for some.
If anybody were to /ask/, Taikrin would attribute her quick flinch at Saliqa's hug-assault to be due to healing ribs; her expression is all surprise, though, instead of pain. She really has no time to react otherwise before the other girl is gone, leaving Tai to blink rather stupidly in her wake. A few moments are spent reeling, then she slowly gathers herself. One quick, murderous look is flashed around the room just in case anybody happened to be paying attention -- there are appearances to be upkept! -- before she grabs the nearest bag of tubers at hand and high-tails it out towards the entrance to the storeroom.
WHERE: Kitchen, HRW
WHAT: There're some questions for the rider, to which a convict is opposed and another one joins in. Also, that Crom girl continues to show no respect at all for a convict's reputation.
Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr
Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.
The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
It's on the later side for meals, but that doesn't mean there isn't a fair amount of activity in the kitchen still. There's the late eaters, the recent dishes to be done, and the next day to be prepared for. There's also an exasperated greenrider strolling in with a glance over his shoulder that suggests he thought coming in here mighty somehow have thrown off his unwanted company. But, oblivious to this behavior, Saliqa pushes into the semi-busy kitchen right after him, her hands pulling her skirts up so she can attempt to keep up with a much longer-legged pace. "--simple enough question, if you'd just hold on for a moment, it won't take me but a second to ask you and I'd really appreciate any wisdom you have to give on the matter. Understand this isn't just for me, this is for every candidate here and others in future generations--"
"C'mon, how many more of these I gotta do?" Taikrin appears to have roped herself into a late-night chore duty: she's standing at a sink, scrub-brush in her left hand, attacking one of giant pots used for preparing tonight's supper. "Ain't like I meant t'break it, y'know." There's a kitchen worker at the next sink over apparently overseeing her progress; to judge from the roll of the eyes, Taikrin's been complaining about this for a while. Likewise, there's the mandatory guard present-- but he seems to be more interested in chatting up one of the young cooks than actually keeping an eye on his charge. Saliqa's entrance is noted, though Taikrin doesn't seem much pleased to judge from the way she grimaces and hunches further over her dirty pot.
"Faranth's shiny ass, shove a biscuit in her mouth or something," Z'yi comments from his seat on a high barstool. He's not too far away from Taikrin at all, chopping tubers as if he's kitchen staff and not a bluerider as the cords on his shoulder indicate. The knifework he performs yields a rather precise dice, pieces uniformly square. The big bluerider seems content to go back to his work after his comment to the greenrider, though he keeps a laconic eye on the going-abouts around him.
Saliqa was already starting to look a tad irritated around the edges and she shoots this inquisitive look for blame around to find the originator of that comment. The greenrider seems to believe this is his well-orchestrated escape route, because he takes the girl by the shoulders and maneuvers her right into the empty seat next to Z'yi that she was glaring towards anyway. "Oh, look," he says brightly, "Here's Z'yi. He's /full/ of wisdom like that one just now. Good luck with the future!" And, dipping in beside Taikrin to snag a just-cleaned dish, he goes about stealing some food and making a clean break. Plopped into the seat, Saliqa drops her palms onto the table determinedly, but not enough force to shake the table and disturb any work. "If I could have a moment of your time." Winningly; it's not like he's going anywhere if he wants to finish his slicing.
Taikrin can't help it: despite her apparent desire to hide from Saliqa, she keeps glancing over to follow the other girl's exploits around the kitchen. At Z'yi's comment, her glower shifts into a downright scowl. "Oi, you leave 'er alone." The words spoken terribly loudly, but there is a hint of 'or else' in her tone. The kitchen work her beside her is terribly unamused: "Back to work, you lazy ingrate! Finish that sharding pot already!" Taikrin shifts her scowl back to the older, then, but rather than protest she merely resumes scrubbing. Vigerously. Very, /very/ vigerously. Witness the splashing!
"Sure. Here, have a knife, and some tubers. Cook'll kill you if they aren't even, though, so focus on making them all about the same size, you know?" Z'yi, cheerfully enough, shoving a sharp implement of DEATH - or just a regular knife, whatever you pick - to Saliqa, with her very own basket of the root vegetables. He keeps chopping, then comments, "You do good enough on the first three, then you can ask your question." Someone caught him on his Man PMS, evidently; he's typically not this deliberately perverse. To Taikrin, "Ha! You put up with all the crap I've put up with in the last few turns, /then/ you can tell me exactly where to shove it, girl," mildly stated in his deep bass: amused rather than annoyed. It's accompanied by an arching of eyebrows at the overseer, as if he's not quite sure that the dude's serious.
As if there weren't enough tubers in the kitchen already, here comes Xeoshen with another basket full. "Shards, we get enough tubers?" He says. moving to set the basket down near the rest of them. He nods to the overseer though, and to the others already here. "'ello." He greets them. he'd offer to cut or peel tubers, but who in the right mind would give a knife of doom to a con, right?
There's only a short second where Saliqa blinks at the knife like she doesn't know what it is. Then she brings a hand around to claim the handle of that implement. Though she handles the blade quite daintily at first, she brings it down with a good deal of authority on the first cut. The second one... well, it's interrupted by her distraction at discovering Taikrin's the one interjecting. Eyes fluttering to the corner with the sinks, she makes a rather indecent sideways cut through the tuber. After recovering, "Is that /really/ necessary?" Could be directed at either of them. Mostly she just keeps her head down, a sulky mouth upon discovering what she's done to the tuber in front of her. She's quiet the next few moments making the mistake look less like one and making better on the following piece.
The kitchen worker remains the unfortunate focus for Taikrin's glare, given the lack of other viable options. She continues the deliberately violent scrubbing for more than a few minutes before, finally, the worker flinches. "Alright, alright! Looks clean enough, I suppose." The glance the older woman shoots at the pot is decidedly nervous, and with a quick look at Z'yi she shoos Taikrin off. "There's a girl... why don't you go help the bluerider, and we'll just call it a night." For her part, Taikrin can't help but look a little smug as she drops the scrubbrush back into the sink with a clatter. "Whatever y'want, ma'am." Forget smug, the addition of the title makes her downright antagonistic.
And Z'yi's dastardly plot to get Saliqa to shut up actually /works/. Holy crap, he should do things that Isforaith suggests more often! Well, other than Searching convicts. "Kid," he greets Xeoshen, speaking of convicts Searched by his stupid lifemate. And then, hey, check it out, they're giving him more people! Awesome. "I'm pretty sure Tiri would kill me if I gave you knives," he directs to both convicts, "So--" A pause, "Go fetch me up a couple of those big soup pots, and start tearing some of that parsley into pieces into them, can you?" He nods with his chin towards a pile of freshly-washed leafy Reachian herb. "And some salt. I think we need salt." Squint. For the record? Isz doesn't do very well with this whole being-a-cook thing.
Hey, what's wrong with searching convicts? They're been good, other then nearly getting crushed into a tunnel collapse. Xeeoshen nods to Z'yi. "Ya think? I think alotta people would kill ya if ya did that." He remarks to the rider, and then eyes the pots, and goes to retrieve them, setting them down. "I think I can manage it, aye." He says.
Apparently when she feels challenged, Saliqa gets right on it. She ignores everything else around her for the pace of three meticulously cut tubers then sweeps these off to the side with the broad of her hand. The rest of the room comes into focus right about then, letting her glance over at both Xeoshen and Taikrin with a bright but distracted smile. Then she reaches next to her and draws out a stack of hides that she drops quite significantly on the table where she'd been cutting. "Alright, three tubers," she announces like she's taking records, "That means three questions." And she presses a finger against the first sign of marks on the hide to read off, "First: Does the queen dragon tell the other dragons who to Search?"
"What, not even if I don't use my stabbin' hand?" The fingers on Taikrin's casted right arm are wiggled for illustration. Her relatively light tone, coupled with the lopsidedly smug smile that's flashed at Saliqa indicate that she's kidding. Probably. She turns go to after Xeo, commenting, "Yeah, fine, Xeo can load me-- hey!" She's only halfway to the pots when she catches Saliqa's question; eyebrows crawl up towards her browline as she whirls around. "Y'can't ask /him/ that!"
"They could try," Isz comments to Xeo, unruffled. "I think Tiriana is the only one capable of finishing me off, though." The sentence comes out glum, as if he's not exactly excited about admitting that a woman could kill him. "But it'd be hot. Wouldn't it? Tiri in a bloodbath." That would be to Xeoshen, as he's not about to question the girls with such. He takes another swig from a flask nearby, perhaps giving light to his general good mood. Then he squints over towards Saliqa. "Three tubers is /one/ question," he corrects. "Hell no," is her first answer, and he gestures towards the tubers, making a chop-chop motion with a hand. "You chop, I'll talk. Searchdragons are uniquely suited to identifying some type of potential. My Isforaith, it's like a smell to him - others say it's an itch, some say it's a brightness. Hell if I know, but golds don't have the sense - and not too many bronzes have it, either, so that leaves all the little ones finding the next crop of dragonriders, for the most part." Holy crap, that was a speech. He wets his whistle again, and gets back to his own chopping, eyeballing Taikrin from time to time. "Why can't she ask me that?" Belatedly, of course, now that he's, y'know, answered.
Xeoshen snickers. "It would be hot, aye, would be interesting to see. Tiri seems like a strong woman, bet she's one shell of a fighter." He remarks, and raises an eyebrow at Saliqa's question. "If the queen had her say, non of us Con's probably woulda been searched." He tells the girl, and then looks at Taikrin. "What were you going to say?" He asks her, and then looks to Z'yi at his lecture. "Why don't the gold, and bronzes have the sense for it?" He asks, what? Z'yi didn't say he couldn't ask a question.
This nice proper lady over here is going to pretend that other conversation isn't going on; she looks surprised more than settled at Taikrin's smugness. "I can't write it down if I'm chopping," Saliqa replies matter-of-factly, even as she pulls a quill from we're-not-sure-where and begins scribbling in a delicate but unpracticed hand. Her concentration is fully on this, the forming of the letters clearly needing all of her effort, so she doesn't glance up again until he's stopped talking. Even then, she has to finish off a few words on her own. "He's perfect to ask," she insists into the air somewhere in Taikrin's direction, "His, uh, Isfor...a..-- aith. Isforaith!-- has been directly involved." With only a passing glance for the work he's suggested she get back to, she declares, "Fine. Two questions. Next: Has your dragon ever expressed the desire to eat a person?"
"'Cause-- because she /can't/!" is Taikrin's strangled reply to Z'yi. "/Saliqa/! What're ya--- augh!" She throws her good hand up into the air in exasperation, then pivots once more to stalk off towards the previously-indicated pots. There's sound of disguntled muttering that accompanies her there and back again, but by the time she's returned near enough to be audible -- and with two pots in tow -- it breaks off. "Can't believe yer askin' him this." The look Taikrin gives Saliqa is, well, a bit scandalized. "An' you!" To Xeoshen, this time. "Quit eggin' her on!"
Severely, "That's Weyrwoman Tiriana to you, kid," Z'yi to Xeoshen, obviously. But he does answer the guy's question nonetheless with another, "Hell if I know. Why don't girls have di--" A glance over to Saliqa, and he rephrases. "Why are some breeds of runners only solid colors? They're just made like that," with a shrug of big shoulders. "I-S-F-O-R-A-I-T-H," he spells to Saliqa, meanwhile, and, "Get to chopping if you want an answer." His main focus turns, however, to Taikrin, and he considers the girl with a thoughtful air. "And what's your deal, kiddo? I'm not about to kill a person for asking me a question." He may /look/ like someone who eats children for breakfast, but he's not that bad, really. "Or are you scared of the answer?" A crooked grin, terribly lopsided, at the idea of this - and oh hey, look, Z'yi's thirsty again. At this rate he's going to run out and be one giant sad panda.
Xeoshen snickers as he listens, and grabs a stool as a seat, or, this was turning informative indeed. "Hey, his dragon /searched/ me, so I aint complaining." He remarks, and looks to Taikrin. "What? I can't add my own comments ta this?" He asks her, and then shrugs, looking back to the blue rider, and fellow candidate. "If he's putting up with it, I think she oughtta be allowed to ask." He shrugs, and sits down on his perch. "So whatta we doin'? Pullin' thesr things apart?" He asks, and picks up some of said vegetables.
I-S-F... Saliqa takes the spelling of the dragon's name quite seriously, after the loud throat-clearing that turned out to be unneeded when Z'yi changed his phrase. As she sets the quill on top of the hide and slides both of these to the side, her gaze lifts to Taikrin. "Plenty of people are coming to the Weyr with these ideas. Don't see any harm in making sure there's less, umm... you know, when people don't understand each other. Or make assumptions. Make assumptions, that's good." Nodding, she plucks up the next two tubers, slicing them side-by-side to make the cuts on each exactly the same. She isn't as fast as some, but she's done this before. She's even able to, at one point, glance up while not pausing her work to make sure Z'yi is really going to answer.
"I ain't scared!" Taikrin is quick enough to defend herself from that accusation, even as she punctuates her remark with the clatter of pots being dropped onto the counter. "She's just-- she ain't s'pposed to--" The convict breaks off, though her jaw continues working for a few seconds afterwords as though chewing on her words. Finally, sullenly towards Saliqa, "Fine. I ain't gonna stop ya. Can't believe yer askin' him, though." She collects an herb sprig with what some might describe as petulance (before Taikrin stabbed them to DEATH, anyways), and proceeds to maul it into a crushed green mass with her one good hand. "Yer as bad as her, Xeo."
"Yeah, just-- in little bunches. Like this," Z'yi reaches across, plucks a piece into inch-long pieces, drops them into the pan. "Ungrounded preconceived notions, I believe you're looking for," he offers so helpfully to Saliqa. "If, of course," and he levies his knife at her, point-first, "-they /are/ ungrounded." With his own return to chopping, he states, "While Isforaith has discussed many a time that there are several people he would like to see dead, he's never made any action towards a human being when hungry. Dragons aren't maneaters. Now," and that blade is levied at the three of them, this time, "That doesn't mean a /baby/ dragon can't rip you throat to gut and leave you for dead on the Sands, but that's because they're confused out there, just babies. So all of you would do well to mind them if they start running." A pause. "And if they let you touch the eggs, you'd do well to mind your manners around Iovniath, too. Not sure how the mommas do, with the bunch of you clumsy lots around her babies," with a rather pointed look at Taikrin and her arm cast.
Xeoshen nods to Saliqa. "Aye, I agree with her, I didna grow up here, or live here, so this is good info ta hear." He says, and shrugs to Taikrin. "Hey, if I'm gonna be spendin' time here, I'd rather learn what I need ta know." He says to the female con, and nods to Z'yi, tearing the sprig as shown, and then tossing it into the pot, before he moves onto another one. He the4n blinks at Z'yi. "We get to /touch/ the eggs?" He asked, confused, and awed, seriously, they let them out there with them? "Right, so when ever they decide ta hatch, don't take yer eyes off them, and be ready ta run, got it."
Saliqa stiffens and leans hard into the back of her chair whenever there's a knife wielded unnecessarily at her, but she manages rather well to stretch her arms out and keep cutting even so. After a few more slices, she sets the knife gently down and tugs her hide closer in order to write down an approximation of what the rider's said. A few shifty glances, a bit of uncomfortable wriggling. Her lips press unhappily as she admits, "I don't know how to spell 'preconceived'." Again, the blade is wielded. This time, a definite pallor falls over her face, jaw slackening a bit and eyes widening if only to hold back a more extreme reaction. /Leave you for dead/. Questions and tubers are both abandoned in favor of a need to suddenly fix her hair. Still, she angles up at Xeoshen as he asks his own question with a certain amount of curiosity left.
Taikrin continues haphazardly smushing her greenery in a way that would make any chef cry-- gifted in the kitchen, she is not. "Told ya they would," is interjected after the Hatchling!Violence description, along with a dirty look shot towards Saliqa. "My ma said she saw it. Hatchling was hungry, so he got a piece." The pointed look is met by a pair of confusedly-raised eyebrows. "Touchin' em?" is asked, almost in time with Xeoshen. A glance is shot towards him, sidelong, but lacking some of her earlier venom. "For real?"
"P-R-E-C-O-N-C-E-I-V-E-D." Z'yi, the walking talking dictionary. He was delegated to scribing duties for months on end, so it should probably be no surprise that he /does/ have a firm grasp on the language. Distracted, belated, "Yeah, you get to touch the eggs... well, most candidates do," he amends. "I'm not sure if Tiriana is going to let the lot of you out there," with a hint of apology towards Xeo and Taik. Apparently unconcerned about his own 'leave for dead' comment, the bluerider goes to take a drink... and finds his flask dry. "Oh, this isn't happening," he announces. "Hey, finish up doing these tubers, will you?" he hollers to the nearest cook, offers a flagged hand to the trio, and shambles off to go get his buzz on moreso than it already is. "Hatchlings don't maim and then /eat/ their victims," he can be heard talking to himself, a mumble, while shaking his head; "Kids and their damned preconceived notions, these days..." and then, he's out of sight!
"Right, I fergot, us convicts are too dangerous ta touch them most likely." Xeoshen says, and rolls his eyes when the rider give him and Tai apologetic looks. "Aint like I'd purposefully hurt one, I like bein' in one piece." He says. "I doubt they'll happen anyway, wouldn't the Headwoman and them of mentioned them by now if they were goin' ta have them?" He asks the two ladies. Then again, maybe they just don't want the /convicts/ to know. He keeps ripping and tossing of the leeks. "This is better then the chore I had earlier."
Saliqa's so preoccupied by whatever images are flashing behind those worried eyes that she barely registers Z'yi leaving, much less his generous spelling for her. Coming out of the spell, she bats at her hair a second time and then presses quill to hide to pretend to be busy; it'd work a lot better if she had /something/ to writing. Composure returns after Xeoshen's talked a bit and she scoots her chair forward, letting her sit up straighter. The tubers are attended to because, well, she's already started. Only fair. "He didn't say /eat/," she shoots back to Taikrin, lips full and pouty, "And I don't see why you wouldn't want to know these things. What was all that fuss about?" Shaking her head, she lands on the male convict instead. "I'm sure they'll mention it when it's time to mention it."
The second Z'yi's back is turned, Taikrin discards all pretense of tearing herbs for soup with a disgusted snort. "Yeah, a'course he says that." The green-stained hand is wiped carelessly against the side of her pants as she turns attention towards Xeoshen. "Well /I/ only got four sevendays left, today. Reckon they're gonna lay off the guard crap then? Bet they won't." At Saliqa's comment, Taikrin whirls on her, suddenly full of remembered annoyance. "Why would y'go an' /ask/ him that?! Y'can't get a straight answer out of a /rider/, they're all /in/ on it, like. Now y'just let 'im know that yer on t'him!" Taikrin, lover of conspiracy theories. "Shards! I /told/ y'that!" A pause, during which she eyes Saliqa sideways, then: "An' don't give me that look."
Xeoshen keeps ripping, and tossing as he listens for the moment, and then shrugs to Saliqa. "Doesn't matter, I doubt me, Tai, and any of the other convicts will be allowed ta touch them eggs." He says, then again, he has been proven wrong once before, but this he was almost sure of. As the girls seem to argue, he drops off into silence, and just listens.
"You didn't say that at all!" Saliqa insists, lowering her voice to complement their subject, "And I never assume anyone's lying without them showing themselves to be unreasonable. Or if they're annoying. Or if I think they're trying to have me on." She thinks for a moment then, deciding that's the last one, inches her seat forward again -- this time closer to Xeoshen, and putting distance between her and the other girl. Having brought the knife with her, she resumes her work diligently. "They will if they mean what they say about treating all of you the same. Candidates all being equal, no matter what." Oh, and between words? She's definitely giving Taikrin /that look/.
Taikrin may not have the girly skills to pull off a matching /that look/ in return, but she can sure manage a sullen glower with the best of them. "I did! I know I did! Shards. Yer so bloody trusting! I don't know how y'ain't been robbed blind yet." A quick, sharp sigh is let out as she shifts her weight, folding her good arm across her chest in a stereotypically defensive gesture. "Y'know they don't. Call us equal. An' why're we supposed t'touch eggs anyways?" The question is directed at Xeoshen, because Taikrin is /quite firmly/ not looking at Saliqa. If she can't see that look, then it must not exist!
Xeoshen is the protector, oh boy, he didn't sign up for this. Oh well, he's not moving for now. "I dunno, they aint showed us very equal yet, I mean sure they took us out of the project, but look at the /chores/ we're gettin' now, we're gettin' all the ones nobody else wants ta do." He says, and shrugs to Taikrin. "I dunno, maybe so they don't leave us fer dead?" He suggests, which is /exactly/ why they wouldn't tell the cons, right? Who cares if the con's get mauled, and left for dead.
"They have said that, though," Saliqa informs Xeoshen comfortingly, because if Taikrin wants to play the ignoring game then she can do it, too. "I spoke with sir Weyrleader and that's what he said about it: candidates are candidates. I can't say as though it's bad, though finishing out your sentences is far more appropriate." She's become comfortable, stating such opinions even when both of her companions are the convicts themselves-- and she's holding a knife between them. "I guess I'll ask the egg question next." Humming thoughtfully, she sneaks a look at the girl-totally-who-isn't-there. Then, straightening a bit pompously, she even leans in to Xeoshen, putting a hand over his to get his private attention. "She only says it like that because she doesn't /want/ to see me robbed blind."
"Oh, the new ones ain't so bad," says the girl who's been spared the worst of it due to her broken arm. "Y'can get away with all kinds'a easy doin' pots." As Taikrin very aptly demonstrated earlier this very night. "Y'think it makes a difference?" She's all mistrustful skepticism with regards to the whole egg business. "I can't--" As Saliqa moves closer to Xeoshen, Taikrin can't help but notice... and mark that notice with an expression that varies somewhere between annoyance and jealousy. "I /can't/--", she continues louder, as if that would mask her discomfort at the very *idea* of Saliqa's suggestion, "--figure out what difference it'd make. Stuff in an egg ain't got no idea what's goin' on." Ignore, ignore, ignore. That's Taikrin's policy.
Girls are so weird, cute, but so weird, seriously, do they ever not fight over stuff? Then again, same could be said for some guys. "Right, well, don't mind me believin' it, till I see it, it's the Weyrwoman, and her queen that gotta let us on them sands, not the Weyrleader." The Weyrleader that Xeoshen's heard many here don't like either. He pauses at the hand on his, and turns to eye Saliqa. "Mmm, I suppose that would be true, though she'd never admit it." He says privately to the girl.
There's girls who do this better than Saliqa, though; she isn't batting her eyes or sticking out her chest (what chest?) to get the extra attention. She only gifts Xeoshen with a nice, shy in its genuineness, smile for his disclosure. "Well, I like knowing it anyway." Low, pointedly as if no one else in the room exists. Then her fingers slide to her own space and she's slicing and dicing once more, indulging in a bit more of a conversational tone. "My ma says that babies in their pregnant mothers can feel things. Emotions and the like. Hear music. Anyway, don't see as it'd be a right choice by the Weyrwoman, not that it's my place to say, but both of you have been nice and good to me and not like villains at all. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially when they seem to want to do right by it."
Taikrin, apparently, is feeling the sudden urge to do things with her hands... and that thing involves the horrible, throttling murder of more herbs. Ostensibly it's for the pot, because the mutilated mess does eventually end up in there, but the nearly audible gritting of teeth can't possibly be just for the benefit of the greenery. "Weyrleader seems okay," Taikrin allows through clenched teeth. At least she's making an effort to produce a smile, though it's looking a bit stiff around the edges. "Weyrwoman too, I guess. Said she wanted t'fight with me." And anyone who wants to go a round with Taikrin voluntarily is okay in her books. She unwinds a bit, slowly, when Saliqa moves back... but only so far. "Anyone ever asked th'babe what they know in there? 'Cause I'm thinkin' y'can't 'cause they don't /know/ nothing." Now she's being argumentative just for the sake of the thing: there's no actual heat in her voice, and her heart doesn't really seem to be in it.
Xeoshen rips and tosses some more, the poor abused vegies, such a short life, aand a terrible way to go. He nods to Saliqa. "Aye, it is good ta know." He agrees, and then speaks up as he addresses both. "Aye, but this is the eggs,." There's a difference, really there is, he'll just have to think of one. "A seconbd chance, yeah, that's what Z'yi said when he searched me, a way out." He remarks, and then looks to Tai. "I aint met her yet, I'll have ta try and meet up with her." He says, and then looks up as a kitchen worker slips up to him, and saying something about helping bring things in. He groans, and tosses his last leek into the pot. "Guess I'm back ta bein' a mule." He says, and slips off the stool. "See ya guys later." He says, and heads out of the kitchen.
The mighty act of ignoring something that's unpleasant is one Saliqa has mastered and she executes this to innocently bypass whatever's going on in Taikrin's corner for some time. Until such that the conversation clearly includes all of them again. Mouth moving in an echo of that sulky sourness of before, she imparts smartly, "Oh no, no, nobody's asked the babes. That'd be letting them know you're onto them." Huff huff, indignant shuffle. This mood snaps when she has to twist to see Xeoshen preparing to go, "Guess you are, goodbye for now, then!" She raises a hand to wave then brings it down to set her nicely cut tubers aside. A bit of a head-shake, she mutters distractedly, "I really must remember sometime when he's not running off that he owes letting me handle his clothes."
Taikrin's mouth moves in nearly-silent, mocking mimicry of Saliqa's 'letting them know you're onto them', though she's wary enough that it's only executed when Xeoshen turns to go and the girl's attention might be diverted. Louder, then, she calls after the other con with something that /might/ be vaguely threatening, "I'll catch ya later, Xeo." And then she's alone with Saliqa and a knife and is quite obviously uncomfortable with this fact. It doesn't stop her from blurting out, though, "What d'you /mean/ handle his clothes?! Thought y'didn't go in fer that sorta thing, /especially/ with us criminal-sorts." It's entirely possible that Taikrin has taken a not-so-innocent interpretation to that phrase.
Either it takes Saliqa a while to realize what's being insinuated, or she'd like it to look like it takes a while. Probably more the latter, based on the way her eyes narrow too thin, too fast. They widen again a moment later when she's affecting this innocence, hands dropping to smooth over her skirts for the first time in the evening. "That sorta-- oh! Shh, shh. Don't you be getting at that, not again. I'm fairly certain we've mentioned before that I'm helping Xeoshen /dress nicer/. Which, as it so happens, has to do with putting clothes /on/." Much as she was leaning for the male before, she doesn't hover towards Taikrin this time so that her voice lowering in volume becomes harder to hear; she doesn't want to give this topic that kind of acknowledgment.
"/You/ said it... I ain't gettin' at /nothin'/." Taikrin is all protesting innocence, really. Her voice does drop a bit as Saliqa's does, though not nearly to the same magnitude. "I don't care /what/ y'do with that boy, anyways," is the declaration, though the scowl that still graces her features might give lie to it. "Puttin' clothes on, off, whatever." A pause, then her voice becomes a bit more honest... and a bit more jealous. "Pretty boy like him, though, he don't need pretty clothes t'give him big ideas of himself."
"I didn't say what /you/ said," Saliqa shoots right back, hands tugging up fistfuls of fabric with every increment her eyebrows furrow. She has nothing to say to that middle section; though, that hot flush coloring the rich tone of her skin might say enough on its own. Eyes planted somewhere directly in front of Taikrin, she sniffs insulted-like. "Everyone needs pretty clothes once in a while. Nothing wrong feeling good about yourself, nor making a good impression on others. I think it'd be brilliant if he got big ideas-- get out of this stuck-in-the-mud convict attitude." Tossing her head to the side, she picks herself out of the chair and pushes it neatly in. "It's what I do, you know. My livin' stuff. Shame you hate it, since I bet I could give a pretty girl like you some ideas, too."
Taikrin wipes yet more green plant-parts down the side of her pants as she too pushes away from the table. "He's got a convict attitude 'cause he's a /convict/. Got himself in trouble in th'first place with fancy clothes. Yer just askin' for trouble." The last bit catches her off guard, though, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a flustered stammer. "Pretty wh-- I /ain't/ a pretty girl. I'm a-- a nasty, dirty criminal an'-- an' y'shouldn't even be talkin' to'me." The flush deepens, and a hand scuffs backwards through her hair in a nervous motion. "Y'don't want t'be givin' th'likes of me ideas."
Saliqa tilts her head patronizingly, "Well, at the end of his sentence, he won't be. And then better not to think like one or..." She gestures off to the side, off to some unknown fate. "You don't have to be dirty, of course. Or nasty, really." A business-like up and down examination of the other, "Besides, you said you'd help me. It's only right to return a favor. We can take one of your rest days, see if I can't change your mind after a nice wash and a bit of sparkle for you." Mention of sparklies cracks open a real, kind of delighted smile on her and she stops just short of clapping her hands together. Her stop has to do with the more casual way she has to deliver, "Anyway, you called me pretty once, so we already know your opinion's skewed. Excuse me, right? I've got another rider to seek out."
"Y--yes I do!" Taikrin clings to the shreds of her dignity by taking solace in her lack of grooming. "Part of bein' lowest of th'low. Uh. Servin' a punishment, right?" Her eyebrows draw together, and her speech is purposefully slow and deliberate as she attempts -- rather vainly -- to keep up. "Y'want t'give me a wash. An' a sparkle." It's possible those words aren't in her vocabulary in the way that they're being meant in this instance. "Uh... huh." She is, however, apparently a sucker for a smile, because she capitulates not long afterwards... but with a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. Next rest day. Go find yer rider. I'm just gonna--" A gesture is made at the mess of pots and vegetables. "-- clean this up. See y'later."
Saliqa worms her lips together to attempt to cover all that glee that she's getting her way. She ruins it by what happens next; she quite possibly also puts herself back on the murder list. But nothing can really stop the girl from taking the several strides to where Taikrin is, using that moment where attention is on the mess to swing her arms around and go in for the briefest most loose sense of a hug. She's almost instantly detached, perhaps only in her own excitement, because she's then scurrying happily out of the kitchen with just one smooth gesture to scoop up the hide and quill she left on the table. So much for dignity for some.
If anybody were to /ask/, Taikrin would attribute her quick flinch at Saliqa's hug-assault to be due to healing ribs; her expression is all surprise, though, instead of pain. She really has no time to react otherwise before the other girl is gone, leaving Tai to blink rather stupidly in her wake. A few moments are spent reeling, then she slowly gathers herself. One quick, murderous look is flashed around the room just in case anybody happened to be paying attention -- there are appearances to be upkept! -- before she grabs the nearest bag of tubers at hand and high-tails it out towards the entrance to the storeroom.