Shy and Gentle Touch

Characters Sabrael Ilyse Ivaylo
Synopsis Sabrael is shy but Ilyse and Ivaylo manage to get some conversation.
Out-of-Character Date December 12, 2014

Candidate Quarters
While the barracks are little different from the dorms in layout and appearance, a little time makes it apparent that they house younger people, for the most part. There's also more order; the cots are lined with precision - almost as if laid out on a sleeping chart. The room is kept tidy, and the presses are closed and not leaking belongings. Though not segregated by sex, one side of the room appears to belong primarily to the female candidates, the other to the males, though there does happen to be some over-lapping. In general, the barracks are open, perhaps as an introduction to the more public, collective life of a rider. To one side of the door, a large chore board lists the duties of each Candidate for the day.


<start of log lost in a client accidental closing>

Pulling in her legs Sabrael hugs them and puts her head on her needs, tucked now into a tiny Sabrael ball. "I've only ever met the one, um, I feel so bad saying this, but it was such a rush…" her eyes cast downwards, "I don't remember her name. She seemed really nice though. Um… if you don't mind me asking… what… what is it like to be a candidate? They said something about chores…"

"Chores, bonding with your fellow candidates, nervousness. Feeling the eggs, feeling the beings inside the eggs just pop into your head… and then the sadness and joy of the hatching. The pride of seeing your friends find their lifemates and then not finding yours." She admits, looking a little forelorn

"Well, chores I've done, at home." Sabrael isn't worried about that part. Reaching upwards she tucks a curl of hair over an ear, through the other side of her face remains covered. "I.. well, there weren't many people at home. Sometimes the traders would come through so I.. um, I don't really know how people… make friends."

"You do what we are doing. Talk, learn about each other. Learn what the other person likes." Ilyse says, offering from guidance to the young woman. "What do you like to do, Sabrael?" She asks, leaning back a bit in her cot as she speaks.

"That's it?" Falling quiet for a moment Sabrael ponders that simple advice, her arms tugging more tightly on her legs as she pushes against the shy. It seems so simple, and yet, so hard! "I like… well, fishing. Um, and a bit of cooking. What do you like?"

"Fishing, huh? That's neat." Ilyse says as she folds her legs under her. "What do you like fishing for?" She asks before she ohs. "I can't cook worth a lick." She admits before ohing. "I like swimming. I just learned not too logn ago, it's fun." She says "And I like to draw, but I don't have the marks for it."

"Oh! Swimming is fun." A real smile splits itself on Sabrael's face and a single fingerwidth of muscle relaxes. "I like to paint a bit! There was a really nice clay by the river, a really pretty red. Um, do, you want to see?" An attempt to reach out!

"I'd love to!" Ilyse says as she nods to Sabrael, watching her as she speaks. "I always enjoy seeing art and such." The young woman says, sitting back a bit on her cot as she motions her over. "If you want to sit, plenty of room."

Releasing her hold Sabrael slips off her bed and ghosts around it, her feet making barely any noise on the stone floor. Crouched on the floor she's small enough to be mistaken for one so much younger. The chest at the edge of the bed isn't full, but it holds a respectable amount for a young woman on her first foray from home. From within she pulls a small handsized picture, and a pot the size of her hand. Clutching both to her chest she rises again, and bites her lip at the invitation with hesitation. Slipping closer she settles, though there is still a respectable amount of space between the two of them. The pot stays in her lap, but the picture is shyly held out towards the other woman. "It's not you know, harper, but it looks a little like home." Blue and red make up the curves of Igen's river, the craftsmanship crude, but what it is unmistakable.

"Ooohs!" Ilyse says before she motions at the painting. "This is a river, Igen isn't it?" She asks, seated on her cot with Sabrael on the far end. "It's really well done. Did you use just your fingers?" She asks.

Sabrael tucks one leg under her, allowing the other to hang off the side, her legs not quite long enough to let more than her toe touch the ground. "I did! The brush marks were done by this soft plant that grows on the edge of the river." She warms to the topic, relaxing just a little. Small talk. Can Be Done. "Do.. you want to try?" Pot of paint, "The other side is blank."

"Oh, I'm terrible at it. I wouldn't want to mess up your pretty painting." She says, holding it out towards her. "Maybe we can find some other canvas or paper somewhere and then pa…" She pauses. "What if we paint the walls?" She asks.

Sabrael reaches out to take that painting to gather it up against her chest in a tiny hug. As Ilyse goes on her eyes get very wide and her gaze shoots from the fiery haired woman, to the wall, to the paint in her chest. "Oh, I… don't know about that. Wouldn't they be upset?"

"Not if we make it pretty." Ilyse says. "Maybe we can make it small at first, and really colorful and see what happens? The worst they'll do is make us scrub it off probably." She admits. "But, I bet they'd like it!"

"Um, well, if you don't think they'd mind…" Sabrael isn't sure though, her shyness drawing her closer in as her gaze darts around the room as if looking for someone to naysay. "Um, what if we…" She casts about for something other than the wall and her eyes land on that chest at the edge of her bed, her own personal property. Perking up a bit she points, "Why don't we start on my chest? Then… maybe, if someone else likes it… we could see if everyone else wants to do a wall with us?" They can't have everyone in trouble, right?

"That's a good idea." Ilyse says as she looks over at the chest. "What do you see on your chest?" She asks before she hms and taps her lips with her finger. "I could see a picture of the lake with the sandy walls nearby."

"I only have red… not nearly as pretty a red as your hair though." The compliment slips out and Sabrael's eyes hit the floor, hair slipping to cover her face. To cover up her sudden slip she stands, setting her picture on her cot, and cupping the small pot of paint in her hands.

Ilyse blushes a bit as she hears Sabrael's compliment but she doesn't remark at it before she ohs. "I wonder if they have some clams or oysters or such. Heard if you crush them up and mix water with it, it'll be blue or purple." She says.

The smith turned candidate returns to the quarters with an easy, but lazy stride as he makes his way towards his cot. Chores are done, and thus, time to work on his craft. As he drifts further in, he notes the others. "Aye, a pretty shade of red." He agrees with a grin before making his way to his trunk. "What are you two up to? Scheming? Or, simply enjoying a moment of rest?"

Ah! Another person! Sabrael's brief forey out of her shy shell is abruptly ended by the new candidate on the scene. She drops her gaze to the floor as her hair completely covers her face. No tiny teenager here, nope.

"Thank you, but be nice." Ilyse says, looking to Sabrael before she takes a step around her to place herself between the new person and Sab. "What do you think, Sab?" She asks, watching her as she motions to the trunk. "Want me to see if I can find some?"

"Excuse me? I don't see how I was being mean?" Ivaylo questions the other candidate with an uplift of his brow. "I merely asked what you two were up to." A shrug. He doesn't pay Sabrael any mind. If she's cowering, she doesn't wish to interact with him. And he certainly doesn't press that issue. He opens his trunk and pulls out his tools as well as a wired piece of work that is far from finished. He settles on his cot and sets to work, leaving the two to their conversation.

"Oh, I, oh dear…." Sabrael wrings her hands about the pot, shifting from foot to foot in obvious distress. She hisses quietly to Ilyse, "I don't want him to think… I just… oh dear oh dear…" Worry is writ all over the shy young woman as she battles her own nervousness and the upset of the young man.

"I didn't say you were being mean." Ilyse says to Ivaylo, giving him a calm and gentle smile. "There are just some people that don't deal with new folks as well as others." She chides, but gently. "It's okay, Sab. It's okay." She turns towards Ivaylo. "She's just terribly shy, that's all. Holder. I'm Ilyse, this is Sabrael." She motions to the smaller younger girl. "Sab, I'm going to go look for those shells, okay?"

"'Be nice' usually implies that one's been cruel, in some manner." Ivaylo retorts, lifting his gaze to give Ilyse a rather cheerful smile. "And, they're certainly free to feel uncomfortable and do what makes them feel at ease. There's just no need to chastise." At her explanation for Sabrael, he gives an idle nod but does not spare the girl a look, yet. "I'm not from a Weyr, myself. It's nice to meet you, Ilyse," and now, he does settle his gaze on Sabrael, "and you, Sabrael. Feel free to pretend I don't exist." A wink is given to the young girl before he returns to his work, twisting the wires and then adding more to the band in the works.

"I, um, wait," That's a cue for Sabrael being abandoned. "um, right. I'll, be… right here." Her sheild moving away though means she has to regather up that scattered courage and stuff it back into place. Taking a deep breath she hugs that pot of paint to herself. "It's… nice to meet you. Um, Ivaylo. What, um, are you doing?" Small talk, right?

Ivaylo tips a nod of farewell to Ilyse as she departs, though it is idle and distracted. As Sabrael works up the courage to speak, he lingers in his silence until she does manage to say something. "Making a bracelet for my sister. She made a bet that I couldn't make anything delicate, and I aim to prove her wrong." He lifts his gaze towards the girl. "And you… Paint?" A nod towards that pot she holds.

A step, two, then three, Sabrael brings herself closer, though she leaves plenty of room between them. At least now she's close enough to look at what he's doing with that bit of wire. "Are you… well, use to be, a smith?" A stab in the dark, before Sabrael hugs that close to her chest. "Oh um, no. Just a little Ilyse seemed interested."

"Aye. Journeyman." Ivaylo grins yet again and the considers his work. It's not the prettiest thing there is, and it's not all that delicate. It looks like it is made by someone who isn't used to treating the metal gently. "They say it's good to have a hobby. And people who support it. Do you enjoy it?"

Sabrael is hardly a judge, and she doesn't even try. "Oh, it's not really, well, a little bit. I like to make the paint better. But if it isn't used…." Her shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug as she shifts forward another half an inch to be taht much closer to the man, like she's a deer about to dart away at the first loud noise.

"So, you're not so much about the painting, but more about the colors of the paints?" Ivaylo considers and then nods once and sets to work on the wired band again. "And, if it isn't used, it dries up. Which… Puts your hard work for nothing. Maybe find someone who can find others who would use your paints?"

"Well, um, the mixing. And finding the right colors." Another half inch forward. Him not looking at her is totally helping the shy. She rubs her thumb along the pot as she peers around her curly hair sheltering her face, "I didn't think about that… I guess… it would be easier here then at home."

"It's probably not easy getting the right colors. Even with smithing, depending on how you're working the metal, you can get the colors to change." And possibly get a result you don't want. He's giving her space and he's perfectly fine not making eye contact while he works. "There are bound to be some Harpers that paint who are looking for colors. Or, people who paint. Just need someone who'd be willing to talk to them for you. Until you felt comfortable talking to them on your own."

"I… never thought about it like that." Sabrael's close enough now that she could touch him if her hands were not wrapped tightly about the pot. Her eyes watch him twist the metal, hair slowly falling out of her face. "I just… there weren't a lot of people." An explanation that comes out very very softly.

Ivaylo is not daft, and definitely knows she's now closer. He is the calm sort, and simply continues as he is to allow her comfort. "It's something to consider." He offers, and then, he does dare to lift his gaze for just a moment. "There weren't a lot of people you didn't know?" He supplies in addition to that. Then, he allows his gaze to drop back down to the wires and tweaks them with the metal tool. "It isn't easy going to a new place. A lot of people here are new, too." Like himself, "just take your time getting comfortable. Don't let anyone make you feel like you've done something wrong."

"It was… a small hold." Her shoulders relax at the continued patience the man gives. His quick gaze does not send her scurrying away, but is met with a tentative and small smile. "I'll try to keep that in mind. Where… um, are you from here?"

"I see, it would be hard not to know everyone, then." Ivaylo agrees. The tentative smile does earn Sabrael a smile of his own before he's considering his work yet again. The metal goes down and he settles it upon his lap. "No. I'm from up north. Where it's colder."

"Where up north?" That death grip Sabrael has on the pot releases just slightly, and her arms are allowed to fall. They still wrap about it, but it's a more normal grip. "I… never have gone far from the ferry. Once in a while to Igen Hold."

Ivaylo considers yet again, before he answers. "The Smith Hall." Simple answers is he. "That's fine. Not everyone needs to travel. If you don't feel like it, there's no need to do it."

"Oh well um, I just… never… thought about it. I'm happy to be here though. Just… new. New is good." The shy wraps around the girl again, and she takes a small step backwards. "It… was nice to meet you Ivaylo." She's very careful in how she says his name, making sure to pronounce it just as he had on introduction. Shying away she slips away.

"New is good." The young man agrees. And then, she's taking a step back. "And you, Sabrael." And once she slips away, Ivaylo sets back to work at a leisurely pace.

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