mucking up crimson questions [Yva/Lema]

[tovaana]

Lemarovah;

Her interaction with the green weyrling had put thoughts in Lema’s head. Ones that she wanted answers to, but she was finding that her current way of approaching others rather unproductive. She chased people off before she got a satisfying answer or solution. Chasing others off wasn’t off putting, it’d been easy enough to do in Mirran, but the Mavrosi people weren’t running off for the same reasons.

When she'd arrived at Mavros, she’d paid attention to the first candidate lessons, just to see if something was terribly different as far as candidacy and dragonriding went in Mavros… she started to zone out quickly and get distracted when it was all same-same boring stuff. She’d people watch, whisper and distract her neighbor – and she couldn’t help but stare at Yvinka through this current lesson, because it had to do with her thoughts – Red. She was wearing red. There was a certain thrill that went through her, because if she’d been in Mirran, it would have meant that she’d found someone like-minded as her… but here? Everyone seemed to treat her the same, nothing strange about her, except for her energy maybe.

If she remembered correctly, they had chores together after afternoon meal – she wouldn’t be able to be chased away, even if she wanted to. Time seemed to pass agonizingly through the rest of class and lunch – and then she headed out to her chores faster than she had ever done before, perhaps even ‘on time’ or ‘early’, which was a mistake, because she was put to work before she could spot Yvinka. The moment she saw the girl her she felt like a canine on the edge of her leash, wanting desperately to escape and pounce on her fellow candidate and bombard her with her questions. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, mucking her current stall and forced herself to wait until they were alone enough.

“Hey, nice shirt – look we match!” She motioned to her shirt and her own, which, really the only thing similar between Yvinka’s halter and Lema’s button-up t-shirt, was the color red. “You’re Yvinka, right? I’m Lema.” She rushed through the introduction, wanting to get into their conversation, not much for small talk, scraping the same part of floor over and over again as she distracted herself. “What do you think of the color red?”

Zen

[Zen]

Yvinka

Yva had sat herself next to Darik for the day’s lesson, Ketrick unfortunately on his other side. She would have liked to have been between them, all the easier to flirt with them both at the same time, but they always seemed to sit together so she always had to decide which one to focus on. Darik was a little older, and taller, and had some impressive muscles on those arms of his. Apparently he’d been a farmer before coming to Mavros, which sounded terribly dull to Yva. Ketrick on the other hand had apprenticed as a vintner which Yva found rather more interesting. The boy could delve into details about wines that Yva had never considered before. They’d both been plucked from Benden’s protectorate as part of Mavros’s agreement with the other Weyr. Darik had wanted to see more of the world than the patch of soil his family had toiled on for generations. Ketrick was more elusive with why he’d chosen to come to Mavros and Yva got the sense that he had gotten in trouble somehow and Mavros was his escape, which only made him all the more intriguing. She was determined to weasel it out of him one day.

Darik didn’t seem to mind her being a distraction. When she would lay a hand on his arm he would lean into it a little, flex to show off those muscles, make her giggle with a wink and a grin. He was handsome, but rather simple. She got no interesting stories or conversation from him, honestly, so she did most of the talking. He seemed content enough with that too. Ketrick was more fun to talk to, but also seemed to care more about paying attention to their lessons than she did. So she’d settled for quiet Darik and his muscles today. When the lesson was over they were given their chore assignments and she was unfortunately separated from both boys. Darik was able to spend his chores working with Mavros’s farmers, so they never had chores together. She did sometimes get to work with Ketrick, but not today, as the boy was sent to the kitchens while she got herdbeast duty. She did her best to trade with someone but no one particularly wanted to muck out the beast pens anymore than she did.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to the chore she’d been assigned and trudged off to join the few others who would be assisting in the task. Work boots were provided and she leaned against a wall as she tugged hers on, glad that she needn’t get her own boots filthy at least. She pulled some thick leather work gloves on and grabbed a rake, sighing once more as she started clearing soiled hay from a stall, trying not to breathe through her nose too much to avoid the smell. So she was more than happy when one of the other candidates started up a conversation as they worked near each other, a welcome distraction from the unpleasant work. She wasn’t really expecting a compliment on her shirt to be the first line of conversation but she would take it. Glancing down at her red halter and then to Lema’s red shirt, she wondered why the other girl had decided to start with that. With a light laugh, she agreed, “I guess we do?”

“Yeah,” she agreed again when Lema introduced herself, clarifying her own name, “But call me Yva.” She did vaguely remember the other girl’s name, but they hadn’t really interacted personally yet. The question about the color red had her tilting her head, mildly confused that Lema still seemed to be stuck on their shirts for some reason, but it was a harmless enough question, if a little random. She grinned, perhaps less put off than others might be. She didn’t mind random. “Red’s my favorite, well… one of my favorite colors. I guess I really like blue too. Green isn’t so bad? Yellow is nice and bright but I don’t really look good in it. Red, though… it’s so vibrant and eye catching! It really says… look at me!” She tossed her hands up rather dramatically, rather forgetting her rake in the moment which clattered the floor without her holding onto it. She giggled and bent to pick it back up with a glance around to see if anyone else had noticed, like the beastcrafter that was overseeing their work with that overly serious expression on his face, “Oops. What about you? You must like it if you’re wearing it, right? I had a weaver tell me once that red was one of the easier colors to dye but it also stains everything and tends to fade faster than other colors, turns pink, depending on what they use to make it anyway.”

tovaana

[tovaana]

Lemarovah;

She only grinned and shrugged shoulder at the uncertain response to her comment about their shirts. Obviously it wasn’t a big deal to the fellow candidate, and so Lema was getting more and more confident in her theory.

“Okay, Yva!” She amended her use of name to the nickname requested, as she had no other reason to do otherwise. Lemarovah herself knew what it was like to have others call her by her full name – it seemed to formal and exactly what those with ‘power’ would do. Lema didn’t care about power, she cared about truth- or the different truths, the different ideas around Pern, and obviously there were many for her to discover yet.

“Fascinating…” She murmured as Yva spoke, not quite as interested in the other colors, but she ended on the color red, and that was that. “I knew it!” She hissed and then giggled as the girl dropped the rake in her enthusiasm. She could respect her enthusiasm, especially if it was about the color red. At the same time, Lema was sort of disappointed that she’d guessed about the color, because even though Yva liked the color, it meant that she didn’t wear it for the same bold reasons that Lema did… and worse, her wearing red and black would never have the same effect in Mavros. It was baffling, disappointing, interesting, and curious – all at the same time.

“Well, red dye is hard to come by in Mirran. They don’t really wear the color there a lot, in Mirran they believe the color is cursed because of the red star…but uh, they don’t believe that here in Mavros, do they? Do they think anything of colors? Or have any traditions I should know about? Deep dark secrets? Skeletons in closets?” She sort of rambled on, but got more intense and quieter as she went on, leaning into the wall conspiratorially. The more she knew, the better. And… there was more to it than just knowing, it was discovery that her small world in Mirran… that it was… well, small. It made her question everything even more than she had before.

Zen