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The Miner's New Clothes; Tag Mute's Marcius
Topic Started: Apr 12 2013, 12:28 PM (189 Views)
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“These boots pinch.”

Solath didn’t mean to ruin yours, he was only trying to help. Patient as ever, Khorinth defused his rider’s ire with a gentle chide, suffusing it with a wave of sympathetic affection even while the dragon dozed. It was a little too warm for even him, and the best way to wait out this suffocating heat was by napping in the relative cool of their room.

Raisa’s face pinched as well, scrunching up as she twisted to get a better look at the shoes she’d nipped from stores. She dropped her arm soon enough, temper flaring as her experienced eyes picked out the shoddy workmanship of these ugly things on her feet. Too narrow, an uncomfortably tight fit – but she wouldn’t have the opportunity to replace her old ones until the next Gather. Rolling her shoulders uncomfortably, the bulky weyrling growled in aggravation. “Don’t know how they expect a woman to get any fardling work done if her feet feel like enormous meat rolls.”

A rumble of amusement from Khorinth followed, eyes whirling an unapologetically mirthful green as Raisa spun to glower at him, full force. Go eat, Raisa. My stomach aches for you. Having gorged himself on a succulently plump beast the other day, the brown knew the hunger pangs he felt were not his own. Maybe some food will brighten your mood.

“Get out, I’m tryin’ to sleep is what you’re saying.” Muttering, Raisa nevertheless left Khorinth to his late nap and made a trip to the Dining Hall. The trek there only renewed her ire; the leather was molding to her feet in awkwardly uncomfortable ways, and there was a prevalent ache already starting by the time she sat down to a pile of rolls and a cup of klah, scowl back in place. She massaged one heel while gnawing on her first roll with the other hand, stewing in disgruntlement.
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Chetia & Gold Vereth || Weyrling Aderyn of Beryllium Zherth[/align]
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im a gulpin - 3 -
Marcius winced and rolled his stiff shoulders as he collected a plate of food in the currently sparsely-occupied dining hall. The responsibility of keeping a Weyr full of very active people in clothes was no mean feat, along with the occasional Gather-outfit commission, riding gear repair, a dozen miscellaneous little tasks, and finding the time to keep an eye on things back at the Hold's small crafthall- though there at least were a few competent journeymen and apprentices that could hold things down pretty well. And he still needed to find time to brush up on tapestry techniques and dragon designs, given Rayna's request for some new hangings... He was no stranger to skipping meals, often unintentionally, as a result. Sometimes he gave in and brought a tray back to his 'office' so he could continue working, but not often- it was a small space, and the risk of spills or even crumbs on fabric made him cringe mentally. So he'd left Shimmy sleeping in a laundry basket (though he wouldn't be surprised if the little blue decided to make an appearance if he so much as suspected Marc had dared to acquire food without him) and headed out to the dining hall.

Food in hand, the always-social northerner wandered over to an almost unoccupied table. "All right if I sit here...?" he inquired with easy politeness, pausing across and slightly to the side- sensibly, he didn't want to get in the face or invade the space of the grumpy-looking inhabitant. A more delicately bred masterweaver would be hard-pressed to not screech or swoon at the sight of the ragged, painfully ill-fitting clothes on the young woman- easygoing Marc just offered a friendly smile and firmly suppressed a mental twitch, his fingertips itching faintly.

Marcius, Master Weaver

Shar, Roselite Weyrling, copper Simianth

R'kor, Flint Wingthird, blue Castanith
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With her mouth preoccupied, Raisa could only acknowledge Marc with a suspicious glance as the crafter eased his way around the table. As the pale man slid towards a seat angled just far enough away, Raisa chomped through her last bit of meatroll and footed an ambivalent shrug. Her eyes panned back to her meal and that was the end of it; permission granted, for as much as it counted. “You from up north?” Washing down her roll with some watered down klah, Raisa muttered into the emptiness in between mouthfuls – a major improvement from the Raisa of a few months ago, who’d just as like ignore a lunchmate for her own broody thoughts.

“Ouch!” Features pinching into a painful wince, Raisa bent over to tug at the cuff of her boot, where it was biting into her ankle. These boots were trash, absolute rubbish. But even as the woman leaned into massaging the irritated skin, there came the devastating riiipp of a tired stitch finally giving way, and Raisa’s face flooded with red.

Oh.
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im a gulpin - 3 -
Having received about as much in the way of permission as he was likely to get, Marc settled down, doing his utmost to project inoffensiveness as he started in on his food. He ate quickly but cleanly- part of him would always be the skinny Bitran kid in a failing, crime-ridden hold that could never be completely certain of his next meal, but getting crumbs or stains on even his everyday work clothes would just make more work for him. ...plus, his old masters from the Hall would have him staked him out during Threadfall if they heard of such disgrace, so there was that.

He glanced up from his water as the young woman spoke, mildly (though pleasantly) surprised to be addressed. "Yeah, I'm from around-" Marcius began and paused mid-sentence as the sound no weaver likes to hear cut the air between them, and had to act quickly in order to not wince out of sheer reflex. His pale eyes flicked immediately to the source- though the whole outfit was like to fall apart at any moment, it was an easy matter for the weaver to know where the stress would go as she bent to adjust something under the table. "...You weyrfolk are hard on your clothes." he remarked after a moment, gently amused. "Want any help getting sorted out after you're done eating?"
Marcius, Master Weaver

Shar, Roselite Weyrling, copper Simianth

R'kor, Flint Wingthird, blue Castanith
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Face already florid, Raisa growled something that was obscured by the breadth of the table dividing them. She was still bent over, afraid to move an inch in case those stressed seams came entirely undone, in public. She was already drawing strangers’ eyes with her awkward positioning though. So with a bit of mindful leverage, she pulled herself back upright with a gasp – cringing at the inevitable that blessedly never came.

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Raisa caught herself mid-slouch and sat stiffly instead. Her food went untouched for several heartbeats, the woman neglecting to acknowledge Marc’s offer, or so it appeared. “…how much.” She didn’t have much in savings, but the necessity had driven its point home quite clearly in this instance. She didn’t meet the northerner’s eyes, pointedly boring holes into the far wall instead.
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im a gulpin - 3 -
Marc tilted his head a touch quizzically at the woman as he took another sip of water during the awkward pause, still doing his best to project ease and casualness- he didn't want to make the situation any more awkward or embarrassing than it must be already. Interesting that that would be her first concern... "Nothin', honest." he assured her, setting down his cup. "If you want a fancy Gather outfit sewn then yeah, we'll have to negotiate, but stuff to just wear around or work or ride in? That's what I'm here for. The Crafthall figured that weyrfolk shouldn't have to worry or scrimp so they can walk about clothed properly- you've got better things to do, yeah?" Aaaand of course he wasn't wearing his rank knots at the moment. Oh well, nothing for it, hopefully his profession was clear.

"Besiiiides," the weaver drawled, leaning back slightly. "What kinda monster would take advantage of such a situation? And for marks?" he asked in a somewhat scandalized tone (though quietly enough to not go far past Raisa's ears, so as not to broadcast the problem to anyone nearby- there were already more wandering eyes than he'd like), though couldn't completely squash a brief, amused quirk at the sides of his mouth. A Bitran. his mind supplied, unhelpfully. Shush. he replied, silently.
Marcius, Master Weaver

Shar, Roselite Weyrling, copper Simianth

R'kor, Flint Wingthird, blue Castanith
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