Attack of the Hipsters (Open)

[Ruby]

Torino had been at Burimyu a total of two hours, and the Weyr's newest Candidate was booorrreed. He'd assumed the Searchrider was from Selenitas - given that that was the only Weyr in the South - but apparently he was wrong. Instead they brought him here, ruining all plans for some sort of dramatic reunion with his old friends and Kasella, or whatever. Assuming his brother had ever come back from the Hall; despite Torino's tendency to write to all his friends constantly, his mother never exactly got the same treatment.

So far, the secret, undercover Weyr sucked hardcore, though, to the point where he didn't even want to know more about it. There were like... five hundred rules not to be broken, but otherwise everyone seemed left to their own devices for the most part. No Candidatemaster, so no lessons or anything to skip out on, and chores seemed to be of the "pitch in and help when you have time <3" variety. Not even worth worrying about. Not to mention that the population was pathetically small for a Weyr with so many freaking rooms. Not that Torino cared or anything.

Nephele had gotten him settled into a huge, empty living space clearly meant for two at least (ok, maybe that part was a tiny bit cool... but probably not), then left him to his own devices. Fabulous. There was nothing to do, no one to talk to, not even anyone to snub. Siiiiggghhh. Seriously, he couldn't even find the booze, and his personal store was dwindling (rapidly).

After unpacking his ridiculous arsenal of clothing, the Candidate had donned a ratty, ill-fitting tunic over the one he was already wearing, a periwinkle scarf, and his favorite lenseless riding goggles before grabbing his guitar and heading out to find a lonely, tragic place to play. He'd trying playing for Marks in the main hall some time later this week, but of course he had to find it first (something that proved far more difficult than he had ever imagined). For now, an abandoned corner somewhere near the Archives was good enough.

Settling in to the dust that had collected over innumerable Turns, he put the guitar in his lap, hunching over it like he was struck by some great tragedy. The flask in his back pocket had to be re-adjusted, but soon enough he made the perfect picture of rejection, something you might expect to see on the outskirts of a gather in a poor area. Bony limbs stuck out at uncomfortable angles and hair flopped over his brow, except where it was caught on top of his head by the goggles. The song he began was slow and melancholy, with a twang you rarely heard outside of the farms and ranches up north, near Ruatha.

Well I made it down the coast
In seventeen hours
Pickin' me a bouquet
Of dogwood flowers...

[hrsegrl]

Boredom led people, especially people who were prone to it, to wander. Hence she was, not doing as she was told to by Meira only days before. She tried to stay busy but the fact of the matter was, Bevany was about as helpful as a dragon without wings in this place. The cook had sent her away after burning six loaves of bread in a row. She had tried laundry but well, when she got distracted she forgot what step she was on. They wouldn't allow her to try the chores outside. As for cleaning, well, she'd had about enough of that for one day.

So while wandering the grounds without telling someone was in bad taste and looked down upon, she felt her feet begin to whisk her off into some of the less walked places of Burimyu. After about twenty minutes of walking there were no people busy with work wandering around her. Finally she would not be in the way!

Then she heard music. Lovely music and much like she usually did, she gave into her curiosity and followed the sound. She found the doorway to where the young man played and stayed outside to listen. The sound of the song was strange to her but who was she to say anything. Wasn't like she was harper trained. She used to sing to herself at home but had never considered herself great.

“That was lovely. Where did you learn to play?” She stepped into the room, her voice as airy and light as ever. An outstretched finger indicated the guitar. Bevany knew that few people around here would consider that a skill either. She had never heard that song before. “Are you from the North?” She asked, a hint of excitement tinged her voice. Bevany thought going to the North would be quite interesting.

[Ruby]

Lost my marks playin' poker
So I had to up and leave
But I ain't a-turnin' back
To livin' that old life no more...

Torino trailed out with a final picked chord, outwardly oblivious to his audience. The Candidate had, of course, noticed the blond as soon as she'd approached, but he'd done everything in his power to make it look like that wasn't the case, and he didn't care even if he had noticed. Adjusting his guitar, he finally lifted his eyes, looking at her through the cover of his bangs (left down and limp today, not in their usual fluff) and picking an absentminded chord as he evaluated her. He let the pause after her words draw out, clearly considering whether or not she was worth replying to.

Abruptly he decided he'd screwed with her long enough, and leaned back against the wall, flicking his head so his bangs fell out of his eyes. "Taught myself," he said, sounding bored instead of modest. "If you're looking for good music, you want my brother, the Harper, not my self-taught twanging." Leaning over, he started tuning the guitar, glancing up again - was that the hint of a smile? - when she asked if he was from the North. "Shards no. Those idiots. I was born and raised in Selenitas, Weyr not Hold, thought that's where they were taking me when they Searched me." A slightly awkward pause as he looked her over one more time, finally deciding she was worthy of more attention (as if he wouldn't have come to that conclusion anyway). "Where are you from."

As she answered - assuming she did - Torino looked down to finish tuning the guitar, then gestured to the (dusty) floor in front of him, tacitly asking if she'd like to take a seat. "I assume you have something better to do," he said in a flat tone, "But if you wanna learn a song or two, I bet I'd make more Marks playing for people if I had a girl to sing with me, assuming you don't suck. Sex appeal, etc. We're not gonna sell out, though," he added, suddenly a hint of worry in his voice. "None of those bland Harper-approved numbers. My own stuff. Ours, if you want in." Belatedly, he realized he didn't know her name yet. "Torino," he added, gesturing at his chest. "Candidate extraordinaire."

[hrsegrl]

The silence that filled the room did not make her feel awkward as perhaps it was meant to. There were plenty of people back home who did not feel the need to acknowledge her presence while she was among them. As soon as she walked away she was the butt of many jokes in her peer group. She did say and do unusual things which Bevany understood put the others off a bit. Coming to the Weyr she had found most people did not appreciate the whims on which she often acted upon.

His brother was a Harper and he was self taught. Interesting. She would have thought someone with talent would have been trained but then many people were missed in the struggles of the world. “You must have quite a bit of talent to have picked it up yourself and become so accomplished.” Again, the kind side of her would shine through despite his strange approach to conversation. Bevany took the opportunity to make a new friend as a good thing and she was a little strange herself sometimes.

He had been born at Selenitas and raised there. Interesting that he should end up here. Somehow she thought she was missing a piece of the puzzle but wouldn't press him on the matter. “Well now, thats even better!” Dragonrider's child probably, then he would more than likely impress. Her odds were decidedly smaller. At the question of where she was from, her eyes glazed over a little. Home was beautiful, fields of crops as far as the eye could see, blue skies, with puffy white clouds and a sunrise that was eye popping. There was always the smell of some bubbly pie baking and the feel of warmth coming from the hearth, against the chill of the morning air. She missed home more than she had ever thought she would.

“My father runs a farm in Blossom Hold. Its where I've been my whole life up until a few days ago.” She supposed her life sounded quaint. I wanted to get away so very badly that when Nephele and Nuoth found me, I agreed without much hesitation. Now I wonder if I should ever get back.The wistful thoughts were better kept to herself. She would miss her family but at least they were mostly safe out there. People in the Weyr would be in danger. She herself was in more danger than they were. Bevany moved from where she was standing in the doorway and took a seat in front of the boy.

“Actually...I sort of fail at everything here. They've kicked me out of the kitchens and the laundry room.” She shrugged. Seeing as he was offering something to do with the time on her hands, she nodded. “Really?!” She was a little excited, more so than she had even expected herself to be. Bevany wanted a chance to prove she was not a failure at everything. “Well lets hope I'm not too bad at the singing...” Briefly she wondered if maybe she should try to stick to learning how to become a dragonrider. It seemed the only thing she might have a talent for. Smiling in response to his introduction, “I'm Bevany, also a Candidate.”

[Ruby]

The other girl didn't seemed put off by the awkward silence - had Torino found one of his own? She seemed a little cheery for his usual group of friends, but as much as Torino pretended he was the most selective of social gurus, in reality he pretty much accepted anyone, eventually. Sometimes it took a little time, a little shunning, but his fellow Candidate here was in luck. He was short on friends at Burimyu, so she could get in on the ground floor. Assuming she didn't turn out to be lame, or mainstream, or something.

The compliment, though, helped her case dramatically. Torino picked idly at a string, adjusting the tuning such a minuscule amount even he couldn't tell the difference. "Thanks, I guess," he said, a little quieter than he probably should have, testing the string he'd just tuned against the others before making a face. "It was kind of out of tune, and like, my voice sounds way better usually. I don't know what's wrong. Then again, the harpers always called it unique, not good." Tentatively, he added, "Glad you liked it, though."

He hunched back over the guitar as the girl started explaining her history or whatever, trying his hardest not to care. But she'd been at Blossom recently, and that word alone made Torino look up (and immediately pretend he was just staring into the middle distance on a whim. Nothing special about Blossom). Cocking his head sideways, he asked in a dull voice, "Blossom, hmm. Didn't know Kimilan, did you." His eyes flicked to her face for a split second to catch her reaction before going back to their ambiguous stare. "Or, uh, Dorian, Lajed, Ahenwor, maybe Ooiuyh." he added, trying to cover up his interest in Kimilan specifically with his other close friends at the Weyr. "I was there for a while before they searched me," he added, in case she was curious.

It was her admission of failure that finally convinced Torino he'd found a like soul, however. Leaning back against the wall again, he looked out at her from behind his poof, chin raised a little so he could rest his head back on stone. "I just ditch, no one knows if I fail or not," he counciled, shifting a little so he could remove the (fairly suspicious) flask from his pocket. He took a swig while she introduced herself, then halfheartedly offered the flask to Bevany, gesturing to her with it instead of actually coming out and asking if she wanted any. Whether she accepted it or not, he brightened the slightest amount at her enthusiasm. Plucking another note out on the guitar, he said, "It doesn't really matter how good you are, you just have to want it bad enough. Seriously, I kind of suck, I'm just good at putting emotion into my songs." An interesting phrase, of course, from someone who had yet to show more emotion than the back of a spoon.

[hrsegrl]

The people she had met in Blossom were always the same way towards her as the Harpers seemed to have been towards his voice. Not necessarily cruel but there seemed to be some kind of joke about her whenever she would interact with her peers. “People do have a hard time accepting uniqueness.” Bevany stated as if more to herself than to him but it was audible enough that he would be able to hear. “I tend to like the unusual.” She was not quite normal herself though she wouldn't go so far as to call herself unique. Bevany was not all that proud of being so different that she was ostracized by her peers.

He seemed interested, if mildly so that she was from Blossom. Not that she really needed anyone else to be interested in her home. She did not live so near the main Hold that she would know any of the people whom he spoke of. “No, I've never met them. I rarely went to the Hold proper. Farming families tend to be quite a distance away and we had no runners to carry us there.” The closest farmers would take her father's share of the vegtables and fruits going to the main hold every season in tithe. Then the Hold Tithed their portion required to the Weyr and kept what was left. The rest was sold and the farmers split the money equally between them.

Father never really went unless someone else was sick and they needed the vegetables delivered. Which only had happened a couple of times in her long memory. Sighing she looked at the wall beyond Torino. “Oh, well the main Hold is quite lovely.” She had been once or twice herself but only because of a Gather and a market day. She never spent enough time there to meet any of the locals. She would have loved to meet some dolphineer's but her father never let her out of his sight at Blossom Hold proper.

Ditching sounded a lot like giving up. Though Bevany was not one to point out the flaws in other people. Quite often she let those sorts of things go. What business was it of hers if someone else chose to live that way? If he thought that was good advice perhaps it worked for him. She understood, quite profoundly why he would ditch something. Moving on to the next thing before he could ever have his heart broken or feelings hurt. Perhaps that was how he felt about his relationships with his friends as well. Taking the flask as he offered it, she looked over the flask in thought for a moment before tilting the flask into her mouth. The liquid was bitter, she much preferred her juice but there was nothing particularly gross about it. Handing the flask back she said, “Thank you.”

Raising an eyebrow at his admission of putting emotion into songs she wondered where he would have found such deep emotions. Perhaps people who were the least emotional on the outside had the most emotion on the inside. He was deep, this she knew. It would take someone a long time to get to know him fully. Even Bevany, who thought herself quite easy to understand seemed to puzzle some people. Smiling at the guitar. “Don't suppose it could hurt to try?”

What would they sing? She knew close to no songs that were sung outside of the farm. After all who was interested in the folk-type music generated from people who spent all day in the sun?She would leave it to him to come up with an answer. Hopefully he already knew what he wanted to do. “What shall we sing to start with?”

[Ruby]

People had a hard time accepting uniqueness? "Now that," Torino said, showing a totally uncharacteristic passion and even going so far as to point at Bevany with his guitar pick, "Is one of the great truths of the world. People actively reject the things that are the most interesting and cool, sticking to their stupid, square, white-bread ways. Why." His voice had settled into a familiar cadence of apathy and sneering detachment - clearly he'd had this discussion before. "Everyone that doesn't understand that is an idiot." The exclusive language was telling, even if Torino didn't realize it - Bevany had made it, she was part of his group now. Nothing she could so about it.

Talk turned to Blossom and Torino slumped back, not making quite as much of a show of detachment, now that Bevany had been accepted. Somehow he'd have to beat a little of the perkiness out of her, but that could wait. "Oh, you lived on a cothold," he replied, blank tone turning the question into a statement. "So you like, at the food you grew, and stuff." The pause after that sentence made it clear that he was waiting for an answer, although his tone could have meant anything. "That's tight, eating organic and everything. If everyone went back to farming the world would be a way better place, no one would have time to fight idiotic wars. Way better than the main hold. It was pretty enough, if you like that kind of look, but I prefer something a little more minimalist. Plus there's never anything worthwhile to do, just lots of people talking about nothing all the time."

Accepting the return of the flask, Torino took a big swallow himself, not even hinting that the liquid inside was pretty much unpalatably bitter. Those who knew Torino somewhat often assumed he brewed it himself; in fact, he snitched it from the kitchens, or paid a drudge to make it for him. Bevany's adult handling of the alcohol impressed him, although it would be more fun if they both got drunk. Who knew; it could still happen. Once he was done, he offered it to her again, adding, "Could you hold this. I need both hands to play, and it keeps jabbing me in the side. Have as much as you want."

Forgetting about the flask as soon as he passed it off, Torino struck up a familiar-sounding tune - Bevany might recognize it as a children's teaching ballad, although it had been slowed down and the tune altered slightly. "Just hum or like... sing ahhh if you don't know the words," he assured her. Picking up the melody, it would be clear that he'd changed the words, so she probably wouldn't know them. Too bad for her; the song was slow enough that she could keep up, and maybe sing the 'real' words over the top of his own.

[hrsegrl]

Bevany was not concerned that there were people out there who did not and probably would never approve of people who were different from them. That was how life was. If she were like everyone else, she would certainly never have come to a Weyr that was in hiding. As for Torino she was certain he understood what it was like to be considered a bit strange. The blonde figured she made up for her strange ways with her kind spirit but not everyone felt that was enough. She was still seen as an outcast by her peers. Older people tended to be more understanding. Torino's speech though was comforting in that he seemed to know what she was talking about and where she was coming from. She would get no reproof or teasing from him for being different.

“Oh yes and we trade with the other Farmer's for things we do not grow ourselves. There is nothing like fresh food that you've grown yourself. I suppose people would find other things to fight over. There are some Farming families that still argue over one area of land that both claim to be theres. People find the most trivial things to fight over.” She was not one to be confrontational and so had never been in a fight herself. Although one would think she would retaliate if someone were teasing her, she would rather be passive aggressive and walk away.

Her eyes dimmed a little as she thought about the world. Her father's pessimism was well warranted. “Dolphins must be lovely creatures.” The statement was completely out of place when looking back on the conversation. She was thinking about Blossom and the dolphineers which led her to thinking about the dolphins. Her father never had let her go and see them. She was always so fond of animals that it would be no stretch for her to start talking about them.

“Of course.” She said, taking the flask back. Bevany's eyes were on his hands which were beginning to play a tune. While dimly aware that she had the flask in her right hand she was focusing on the music. Remembering the words would be difficult so perhaps she would have to fudge a few of them. Err...a lot of them? Lifting her voice to the sound of the guitar she found herself to have a similar soft, airy singing voice to her talking voice. Her father had always told her she had a lovely voice but it sounded a bit dreamy. She did her best to remember the words of the song and as he requested she sang ahh where the words eluded her.