Candidate Barracks
Carved from a natural bubble in the volcanic stone, this cavern has room enough to hold around two dozen occupants in comfort. Set into one of the long walls is a natural hearth area, not as large as some but more then enough to warm the cavern. Before it lays an old, well-worn rug that's colors have faded over turns of being un cared for. Mismatched chairs, an old couch, and a few randomly placed floor pillows finish up the sitting type area where candidates can relax after a long day of chores.
Along the walls are stationed sets of cots and clothes presses with curtains dividing them for privacy, each made up to the standards of the Weyrwoman. The left hand row of cots is made up with coverlets of brown and trimmed in black for male candidates, while the right hand row is made up with a lighter brown coverlet that's trimmed in white for the female candidates.
Above, the soft white light from electric lamps cast down during waking hours, while basket of emergency glows are stored in corners around the cavern for use during power outages.

Everyone totally loves talking about their jobs before they accepted a white knot right? Right? Well, probably not everyone. Alister does, though, and so he did — he didn't lead a lecture or anything but he did get dragged into some of the demonstrations given by the guard corps today. Which has, since, led to some ragging on by his fellows; he's finally escaped it, and has ensconced himself in the little kick-back nook by the hearth and is … ably demonstrating why he didn't pursue a career as a tailor. Stitching up rips in a uniform is one thing! This … this is not that thing. For one thing, this cloth creation of sadness is all white, and his uniforms are mostly black. So there's that.

A little teasing never hurt anyone in Gabriela’s estimation. If you can’t laugh at yourself, consult her and she’ll laugh at you. Goodness knows the girl who fell in the manure pile by the barns is capable of laughing at herself. Gabby is also capable of washing up, which is where she is returning from right now. Hair still damp and curling from the showers she meanders toward the hearth and flops down on a pillow. “What a day,” she announces to nobody in particular. Her pack lands on the floor next to her and she pulls it in front as she rolls onto her stomach. White can’t be all bad can it?

Alister isn't … surprised, really, but he does jump a little bit, and seems glad of the distraction. "You too, huh?" he offers toward the girl on the floor, waving a needle and thread in her direction in hello. "Was that an invitation to ask what and why, or do you just want commiseration without interrogation?" It's an important social distinction!

Flipping open her pack Gabby digs within and pulls out a wad of white. “Oh yeah,” she remarks with a wrinkle of her nose as she looks up at Alister. “Commiseration would be nice.” With a soft grunt she sits up and pulls the semblance of a gown into her lap. “Interrogation is optional,” she teases with a wink and grin. “I pulled duty in the barns this morning and let’s just say I could stand to never see the backside of that particular building again. Nor what’s piled there.” The things that make you go ‘buh’ and squirm.

Alister whistles through his teeth in sympathy, and shakes his head. "Worse than fish guts?" he asks, as if fish guts is his yardstick for things that make you go ewwwwwwww. He examines her with a mock-critical eye, then offers a lopsided grin and a, "You look like you managed to get free of the worst of it, at least." His fabric starts to slide of of his lap, and he grabs it incautiously; there isn't any tragic ripping, but there's some unfortunate tangling. Balls.

“When it’s in your hair..” Gabriela’s expression is one of pure disgust, “I’m going to go with yes. Yes it is worse.” A shrug is given followed by a chuckle, “I clean up nice what can I say?” Granted she’s scrubbed until she felt her skin was raw. But that is beside the point isn’t it? With a dainty flick of her wrists she spreads her cloth out on the rug before the pillow. Catching his movement out of the corner of her eye, she turns her head to look at Alister inquiringly. “Need help with that?” Hers is partially sewn already and from the looks of it she is adding embellishments as she goes along.

"Worse than fish guts, got it," Alister files away, then looks down at his lap and laughs. "I think I need an intervention. It's not that I can't sew," it's almost not a whine. Almost. So close to not being a whine. "It's that trying to get this to resemble and actual garment instead of a sack of sadness is more difficult than sewing back together a rip." He gestures sort of helplessly with his balled-up handful of fabric.

Gabriela isn’t the sort to pity anyone directly so it is not that emotion that has her rising to her feet with a soft laugh. “Mending is /not/ sewing cuteness.” Leave it to a man not to know the difference. “I work on the pillows for a reason you know. It’s easier to spread the fabric and see where you’re at than if you drape it over your lap like this.” She pats his shoulder lightly and reaches for the fabric. “Why not join me there are lots of pillows. And I can help you sort this out.” As she waits for him to give up the cloth she tilts her head and gazes from this angle. “Is that supposed to be a knot stitch or did it tangle?” Oh dear!

Alister's "Yes?" is a little bit hapless, but his grin is genuine. "I think it's a little bit of both. Thanks," he hands over the fabric happily, and pushes out of his chair to plonk down on the floor in front of it instead. "It's all just stitches, right, so it didn't seem like it would be that hard," forgive him his sins, at least he's adorable?

Gabriela pulls her things around and gets situated where they both have ample room to move. With a shake she straightens out his garment and holds it up in front of her. “Well if you keep tracking inward like that it /might/ fit a very skinny person. But it’s sure not going to fit you.” She chuckles and shakes her head as she lays the garment down and pulls a small knife from a pocket in her pack. Woe to Alister as she starts /un/stitching what he’d sewn. “I take it you either find something done that fits or con a sweetheart into making stuff for you?” She looks up at Alister with a wink, “You’re adorable enough.. I can see it being a thing.” Gabby is a natural flirt so taking her too seriously is a dangerous road. At least she is in a good mood as she pulls the snipped thread from the fabric and runs a finger down the cloth.

Alister makes a small noise of dismay as his last half hour or more's worth of work is undone in a few clever swipes of a sharp knife, but it's only a very small noise. Really. "The guard provides," he answers with a laugh, "the majority of my clothes, and I've got a good eye for people who can do the work — it doesn't hurt to pay for quality! … but outside of uniforms, it's mostly lucking into things that fit." He fishes a spool of thread out of his pocket and offers it like a prize. "Sometimes I bribe one of my sisters."

Gabriela clucks sympathetically at the sound Alister makes as she undoes his work. “If I could have left it I would, but unless you plan to remove a rib it wouldn’t fit from looking at you.” Besides it would have done that weird curvy thing that ‘slightly damaged’ clothes do when they are in the discard pile. “I have been sewing and weaving baskets since I was a kid. Sometimes while traveling over rough roads.” She isn’t about to let that mess fly if she can help it. “Never had much luck with Guards,” she says with a shrug. “I tend not to be a favored person.” So why is she sitting here helping him again? “Thank you!” Enthusiastic for the acceptance of a spool of thread, but there you have it. “The thing to keep in mind is you sew this inside out right?” She threads a needle with his thread and lifts the cloth she’d undone. “So you take half a thumbnail of cloth like this at a time and..” the needle flies through the cloth as she works. “Sisters eh?” She laughs softly, “Maybe that explains it. I was the only sister.”

"It was guarding or fishing," Alister admits, watching her hands as she sews with a little bit of an over-awed expression. Clearly this is just another mechanical process but it's one that he is bad at, so her minor skill is still like crazy highway magic. "Where I grew up. And I hate fish. I like being a guard, so it worked out." He leans forward a little to get a better look at what she's doing, then laughs. "I have lots of sisters. I mean, there are sisters, and most of them are mine, but occasionally they're someone else's sister — Breakwater Hold's not that big."

Gabriela listens attentively and somehow manages to look like she is hanging on his every word without missing a stitch. “I’m not sure I could handle fish on a daily basis myself.” If given those options she may have done the same. “I like to eat it once in a while sure. But I can see where you’re coming from.” Everyone has some kind of niche they fill and she is impressed that he’s found his. “My parents were Harpers.” She says ‘harper’ like it’s a filthy word. “So for them it was a craft or /nothing/. When I came of age to choose I ran away. Joined a caravan and lived like that for a long time.” Until she’d had to run away from that too. No wonder she’s fit. “I would have liked a sister. I got along with the women of Dealyr for the most part. But none that close save Mama.” Pausing in her sewing Gabby looks from the fabric to Alister and back again. “You did get your measurements before you cut this right?”

"Do you want one? I'm sure I've got one I could spare." His words may be serious but his expression is just a little too sincere not to be teasing; he holds it for a moment then breaks into a smile. "I heard the weyr was looking to fill out its guard corps, and I was up for a promotion, so I ended up here — got away from the fish." Didn't get away from the family ties, though. "Yee-ees," he answers her after a moment's brow-furrowed thought, "hang on, I have them here." He pats himself down, then pulls a sad, smudgy, crumpled piece of paper with mostly-legible measurements scribbled on it. "Does that help?"

“Ha ha,” Gabriela mocks him with a grin, “very funny.” She chuckles lightly and readjusts the fabric a bit looking at it critically. “So you landed a promotion coming here eh? Good on you.” The how and why of her arrival isn’t something she appears inclined to elaborate upon. So she sits and waits for him to dig out the measurements. “It does…sort of.” Squinting at the measurements she glances at him. “It’s got to be the way you’re sitting then.” Because that elaborates on nothing. Scooting closer she shows him how to follow the line of the fabric she has going as he sews. “They gave me the same amount of fabric as everyone else,” she comments off hand. “I could make an evening gown with the stuff with enough time.” Small and tiny sums Gabby up. “So tell me about your sisters..” She opens up conversation in a direction /away/ from her origins and keeps an eye as they work on their gowns.

It's an open conversational line Alister is happy to take them down: he's got a lot of them. He's got friends who have a lot of them, who might as well be his if you ask anyone involved. (His gift-giving list is the length of his arm). In the course of discussion he even manages to make moderately unhorrible inroads on his robe; under Gabriela's watchful eye he ends up only having to undo and re-do approximately half of his stitches. It's an improvement. Trust me.

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