Not In A Hold

Writers: Leigh M-F., Miriah
Date Posted: 5th February 2014

Characters: Ninaine, A'kua
Description: Ninaine fails to make a positive impression on Aluka
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 5, day 15 of Turn 7

Ninaine

His gitar strings had worn out again, so he had taken on a few extra chores
in order to get new ones. His Candidacy for strings that didn't wear out so
fast! Or maybe he should just play less. (Which would be like asking greens
and golds to stop rising.)

His patience had been rewarded just this evening, and so he was spending
what could have been time in the dining cavern perched on his cot,
re-stringing his gitar, half-eaten dinner half forgotten on a tray next to
him. After completing the tightening and tuning, Aluka had a gulp of fruit
juice -ugh, it was getting warm-, then ran his calloused fingertips over the
strings for some warmups before beginning to play seriously.

"I won't see ya 'til New Turn;
The coal dust makes my lungs burn.
But the foreman, he don't worry;
He say 'Work, boy, there's no hurry.'
Don't that big Red Star look a lot like fire
When ya come out of the ground
After forty-eight hours?

Goin' down, down, down, down, down,
Goin' down those earthen deeps.
Goin' down, down, down, down, down;
There's no mercy in my sleep.

I still hear the chisels and hammers,
I feel the killin' heat.
Goin' two miles down to the heart
Of those earthen deeps."

Ninaine's attention had been caught by the sound of music in the barracks,
but it wasn't any sort of traditional ballad that she had ever heard before.
Far more used to Harpers playing songs meant for a delicate ear, she
couldn't help but search out the singer; he wasn't hard to find. Her brow
knit as she listened to the words and took a step closer. She waited until
he stopped and blinked, her lower lip pursed slightly.
"That's...depressing."

Aluka jerked in place and looked up, confused as to why anyone would be
bothering him, especially someone new to the ranks. He looked Ninaine up and
down once, then studied her face. Not a threat. Rather good-looking, what
with that hair and those curves. He reached for the fruit juice again,
having a gulp. "'S meant to be," he said casually once he set the liquid
aside. "Not all jobs on Pern're neat, pretty an' polished-like."

It wasn't his answer that unnerved her, but the way that he had studied her
shape, even so briefly, made her back stiffen. She cleared her throat and
lifted her chin. "No, but they need to be done. You make it sound horrible."

The redhead smiled briefly. "That's 'cause I'm pretty sure it is. I'm not
scared of small spaces or anythin', but the thought of a days-long shift in
an airless, filthy pocket of earth is just 'bout 'nuff to give anyone the
jibblies. An' when's the last time a coal miner got thanked, anyway? I
certainly don' know."

Ninaine's frown deepened. "But no one wants to think about that, especially
here. Why sing about something so sad?"

Aluka shrugged. "Why not?" He paused, and added thoughtfully, "Though that's
a good reason to do it; make people think 'bout it, realize how lucky they
are."

"But..." Ninaine stared at him. "traditional songs have a purpose. Are you
not a Harper?"

"Not really." The tall youth laid the gitar next to him on the bed with
uncharacteristic gentleness, giving its neck a fond stroke before taking the
tray across his knees. "I just compose whatever I wanna. More fun that way.
If'n ya want somethin' more traditional, I can do that too, but it bores
me." He motioned to the chair in front of the tiny desk where he did his
homework, indicating the other Candidate should make herself comfortable if
she desired.

"Oh. I thought you were. Forgive me for my assumption." Her fingers twitched
in her skirts as she glanced at his chair; she nodded at his motion and sat
primly, folding her hands in her lap with ease. "Thank you."

"Don' mention it. Anyway, we're not allowed to officially craft while we're
Candidates," Aluka said around a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Didn'
someone tell ya that when ya got here?" The conversation was surprisingly
easy. Maybe the awkward, stilted small talk he was forcing himself to engage
in was coming in handy. Then again, he should still be on his guard. No,
that was his paranoia talking. Down, boy.

Ninaine stroked her skirts as she stifled as sigh. She'd already explained
this to one boy. "Proper young ladies don't craft anyway, so it didn't
concern me. I already have the skills I need." She wrinkled her nose
slightly as he spoke with food in his mouth. Poor manners, but not everyone
had a proper upbringing, she reasoned.

Oh, brother. Another brainwashed beauty. How sad. His mood took a downturn,
and Aluka found himself choking on a variety of responses, none of them
good. "We ain't got much use for proper in a Weyr," finally slipped out.

Brows immediately raised. "On the contrary, there is always room for proper
behavior." Her voice was polite, but firm. "Even the weyr needs rules and a
need for someone to set good examples, is that not so? Why...if everyone who
came from a Hold or Hall immediately started behaving like hooligans, there
would be nothing but chaos."

"Okay, lemme rephrase. We ain't got much use for a stiflin', overbearin'
Hold's definition of proper in a Weyr." Aluka finished the bread and cheese
and started on what was left of the fish that had been grilled to
maddeningly delicious flakiness.

Her lips parted in surprise at the sudden vehemence from the young man. She
blinked, frowned and lifted her chin. "I'm sorry if you find proper behavior
stiflin' or overbearin'. " She mimicked his phrasing nearly exactly,
including the intonation. "But even I've seen polite conversation in this
Weyr. Are you incapable of it?"

"Nah. Just don' have much use for it." Aluka finished his dinner and put the
tray back on his pillow, then looked at the young woman directly again. "I
liked that spite ya showed me just now," he said, surprising himself with
his sincerity. "Keep it up, will ya? People don' gotta be proper all the
time."

"Perhaps you should have use for it." Her response was prim. "And I wasn't
being spiteful. I was making a point." She stroked her hands over her
skirts, soothed by the feel of the soft material. "And yes, I do."

Aluka sighed sadly. He should have known this would go nowhere. The
brainwashing was too deeply imbedded for a few days at the Weyr to undo.
Well, maybe she would learn differently if she Impressed, or found a craft
she realized she simply could not do without. (Painting seemed like it might
suit her, somehow.) "Please leave now," he said quietly, looking away and
setting his gitar on his thighs.

She sighed and rose, shaking her head. At least the boy had said please. She
paused before she left, looking him over. "You should be a Harper. You have
the voice for one." She nodded and turned on her heel to walk away.

The compliment did not make the other Candidate feel any better. He knew
that already. His only response, left unspoken, was **And ya should realize
you're not in a Hold any more, and ya never haveta go back. You're free.**

Last updated on the March 15th 2014

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Not In A Hold