One-Sided Conversation (Bre & Zeis)

[hope]

Typically, Eavar tried his best to avoid eating when the majority of the masses in Dalibor Weyr ate. He preferred his meals quiet and without bothersome company. This evening though, Eavar had skipped both breakfast and lunch and found himself in a dire fix for food. He was almost dizzy with hunger. One might wonder how one could skip meals in such a way... Well, the answer was simple. Eavar had been working on the scarf for Cyrina all day. Once Eavar started to work on something, he tended to lose track of everything else until he finished it. He'd only started on the scarf that morning but it was already far more than halfway to being finished. He'd stuffed his work into a small satchel that hung on one shoulder, the tail end of the green scarf poked slightly over the side, its tassel bouncing as the young man walked, searching for an unpopulated area to sit at.

Drifting aroma of herdbeast stew tantalized his nostrils and made his stomach perform flip-flops with anticipation. He licked his lips and decided, since everyone seemed so insistent on eating in the kitchen, he'd slip in to the dining hall. Normally he didn't like being in the large cavern because it was so vacant it made him feel small, and if there was one thing Eaver didn't like it was feeling smaller than he already was... But it seemed like the perfect solution to a seemingly unsolvable problem. Quietly, Eavar let his food settle on the table in a corner. He took a brief moment to stretch his aching back before he slid himself awkwardly on to a seat and hunched over his bowl with all the politeness and manners of a neanderthal. Hey... he was hungry, and there was no one else in the room he needed to impress... or was there?

The sound of footsteps bouncing off the empty cavern caused Eavar to sit up straight, his cheeks puffed full from a very large spoonful of stew. With a very hard gulp, Eavar swallowed his food and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic embarrassed that anyone might catch him in such an undignified stance.

[zeis]

Dinner was always a busy time. Zeis worked most of the day in preparation for one meal or another. Picking out ingredients, mixing, kneading, baking, cooling, cutting, and serving were all a part of the steady rhythm of his life. For most of the day, his body was on autopilot. Not to say that he wasn't there paying attention to his tasks, but that his tasks consumed him, thankfully to the exclusion of his wandering thoughts. Thoughts which inevitably would return to the sadness and stress that he felt under the course chosen for him by his slightly domineering mother. It was better not to think about it, he found, and instead work his hardest every day. So he did, and the end of the dinner rush brought both relief and a sense of anticipation. His duties were done for the day, and he had free time to do whatever it was he liked.

He was temporarily spared from any discomfort and worrying by the urgent growling of his stomach. It was strange how a boy who spent so much time around food ended up eating so little. In truth he hadn't eaten a thing yet today, and was surprised at his sudden hunger. Too busy, he supposed. The boy quickly finished cleaning up his normal station in the kitchen, meticulously but futilely dusted flour off his clothes, and helped himself to the remaining odds and ends of food left from dinner. Some stew, a chunk of bread, the remainders of a jug of berry juice that appeared to mostly just be pulp, and a cup into which to pour the elixir. He carefully took his food out to the Dining Hall with him, entertaining plans of lingering over his meal, and perhaps going to bed early tonight. It was unlikely that the boy would actually be able to sleep, but at least trying would eat up time until tomorrow. He was not expecting that many people to still be lingering over their food, and he was right. He paused momentarily in his steps as he saw Eavar, the familiar face popping out at him in the scarcely populated Hall.

Zeis lingered, unsure of what course of action to take. Unlike most of the newly arrived people he had met recently, this boy was actually someone he recognized. The Candidate, Evan... or was it Eavar? Yes, Eavar, had been around the Weyr as long as the young Baker had, and though they had never spoken Zeis had certainly heard of him. They were cruel things mostly, about how long he had been left standing, and his way of off-handedly insulting people around him. Zeis had noticed him around before,and felt sorry for the things said about him. He didn't necessarily want to believe that the boy was what people whispered he was, but at this moment he was afraid of that gossip possibly containing a grain of truth in it. He had to weigh his options fast. Not sitting with the boy and taking another table away from him would be awkward, and especially now that clearly made eye-contact it might seem as if he were avoiding him. Going to sit with him, well, that would be awkward too, and Eavar might be rude to him...

He took a silent and slow deep breath, and decided to throw caution to the wind. No one deserved to be gossiped about, and he would give Eavar a chance before he made any personal judgments about him. Breaking out of his temporarily paralysis, he carefully made his way to the other boy's table, and stopped near it. "Pardon me, would you mind if I sit here?"

[Admin]

So, you're gonna,
Chase me now, boy,
Yeah, you're gonna,
Corner me now, boy.

The hunt for food was generally what drove anyone to the dining hall, and Obelir was no exception. He ambled into the hall, tugging at one ear. The loose shirt, clean and once press but long since rumpled, and slender breeches that he wore on that particular occasion only emphasized his lanky design. He fetched food from the servers, offering the woman who passed him a plate a curt, jovial smile and thanks. Ignorant to any reaction from her, he turned away. Glancing about the hall without really looking, he chose a table by process of elimination and some basic observations. He didn't want to be alone and people around his own age were his best bet with random selection. Zeis and Eavar caught his attention. He paid no mind to the facts that one of them was still standing and he didn't know or even recognize either of them in the slightest.

Obelir had been taught manners. He even, at times, remembered to use them. However, for the most part, he had been raised on just politeness and morals. With a wherhandler for a mother, flourishing in society hadn't been a part of his education. So, without even the slightest hesitation, he marched right up to Eavar's table and sat down, slipping around Zeis to be able to settle on the chair he had wanted. "Hello;" he chimed, beaming in a dopey fashion that seemed his only excuse for his actions. He wasn't trying to make excuses for himself; he was simply behaving how he thought to behave at that moment. Perfectly comfortable where he was, he simply wished to greet them. Picking up a meatroll, he took a bite. It burned his tongue. He hurriedly dropped it, blinking in surprise and raising his hand to his mouth. That had been a foolish move on his part.

Trying to swallow the scalding food, the wher candidate looked up. He was greeted by the sight of hazel eyes, and he sharply became very aware of his company, at least part of it. The younger of the two with which he'd come to sit was only a turn or so his junior. While Obelir's brain helpfully summarized all of the other boy's features, he was mainly one aware of the fact that the random stranger he'd decided to impose himself upon was quite handsome in his mind. After a quick pause, he turned his attention back to his food. Nervously, he raised his thumb to rub it against his nose, fighting back a blush. He should have sat with girls, he realized, as he considered the situation. He never blushed at girls, even when they were as pretty as could be. He could actually manage to be polite and nice to girls. It was so much harder to handle boys for him.

"I'm Obelir;" he said, introducing himself once he was thoroughly embarrassed by nothing at all. Poking his meatroll, he deduced that it was still hot. Then he glanced at the other boy who he'd joined. He didn't feel quite so embarrassed, because Eavar was just another person his own age, someone who he was oblivious about in most aspects. He poked his food some more, learning from the soreness of his mouth to be careful, and avoided looking at the boy who had been standing. Again, he rubbed his nose. Then he hurriedly straightened, raising his brilliantly blue eyes from the table. "Human skin burns at a temperature only a bit higher than that of its natural temperature. Most food is cooked much hotter than that;" he recounted, taking a careful bite of his food. Pleased when it didn't burn him, he chewed at the mouthful happily.

Yeah, you're gonna stamp,
Me down now, boy,
Yeah, you're gonna crush,
Me down now, boy.

[zeis]

Zeis had simply been hovering near the tables edge, waiting for a response from his would be table-mate when another boy brushed past him with a courteous greeting. Grateful for the break in the silence after his request, the Baker turned to regard him with a friendly, if still a little unsure smile. If only he could feel as casual about things, and not need to linger as though for permission for every little thing. What did it say about him, he wondered, that he was really coming to admire and even envy the social graces of strangers he had just met? His momentary look at Obelir confirmed the fact that he was a stranger, perhaps not new to the Weyr but unfamiliar with the young cook. However that look of pained surprise at the food relating burn was altogether too familiar. He winced, and set down the jug of berry juice he had been carrying near the other boy, pushing it gently in his direction should he need a drink.

"Careful." He warned with a sympathetic look, and perhaps thankfully for both of them, had turned to look back at Eavar when Obelir began to blush and fidget. He all together failed to noticed the awkward behavior out of pure circumstance, which no doubt saved the other boy as well as himself no small measure of embarrassment. He fixed Eavar with an apologetic look, and took as seat opposite him on the table, beside the newcomer. The boy really didn't mean to intrude, but a precedent had been set. Now that this space was not only their own to share, he couldn't avoid forcing himself to act as one typically would in the Dining Hall. He took a cautious bite of his own food, and paused in chewing as Obelir spoke.

Zeis turned to look at the boy curiously, with eyebrows slightly raised in mild surprise. He glanced sidelong at his own food as he finished chewing, and swallowed. That would in reality explain a lot of the burns he and the other Kitchen staff obtained. Burns on the tongue, lips, fingers, and arms due to splashes were an unavoidable occurrence every seven-day or so. Thankfully, he hadn't had the displeasure of experiencing one in perhaps a month or more. Of course, he already knew how hot food was cooked, but the vulnerability of his skin was something new to him. "Burns sneak up on you, sadly. Foreknowledge isn't much help."