Kick up your heels? [open]

[diogenessbeast]

Kordelia valued any time which was her own.

She wasn't used to having it all that often. Responsibilities-- be they chores, or social, or familial- were her norm, and she was used to having stuff to do. Thus, whenever she got the chance to relax, she relished it.

It wasn't as if she did anything major, either: usually she'd find a quiet corner and get out a piece of parchment or hide, and worry over her cramped language, choosing words carefully and writing them down. Her parchment was frequently heavy with crossed-off sections, and occasionally she'd ball it up and get out another sheet, to start again.

Tonight was no different. It was evening, after the meal, and the candidates had a few hours to relax. She sequestered herself in the barracks' common room, finding a quiet corner somewhat out of the way, and setting down to begin her process of writing again.

Before she had the chance to begin in earnest, however, a firelizard appeared before her, fluttering it's wings to stay aloft. She narrowed her eyes at it, recognizing it instantly: the messenger from her sister, the only one who really bothered to contact her anymore. The firelizard chirped with unreasonable self-importance and stuck out her leg, obviously indicating that this letter was important.

Kordelia grabbed the letter away, and scowled as she read it, not bothering to hide her unpleasant emotions. Family letters were always frustrating, and this was no different. This one didn't even hold anything particularly new, nor anything particularly offensive, but still, the dark storm of her emotions were evident as she read. When she was done, she balled up the paper and threw it in the corner, turning to the little bronze on the table. "Go home, I have no response for you."

It chirped, looked offended, and disappeared, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the rest of the common room. When it was gone, Kordelia stared at the parchment, lips pressed together. Her muse was gone, now, and that was only that much more frustrating.

[Zero]

There was a slight bounce in Fallons stride tonight as he made his way through the dimly lit halls. All in all it had been a fairly decent night and he was still determined to take full advantage of their evening of relaxation. Even if their teacher had handed out some pointless chore the thief would have easily disregarded the instructions. As far as he was concerned the nights belonged to him and no brownrider would be able to convince him otherwise.

Rounding a final corner Fallon found himself at his destination and quickly shouldered the door to the candidate barracks open, or more precisely the common room. He had a small black pouch swinging from each hand when he entered which he carefully set on the small table that was nearest to his chosen seat. Dropping down on the soft cushion he kicked his feet up on the table and removed the small throwing knife from its special sheath inside his boot. Carefully setting the blade on the table beside him, Fallon produced another, larger, blade from someplace at his side and set it beside its sibling.

Moving on to his pouches, the thief produced a small rock and blue cloth from one and two small vials of liquid, one red one clear, from the other. Taking extra care when he handled the red vial, Fallon spread his tools across the table and was about to get to work when the rustling of parchment from off in the corner grabbed his attention. Instantly his hardened gaze snapped to the source of the noise, ready to leap into action as his hand had found the handle of his throwing knife and was slowly tightening around it.

The room didn’t have the best light and as he was sitting near to the low flames dancing in the fireplace, it hindered his eyesight for a split second. The thief blinked and refocused his gaze till the silhouette of a girl sitting in the opposite side of the room to him became clear. It had to be one of the girls from the candidate lessons he’s been forced to attend. An audible sigh left him as the beginnings of a silent snarl took over his features. Every other night the common room was like a ghost town but the one night he wanted to use it someone just had to be here too. Typical.

Turning his attention away from the girl Fallon looked over everything he had laid out on the table. Well it would be a waste to pack it all up now. Ruffling his hair he sighed at the thought of packing it all up without accomplishing anything and instead hunkered down in his chair and began his nightly ritual of sharpening, polishing, and adding a little something extra, to his personal arsenal.

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[diogenessbeast]

Kordelia wasn't much in the mood for sharing the space, either, to be perfectly frank. When her fellow candidate wandered into the room, she glanced up but said nothing: as much as she'd've liked to snarl and send him out of the room, it wasn't her room to be able to do that with, and-- according to the weyr, of course-- all candidates were equals. It wouldn't do for her to cost herself a chance at impression just because she didn't want to deal with someone in such close quarters.

He seemed to ignore her, so she settled back in her seat, content to go back to her own writing and brooding. Brooding was, after all, one of her best talents. She shuffled through her parchments and shifted her focus away from him entirely, ready to leave him alone, if that was what he wanted.

His sigh distracted her, and she glanced up with a hint of an impatient glare on his face, to catch the barest hints of a snarl as he looked at her. She narrowed his eyes. Had he not noticed her here before, or something? How rich of him to be so impatient, as if she had done him a disservice by being here- she had as much right as he did to be so! And it wasn't as if he had to deal with the same sort of familial issues. She bit back a biting response that rose immediately to her lips- something along the lines of how snarling made him look like some kind of feral canine-- and instead mulled over her words for a few moments.

When she did speak, her words had an edge, but it was hidden beneath layers of sugary politeness. Never loose face when you're being a #$#@. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I inconveniencing you by being here? I would hate to be a distraction to you.." she glanced down at the table and raised an eyebrow, "Sharpening your knives." She paused again, and added. "I'm sure it takes the utmost concentration."

[Zero]

After he had taken his eyes off the girl hiding in the corner Fallon had fallen right into his task at hand. With great care he tended to his small arsenal, sharpening the weapons to work any dullness and nicks out of the blades before he would move on to polishing and cleaning. A sudden rustling and shuffling of papers though stole his attention, distracting him enough from his delicate task as to allow the larger of the two blades to slip from his grasp and slice cleanly through his palm. His eyes narrowed as he shot a glare in her direction just in time to witness her ball another piece of parchment and discard it off to the side. At least he was accomplishing something tonight instead of wasting parchment and making a mess.

Flexing his hand once or twice to inspect the damage Fallon made a tight fist, hissing lowly as the sparks of pain traveled up his arm. The cut wasn’t relatively deep but the shallow wounds seemed to love to bleed as much as their deeper counterparts. He shrugged it off, it would clot soon. The only thing he was put off about was the effect it would have on his accuracy. He struggled to take a calming breath lest he do something hasty. After all, relaxing was about just that, relaxing, not waving around death threats or promising a painful end to it all no matter how entertaining it may be.

The thief had just managed to calm himself enough to focus back on his work when her voice cut across the room and reached his ears. Oh there might have been the thin layer of politeness smeared across her statement but Fallon could sense the inner harshness and frustration. He was a skilled man in the dastardly arts of the darker crafts after all, he had been trained to pick up on the subtle emotions in a strangers statement and she wasn’t as skilled as hiding her true feelings as she believed. Fallon smirked at the thought.

“Oh excuse me, is my very presence enough to disturb you from that fine pile of ruined parchment you were working on?” It was truly a snide remark but at that moment he didn’t care whether he offended her or not. As far as he was concerned she was just another person who was trying to claw their way into this place while he wanted nothing more than to get out. Didn’t they see how they were giving up their freedom for this stone prison? “And yes, it is a delicate process. Wouldn’t you just hate for me to slip up and send one flying?”

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[diogenessbeast]

Kordelia watched him, raising an eyebrow when his hand slipped and he cut himself, as she waited for his response. That response was much as similar to her own, but it came with a threat tagged on behind it, which made her frown. She might think he had been well-trained, were it not for that. She did not look intimidated, though- merely not impressed.

"Well, If I recall correctly, it was you who fixed me with a snarl that might make a cur jealous." she commented nonchalantly, "For simply sitting here with my writing- but be that as it may, no, I can work on my parchment just fine."

Then she grinned and nodded to his hand, "You, however, look as if your concentration might need a touch of work. Forgive me, if I was the cause of your wound, there. Really, I would think someone who keeps such a selection of tools might know how to more safely employ them." She yawned, and turned back to her paper, "Particularly over such a routine task as sharpening them." She said this with a note of bored finality, s if his presence held no more interest to her, and went back to working on her parchments.