05-06-06

Characters involved: Flaxpaw & Harper.

RW Abbey: Middle Dormitory

Flaxpaw wanders into the dorm looking absolutely beat, and kinda flops on the floor, not seeing anyone right away. She puts her chin in her paws, and just sits, staring into space.

Ear-twitch. Why an ear-twitch, you ask? Because that... is all of Harper that can be seen. Appearing around the corner of the stairs which lead up from the lower floor, he's listening closely for any sounds. But either he's arrived too late to hear the flop, or he just doesn't hear it. Either way, he breathes a small sigh of relief and bows his head, stepping out into the room as he rubs at the back of his neck, looking down at himself. His other arm is held out from his side, a posture of discomfort? Why is he uncomfortable? Because he's wearing novice garb - a habit. A... 'dress', to his way of thinking. His nose wrinkles and he lets out a half-embarrassed, half-amused sigh.

Flaxpaw looks around at the sigh, catching sight of Harper, and does a double-take. "Harper? Wot're you wearin?" She hasn't caught on yet about the part where we wear habits, still wearing the uniform herself. "she turns herself all the way around, not going to get up, but from here she can really peer up and examine him.

Ho-no! Harper's ears straighten atop his head, making the sudden red flush of his inner ears all the more obvious. Slowly, grudgingly, he lifts his gaze. Aaaand... it's Flax. He offers a shameful grin. "Hey, uh. Flax. Um," he plucks self-consciously at the end of the rope about his waist, letting it drop back down and swing idly back and forth. "Novice habit?"

Novice habit? Well... She scrambles up and goes over to examine it, walking around him and looking it up and down. "Hmm, they don't-er-expect us to /wear/ those, do they? how're we supposed to train in that?

Harper's ears flatten back and he observes Flaxpaw's close observation disconcertedly. Once she starts walking around him, he twists around to follow her, yelping out a surprised, "Hey!" He blushes, rather awfully, but does his best to keep his composure. He shrugs, roughly. "I dunno I guess why'reyouaskingme?" all in rapid succession and with no pause, and run together just like that at the end. Then, the pitch of his voice higher than normal and a little squeaky with nerves, "I don't know!"

Flaxpaw grins at him. "Relax, Harper, we're in this together, you know. wot they do t'you, they'll likely do t'me too. just want t'see how bad it is. Sure majah'll let us wear our uniforms when we're not...er...studyin an bein good novices, eh?"

... Oh. Well, when you put it /that/ way... Harper stops moving, though his posture remains uncomfortably stiff. He watches her with a distrustful frown, as if expecting her to point and laugh at any moment. But he at least lets her scrutinize the outfit, should she want to. "Yeah, well..." He lifts the edge of the habit and leans one paw against the wall so that he can lift one sandaled footpaw and shake it about. "They're just about gonna have to let us change, 'cause I sure as hell ain't gonna run with these on." Oh, speaking of that. "You hear? We're supposed to start going out on a morning run, all of us recruits, and find some time in the afternoons to train, as well."

Flaxpaw does look him over rather carefully, peering in disbelief at the sandle. "No, haven't heard much of anythin. saw majah briefly, but he just had to clean up more problems then he left." she sighs deeply at that, then shrugs. "An I'll certainly not be wearin that get-up to do anythin but sit in some abbey classroom."

Harper listens with an expression of exaggerated neutrality to words of the major, but snorts at her latter statement. "You will if they tell us to," is his only reply. He smirks and casts one more rueful glance down at himself and the silly get-up.

Flaxpaw nods and looks glum. "Yeah, suppose so. Can't argue with majah, can you?"

Harper can't help it - he frowns. He keeps his head bowed under the premise of continuing to fuss with his habit. "You really like the major or something, huh?"

Uh-oh, she's shown it again. She blushes bright red. "w-well, yeah, i guess...that is..." she sighs, taking a couple steps away. "He's, er, a good officer....."

"... Yeah. I figured." He flops backward, landing with a leaning thump against the wall behind him. He assumes a folded-arm posture, already taking advantage of the loose and overly long sleeves of the habit to tuck one arm within the sleeve of the other. He is an odd combination of Orderly - with a capital O - and lounging youth. "'Cause you mention him, like, every five seconds." Not the sort to hedge his words, this one.

Flaxpaw again notes the similarity to jarril in the bluntness, maybe why she can't stop talking about him.... her shade of red deepens, and she scuffs her footpaws a little. "Do I? didn't realise....."

Harper greets her reddening and discomfort with initial silence, a long and thoughtful one. In the end he shrugs - shakes his head. "Never mind that. I'm just..." And he shrugs. "An arse." He pushes off the wall, then, and starts for the stairs. He pauses before them, leaning in the doorway for a second before ascending. His ears flick, and he sends a short glance to the side so that he can just see the doe out of the corner of his eye. "... Sorry." And up he goes, to activities unknown.