Vostarik can be nice?

An expansive area is permeated with the smell of klah, probably originating from the pot over in the corner that serves as a makeshift kitchen, complete with stove, plates and mugs, and food. Captivating the eye, however, is a large oaken table. Platters of meatrolls and cups of klah have been placed in the center. A few chairs sit at it, but most arc, with some couches, around a sizable and often crackling fireplace. Occupying most of a wall, a bookcase has been laden with the efforts of several now-journeymen, which have become often-consulted tomes. Doorways lead in all directions, and a staircase in one corner leads both up, to the staff area and down to the main corridor of the hall.
This place is neat and clean, the work of busy Apprentices.
Gliding above is a brown firelizard.
You see Apprentice Chore Board here.
Issri is here.
Obvious exits:
Male Dorms Female Dorms Staff Hallway Main Hall

Issri is sitting in one of the couches, well sunken, and reading one of the books left by the Journeymen. Charlie and Hawk are pecking around on the floor near her feet, playing with each other in their odd way.

Vostarik has been crowing around the Hall all day about his promotion. Indeed, he still is - his voice precedes him into the lounge. "Yeah, well, shut /up/, man, I outrank you!" he calls laughingly over his shoulder as he steps into the room, making a beeline for the klahpot. Issri catches his eye, since she's the only other person in the room, as he reaches for a mug. "Whatcha doing?" He's in an uncharacteristically good mood. Sort of.

Issri looks up, eying him levelly. She lifts the book and says with a hint of sarcasm, "Er, reading? Why, is that against your rules?" Slight stress on the 'your', there.

"Naw, just didn't know that ya'll knew how to read right." Despite what he's saying, Vostarik doesn't say it /maliciously./ He tips klah into his mug with a generous hand, even glancing over his shoulder at her to offer, "Klah?"

Issri snorts and then nods, "Please," she says to his offer. She closes the book and sets it aside, "Not interesting anyway. Going on and on about the different colors of runners. As if it matters what color they are."

Vostarik splashes a liberal amount of klah into a second mug before setting the pot back down. He's already gulping from his by the time he brings Issri's over to the couch. "It does. Shi— shells, people'll pay out the ass for cool-colored runners. Saw this one blobby roan-y paint go for a fortune, once. Thickest neck I've ever seen on an animal, but the dude didn't care about that, I guess."

Issri rolls her eyes, "They're idiots, then, if they judge a runner by its coloration instead of its points and skills. Like judging people by their looks alone."
I don't understand that.

"More like judging people by their hair color, actually." Man, has that new knot put Vos in a good mood. He flops into a chair opposite Issri, rocking it onto its two back legs, and takes another sip of klah. "Not that I disagree with judging people by their looks. You can tell a lot about 'em that way. More than you can about runners, anyway."

Issri narrows her eyes on Vos, "What do you mean? What can you tell about someone from their looks?" She thinks for a moment, "I suppose you could tell if they took care of themselves and were clean and tidy. But still, that doesn't tell you what kind of person they are."

Vostarik scoffs. "Of course you can. Like, uh." He snaps the fingers on one hand restlessly, then points abruptly at Issri. "Like fat people. Can't control 'emselves, clearly. Because if they did, then they wouldn't be fat." These are all Very Important Issues to Vos. "Or like you Herder girls. Clearly don't care about ever getting wed, 'cause you lot /could/ be a lot more attractive than you are, if you just tried some."

Issri bristles, "Maybe fat people are just depressed, or something, and can't help it. Like that one Journeyman whose wife died? He ate through his grief, and now he's fine." Then she laughs outright at him, "Well what about you? Boots all scuffed, slouching all the time. You don't care about finding a mate either, then?"

"/I/ have tons more time to get a woman," Vostarik defends himself, though he does sit up a little straighter. "Everyone knows /guys/ look better as they get older. Girls…" He lets the thought trail off knowingly.

Issri laughs, "Oh yeah? What about Gerard? He was adorable when he was little, but now that his voice has cracked people are saying he's as ugly as they come. But he's really nice, actually. So you can't judge people by what they look like. You, for instance, look handsome, but everyone knows how mean you can be."

Vostarik waves a dismissive hand (the one that isn't holding his klah). "Gerard's probably half girl anyway. Geez, that pansy." Another sip of klah, then he runs a hand through his hair, looking pleased. "I /do/ look handsome, don't I?" Way to miss the point. "Especially with this awesome new knot."

Issri looks at the knot, squinting at it and leaning forward, "Oh, you got a new knot? I didn't notice." She shrugs and sips at her klah.

Vostarik sits up again, all the better to show off the knot. Look how .. well, old and kind of wrinkled it is, but it's still awesome. "Well, now you have." Smug. "Have you seen Iasri around? I've gotta tell her something."

Issri smirks, "What, how much you loooove her?" she teases, adjusting herself on the couch so her legs are tucked under her.

"Ha ha, Vos is in love with Iasri, very funny," Vostarik responds unenthusiastically. Blah. Then he remembers what he was going to say and brightens again. "No, no. But Master Jadall said I'm in charge of her now." Mua ha ha.

Issri laughs, "Oh she'll love that! You two will have so much fun yelling at each other. I can't wait to see this."

"Ha! None of this 'at each other' nonsense." Vostarik is about to become a stickler! "I outrank her. She can't yell at me. I outrank you, too," he adds, giving her a warning look over the rim of his mug. Just in case.

Issri looks right back at him and smirks, "As if you'd do anything," she says with a laugh. Perhaps surviving the fire has given her slight immunity at the Hall. Either that or she never gets in trouble. They have permitted her Charlie, though…The chicken chirps and tries to jump onto the girl's lap as Hawk does. Bending down, she lifts him into her arms and smiles, snuggling happily with her firelizard and her pet chicken. "So what are you going to do with your new rank?

Go to Disneyland! "Make it to journeyman in record time, of course." Vostarik sounds vaguely less certain about this, but still sure enough to sound obnoxious. Huzzah. "And see if I can get that damn chicken out of here. Faranth, it's big enough to go out in the coops. Get it out of here, it's unsanitary."

Issri glares at Vostarik. "Tavaris told me I could keep him, and he's got more rank than you." She doesn't know that, actually, but she's guessing. "And Rhaenyra also said that I could keep him." She sticks her tongue out at the /senior/ apprentice. "What do you want to specialize in?" she asks, honestly curious.

"Rhaenyra /left./" No, Vostarik doesn't believe all that 'super secret Herder mission' talk. Besides, it's more cool to think of himself as the mentorless wonder. He leans back in his chair again, legs stretching out in front of him as he polishes off the last of his klah. "Specializing in .. something to do with runners, Iunno. Not /avians./ Agh."

Issri smirks, "You don't have the temperament for avians. Runners seem right up your alley. Want to train racing runners, maybe?"

Vostarik huffs. "Avians don't have the temperament for /me/," he corrects her, crossing his arms, empty mug still in hand. as he considers racing runners. "Nah. Boring. Plus, might put me in even closer contact with Iasri." Always something to consider. "Nothing interesting about runners galloping and then stopping." He switches hands for his mug. "Don't tell me you're /actually/ going to specialize in avians."

Issri giggles, "Right, I forgot, it's all about you isn't it?" She grins, "Sure am, and proud of it, so don't you try to tear me down. I haven't insulted your specialty, have I."

"Yet," Vostarik mutters darkly, but he doesn't pursue the topic further. "Whatever. Anyway." He stands up, stretching, and walks over to set the mug over on the table where it came from. "I've got new things to do. If you see Iasri, tell her I'm looking for her. —not like /that/." Oh, he knows how that'll go. And with that, he heads out the door to the stairwell.

Issri smirks, "Take care, Rik."

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