2684.12.17: A Dance With Danger

Date: 17.12.2684 (04.17.10)
Location: Beven Dance Hall, Fort Weyr
People: Anaky, Galina
Firelizards: Brown Redwort
Synopsis: Two people looking for others wind up finding each other instead. Dancing and nosebiting is the result.


It's a little past mid-day and Galina finds herself, inexplicably, in the dance hall of all places. While the hall itself is nearly empty, there are some dance lessons being held, occupying a couple of corners and leaving the rest of the place to be an echoing void. The Healer is in a rare state of being utterly perplexed, her too-pale gaze drifting about the mostly empty hall in pursuit of something that cannot be seen. Her mouth is drawn into a thin line and a folded note of some sort is held in her hands along with a jar of something or another, while her usual satchel remains hanging at mid-back, the strap running cross-wise over her person. And she is /puzzled/. It might be comical if she weren't so utterly serious about the whole thing, whatever it is.

There's a quiet, gentle humming carrying down the tunnel, accompanied by soft footsteps, the sound wandering and unhurried. It's not long before a young man, perhaps no more than seventeen turns of age, appears at the entry to the dance hall, a jacket swaying to and fro over one shoulder as he steps in a sort of pattern before giving a bit of a twirl. The humming trails off, Anaky stopping just within the cavern, pale gaze sweeping over those already present. There's a bit of a puffed out breath, and a sinking of his shoulders, upon spotting the dance lessons already in progress. "He said he'd be here," the boy glums, expression falling to disappointment momentarily, before he brightens and pads into the hall, approaching the first unoccupied person he comes to, "Hey, you didn't happen to see B'ky in here a minute ago, did you? Um, he wears really bright clothes." That'd be directed to Galina there, the lad pausing as he takes in her expression, thin eyebrows rising a little, "You okay?"

The young woman's mouth pulls slightly to a side after a long moment and Galina's about ready to turn and leave when Anaky makes his appearance. There's a lag between his question and her answer, filled with a slow blink on her part and an eventual, "I have not seen him, no. I was looking for someone as well, but it does not seem anyone is where they are supposed to be." There's a wry edge to her tone, though it might be difficult to discern. The Healer turns the jar in her hands, the note earning another glance. "I am fine, simply confused. It will pass," she ressures, addressing his latter question. There's a pause, some set of gears clicking along in her head ponderously … and then she queries blandly: "How are you?"

Anaky puffs out another breath, shoulders sinking further, the boy muttering, "Hmph, he promised." The dance lessons are eyed jealously for a second, the lad then turning to the healer, "Oh? Who were you looking for?" Nodding back to the lessons, "You here for the dancing too? I don't really need them, but my brother promised he'd show me something." There's a brief pause, head tilting to the side as he regards the note and jar. "Confused?" one eyebrow sneaks higher, Anaky leaning a bit on one leg as answer, "I'm alright. I just hope Bev didn't forget. It'd be a lovely waste of an afternoon." He might sound a little sulky there, but his eyes brighten, "Oh, if you're waiting for a partner, I think we could sneak in together," indicating the lessons over there.

"I am not certain who it is that I am supposed to meet," is the source of her confusion. The note is lifted and offered over, the writing plain 'dance hall, 1pm; be there' but altogether unhelpful. "The handwriting is unfamiliar. It was attached to this," the jar is then indicated. "Vanilla-scented lotion. It was left in my room." Her mouth distorts a little. She remains otherwise still, pale eyes slanting askance to consider the dancers before they fall on Anaky again. There's a long moment or two after he makes his suggestion, a bit of bewildered silence on her part that's easily masked with an indifferent expression. Moments later, Galina intones matter-of-factly, "I would not make a good dance partner. Perhaps B'ky was simply waylaid and will be here soon."

Anaky leans to peek at the note, head tilting further, a bit of hair falling over his face as he does so. The jar is given a look, the boy wrinkling his nose ever so slightly, "In your room? I suppose it would have to be someone you know, wouldn't it? Unless they broke in or got a firelizard to between in somehow." He brushes the hair away from his face, tucking it behind one ear and giving Galina a grin, "Oh come on, you couldn't be that bad a of a dancer?" There's even a bit of a cheeky, "I'll bet it's more fun than standing around here waiting. Whoever it is, will probably show up eventually, right?" He moves over by the wall to drop his jacket, and then holds out a hand, "Yeah, he might have been. He's got more paperwork than Igen has sand," giving a bit of a half-shrug, "Besides, you haven't got anything better to do, do you?" one eyebrow quirking upward at her.

"Redwort alerted me to the intrusion, so it was not someone he was familiar with," she determines, though her mouth continues to resolve itself into that hard, distorted line. There's a shake of her head and then she reaches to put the note and jar away into the belly of the bag … and then to slowly work the strap off. "I do not dance, typically," is her explanation, pale eyes tracking Anaky's movements all the while. Galina's brow furrows just a touch before smoothing out and she goes to put her bag down — near Anaky's jacket, out of convenience of location. "That is highly improbable," states she of B'ky's paperwork, though it could very well be linked to his comment of 'fun'. Without context, it could be anything. "Better is relative," she clarifies after a moment. "I have studying that could be done, in the meantime." Yet, his offered hand is given a lingering look, her expression as impassive as ever. Finally, she takes it in one of her cool, long-fingered own. "However, it would not be appropriate to leave you without a partner."

"Redwort?" he looks confused for a second, "Oh, is that the name of your firelizard?" There's a bit of a light laugh, Anaky giving the healer-girl something of a grin, "You don't have to if you don't /want/ to," he adds, and there might be a little pout at that, "But I'll bet it's more fun than studying. What are you studying, anyway?" with a glance at her shoulder, since he's apparently not bothered to peek at her knot yet. He's quick to close his hand around hers once she takes his, however, "Come on, one dance lesson isn't going to kill you." His grin widens, the oy raising the other hand to wave as the dance instructor as he heads that way, giving Galina a gentle tug if she doesn't move along with.

"Redwort is the brown. Cyanosis is the blue," Galina explains. It's the former that's summoned with a strong mental tug, his hissing self descending to guard her satchel as he so often does. There's a look askance to Anaky, then a slight shake of her head as she muses cryptically, "Sometimes, what is wanted is not needed — and vice versa." Narrow shoulders rise and fall in a shallow shrug and, as he starts to move, she follows along — no tugging needed. "Surgery," she explains, leaving the more obvious details left out — it's all in the knot. "I am studying under Senior Journeyman Grigoriy." Pause. "Do you have a particular specialty?" Her mouth distorts, an attempt at a smile that withers quickly. "It may not kill me, but it can result in significant bodily harm." For him? For her? Who knows?

"Cyanosis? That's knd of a funny name," said with a glance back at the hissing 'lizard. "Well, yeah," he laughs, "Nobody really /needs/ to dance. Unless you're a Lord Holder or harper or something," one side of his mouth rising wryly, "Can't say I wouldn't like that kind of job, though. Sitting around doing nothing gets /boring/." He tosses his head for emphasis, moving to join the other students in the lesson. "That your specialty?" he asks, and then answers with his own, "Embroidery," using his free hand to tug at an embroidered sleeve. The design is complex, but there are some uneven stitches here and there, certainly not a professional's work. "I'm just visiting K'ley - she's a journeyman here. But most of the time, I'm back at the Hall." His brows rise once again, "I promise you'll still be able to walk after this!" voice light, half-teasing, "At least, so long as I know where your feet are. No foot-stomping, I swear."

"They do more work than it appears they do," she points out, though it's with a dismissive rise-fall of a shoulder. "Cyanosis is named for a condition. It was slightly more fitting than Hypothermia." This is offered blandly, of course; it seems only right that the Healer would name her pets after Healer-y things. But, there is a definite spark of interest when he shows off the sleeve, her brows knitting just a little while she studies it. Or, rather, tries to, since they're getting situated, as it were. "I see," she says, finally looking up at him. "I do some sewing as well, beyond applying sutures. You seem to have a good hand for it. Embroidery is a fascinating art." There's a shallow nod for his explanation, then a wry contortion of her smile at his latter words. Galina muses, "I am not as concerned for myself as I am for you. Your feet may not be as safe as you say mine will be." Once they've joined the others, she remains rigidly upright, her hand still in his but otherwise stuck in that awkward position of just … standing there, utterly clueless.

"True," Anaky nods a little, "Still seems like a nice job, though." Another glance back at the firelizard, "What kind of condition?" before the boy chuckles, "Now /that/ would be a funny name for a firelizard. What's it mean?" He's a weaver, not a doctor, alas. It's all medical-babble to him, alas. "Oh?" he perks at the mention of her sewing, and then makes a bit of a face, "I don't know how anyone could keep their stomach while sewing people up. I once had to have it done, and I couldn't look at it at all." If there was any question of Anaky's manliness, well. There it goes, flitting off to parts unknown. He ducks his head for just a moment, adjusting his sleeve with his free hand, and uttering a, "Thanks," before he grins and looks up again, "What kind of things do you sew? I mean, other than healer-stuff." Mention of feet has the lad looking down a moment, "Well, I've never seen anyone reak their toes, and besides," he laughs a bit, "this is just a lesson. Here, but your other hand on my shoulder." He glances over to watch the instructor, telling Galina aftr a second, "Relax, the worst that could happen is one of us falls over." His tone is still light and joking, moving his hand to her waist if she lets him, and suggesting, "Swing you hips a little to loosen up." And he'll demonstrate by doing a little wiggle of his own, laughter in his eyes.

"Cyanosis is the result of oxygen deprivation," Galina explains in her typical deadpan, while he directs her on where her hands ought to go. "Lips turn blue and the fingernail beds also turn blue. It seemed appropriate for a blue firelizard." There's a slight pause, then: "Hypothermia is caused by being out in the cold and ill-prepared for it. Long periods of time spent in icy water or out in the snow, for example." It's the (very) short form, from her tone; perhaps she's learned some means of tact in not rambling overly much about the details. "Surgery is not for everyone," she admits once her hand is settled on his shoulder and she's squared up. "However. I enjoy repairing things. Stuffed toys in particular." She glances down when he places his hand at her waist, her brow knitting a little. Galina looks at him again, a shallow sway of her hips being given that seems to do nothing at all for loosening her up. Still, there's something to be said for the fact that she's willing to make the effort. "Falling over tends to result in worse things," she points out blandly. "You could crack your head on the ground or I could land poorly and break my wrist."

Anaky huhs, pausing to listen to her explanation there, and staring a bit, "Really? Um.. I guess that makes sense," for the color, "I'll bet a lot of people get that Hypothermia thing around here, with all the snow and going between so much." There's a pause and a half-worried, "You can't get it from going between a lot, can you?" At least the lad doesn't turn green or anything. Yay for tact? "Stuffed toys? That's pretty cute. Do you collect them?" He makes a little grimace, "Well, I promise not to fall over," a pause, "And if you do, I'll catch you, alright?" Anaky manages a grin, expression lightening immediately in what is likely meant to be a reassuring look, "I've never seen anyone hurt while dancing, anyway." He peeks back over as the instructor begins to demonstrate a set of moves, and then starts moving himself, careful steps, his own posture fairly relaxed. "Just do what everyone else is doing," Anaky tells Galina cheerfully, though his eyes flicker downward to watch their feet.

The staring is a familiar reaction, so it doesn't garner more than an owlish blink from the Healer. Galina answers the question of hypothermia with a singular shake of her head and a thin attempt at a reassuring smile. "No. You are not Between long enough for your body to suffer hypothermia. If you were to jump into an icy lake, it may take a matter of minutes for it to set in, for example." She remains stiff and still until he starts to move, with her movements being careful — if incredibly stiff — reflections of his. "I have a few. Oksana, a green firelizard, and Sasha, a black and white canine of a sort. Cyanosis has taken a liking to Oksana." If there's one thing to be said for her, at least she's willing to answer the questions posed of her. Even if the answers might be embarrassing to anyone else. "Do you collect anything at all?" she then wonders, openly inquisitive. "I will attempt to reciprocate," she assures of the whole fall-and-catch thing, her strained smile manifesting again. The movements of the others are noted, observed, and she tries to follow along, but she's clearly not accustomed to dancing by any means, so she's incredibly slow and too-careful about what she does. "I have. But, I suppose it is unimportant."

Anaky nods with a quiet, "Oh," before that light grin breaks out once again, "I guess it's pretty hard to catch, then. Unless somebody went and fell in the lake." He does make a bit of a face for that, though, shaking his head and moving with the dance steps. He slows a little, to match Galina's steps, careful to not stomp on her toes as well as attempting to avoid any mis-placed feet. "You've got a canine?" he lifts his head from foot-watching to grin at her, "Those things are adorable. I'm not allowed to keep any pets, really, but I always wanted one. I've just got three firelizards, though. Grump and Cheer are blue and brown, and Zesty, the green one. Or Zeal.. I haven't gotten around to naming her properly." He thinks a moment before answering the question of collecting things, "I don't really collect anything, though I've got a dragon's weight in clothes, it seems like, sometimes. All the stuff the Hall makes me try on." His face gains the faintest pinkish tinge, "The journeymen are always looking for people to try on their designs." Yep, he's totally a model sometimes. That last bit gets a, "Really?" the boy's brows lifting again, "What happened?"

"Not a living canine, no," Galina clarifies. "It is stuffed, like the firelizard. It was one that I have had since I was a child." There's a funny look on her face for the admission, nostalgia warring with displeasure before resolving into neutrality again. Galina murmurs, "I have never been fond of animals. Most require too much time and care to keep them … but firelizards are acceptable enough. I just have Cyanosis and Redwort. Provided that no greenriders bearing unusual gifts arrive, it will stay with just those two." She regards him for the last, even while she continues to go through the motions with all the grace of a rusted gate's hinge. It's not that she's inherently graceless, but dancing requires a whole other set of skills that she seems to be grievously lacking in. His blushing is met with a lifting of one of her brows. "That suffices as collecting," she determines. "Do you enjoy them? It must be difficult to get dressed on a daily basis, with so many options available," says she of the two-tone wardrobe. For the latter question, there's only a shallow, singular shake of her head as before. "It was a long time ago. Biting was involved." Elaboration doesn't come, though there's a momentary flash of her own teeth as she tries, and mostly succeeds, at offering him a smile.

Anaky 'ohs' with a bit of a laugh, "I guess I wouldn't have thought to name a stuffed animal." He smiles though, "My brothers all have them, but I've got to trravel from the Hall and back pretty often. I'd never have time for one, even if I was allowed to keep one at the Hall." He sighs, ut only slightly, before nodding in agreement, "I like firelizards, more or less. Well, except for the mean ones. My Grump, I almost named him 'Ow! My fingers!' because he bit me so much when he was little." His own dance movements are fairly fluid, though there's the occasional mis-step. Luckily, they are going slow, and when the instructor begins repeating the steps, Anaky's eyes flicker up to his dance partner more often, having mostly gotten the hang of it. Likely, he's familiar with this one already. "I guess it does," his grin faintly sheepish, "Um.. Well, it is nice to look good." His cheeks are coloring rapidly. "It's not really difficult, I mean.. I just wear whatever. As long as it matches." He's so not admitting how long it takes him to pick clothes in the morning. Ahem. That last bit, though, has the boy's brows lifting even higher, "/Biting/?" He very nearly steps on her foot. "That.." Anaky eyes her, clearly surprised, "..sounds like it must have been one heck of a dance."

She has the steps more or less memorized by now, but it's the application of knowledge to physical activity that seems to be most problematic. Galina's easing into it, bit by bit, but she's still about as pliable as a marble statue. "Perhaps someday, when you are posted somewhere, you might be able to acquire a canine," Galina points out with a shallow inclination of her head. There's a slow blink for the relaying of that description and a soft laugh escapes her. "That is like Redwort. He is prone to biting and clawing when he does not want to be handled." With the motions down, she's similarly able to meet his gaze more and more, which means that his blushing just keeps earning him a curious look. "I prefer to dress efficiently," she admits. "It does not make much sense to me to go out of the way to attempt to look nice as well. Clean is sufficient." Pause. "Why are you blushing?" For the last, however, there's just a faint pull at the corner of her mouth and she adds only, "The Harpers refused to attempt to teach me anything beyond the teaching songs after that. At the time, it was satisfactory."

Anaky, at least, doesn't seem to mind slow, the waver lad careful with his steps, even if he's used to this dance. He did promise not to smoosh her feets, after all. There's a grin, and a nod, "Yeah, I want to get one someday. Just hope it doesn't eat my sewing." He makes a bit of a face at the thought of that, shaking his head a little, "I heard from some riders that they'll listen to dragons, but I haven't tested it out yet. I'll bet Grump stays grumpy, the way he goes on sometimes. Especially around food." He nods, "I guess, with all the stuff healers have to deal with, you'd have to dress neatly-" the question on blushing, though, only makes his face color more, "Er, I'm not blushing." He clears his throat. Riight. But he's distracted by.. that last.. part. "/You/ bit someone?" he stares at her. He looks as if he doesn't know whether to be amused or wary, "Dare I ask …Why was there biting?"

"I am sure it should be easy to keep it from eatig your sewing, if you keep it out of reach." Slow and steady memorizes the dance, especially this kind, that seems meant to last on and on and on. Thus far, no feet-stomping has ensued, nor does it seem like it'll be that much of a risk from here on out. Biting, on the other hand … that's another matter entirely. "Lyuba asked Allochkath to assist somewhat with Redwort. It helped, in that he is less destructive than he was. He is still unpleasant, but I prefer it to how he was. It may be worth the attempt, at least." There's a shallow nod for his observation … and then a quirking of her brow. "You are. Your cheeks are quite pink." Hiding something from this Healer? Not bloody likely. It's the last that seems to have her pausing a while, a few more steps into the dance passing before she answers with, "I was young. I did not want to dance, but the Harper insisted that I learn because she deemed it necessary. I told her I did not, but she persisted." Shoulders lift and drop, matter-of-fact. "So, I bit her. It was the only thing I could think to do at the time."

"Mm, I guess so," Anaky agrees, slight grin there, "I kind of tend to leave things lying around." On the floor. Alas, he is a boy, after all. Despite the longish hair, which has slipped out from behind his ear and is getting in his face again. He tosses his head a little, to keep it out of his eyes, and nodding about Redwort. "Is that a rider here?" he asks, looking thoughtful, "I'd ask my brother, but he always goes on about how his dragon scares firelizards wild." From his tone, he likely has doubts about that. Still, his expression remains thoughtful. As for the blushing, it doesn't get any worse at least, the boy looking sheepish, "I guess I must be.." nevermind the why. He clears his throat again, just softly, concenrating on where his feet are going for a moment or two. The story of the biting incident, though, has him looking up again, blinking at Galina, "You.." and then he laughs, "Shells, I guess that beats throwing a tantrum."
His head-tossing is noted and, a moment later, Galina's reaching with the hand that's on his shoulder to try to push that hair back behind his ears. It's done with all the clinical coolness that one might expect from her, of course, even while she explains, "Lyuba is posted to Ierne currently, but she visits here often enough. I can arrange a meeting, if you would like." His lingering blush is considered, though not worth further comment after his agreement. There's just an inclination of her head and silence for a while as they go through a few more steps. His laughter elicits a puzzled expression from her for a moment, his words taking a little while to sink in. And then she's laughing, though the sound is rusty and faded, a thing rarely used. Just a few soft barks of laughter and then, "It probably could have been worse."

Anaky blinks a bit as the hair gets tucked back, laughter interrupted by an, "Uh.. thanks," and that blush gets worse. Pink spreads right across the pale cheeks again, but is soon to fade as he quickly gets back to concentrating on the dance steps, no matter that they're slow and fairly simple. "Nah, it's alright. I was just wondering. I didn't recognize the name. I know a lot of the riders here, since my brother sometimes takes me around to the wing lounges," he flashes a bit of a grin, "Did you know the transport wing has got a mural in their lounge? Somebody actually went to the trouble of painting the dragons on the wall." He looks thoughtful again, asking, "You're posted here from Healer Hall? I came from Telgar, where my mom is. But I've got to study too much to really live here all the time." There's another grin, "I'll bet. You didn't get punished or anything? I know if I'd tried that, my foster mother would have been furious."

His reaction earns a mild, "Interesting." With the task done, her hand drops to his shoulder again, her touch as light as it was before; barely there, really. Galina nods once while he speaks, acknowledging his words without immediately addressing them. "I have not heard that before, but I have little reason to be in the lounges," she admits, her head tilting at a quizzical, birdlike angle. "Is it just the transport wing that has the artwork? Or do all of them have a mural?" Another few steps lead into an answer in the form of, "I am not officially posted here. I travel with my mentor, so where he goes, I go. We were supposed to go to the Telgar region a few months ago, but the weather and his tendency to get injured impeded that." Her mouth pulls a little to a side. "I am from Ogren, originally. It is further north than High Reaches Weyr — but, the Healer Hall has been home for me since I was twelve, more or less." His grin is echoed with a fainter one of her own, lopsided and short-lived. "I was punished. But there was little they could do about it, after the fact. She still has the scar, or so I have been told."

That 'interestng' has Anaky blinking at her, opening his mouth as if to ask, but then just deciding to close it again. His own hands are relaxed, as is his posture still, minus the vaguely sheepish tilt to his shoulders. "I think only the transport wing commissioned a mural. One of their riders is a pretty good artist. The other lounges are kind of bare, besides the tapestries with the wing badges. Simurgh is really, really green," added with a chuckle, "I don't know if any of the other lounges are getting renovated, but I got to help with some of the tapestries for Roc." He pauses after a second, tacking on, "Well, mostly I got to cut thread, but I still helped." He looks mildly surprised for her answer about her posting, "Oh? What happened to him?" He tilts his head a bit, "You're holdbred, then? It's weird, living in a crafthall, after being in a weyr. I still can't get used to some of it. How's Fort compare to back home for you?" As for the scar, Anaky winces in sympathy, "Ouch. I hope I never do anything to make you mad enough to bite me," said lightly, with even a little something of a laugh.

"I see," says she, her mouth drawn slightly to a side. "The others should have something beyond just the tapestries," is her final determination, although it's allowed to go at that with a faint pursing of her lips in thought. "That is helping," she concurs a moment later. "Perhaps, someday, you will be the one to make the new tapestries for that wing. Or the other wings, for that matter." While Galina's never really relaxed, she's far less rigid about things now than she was not all that long ago. Whether it's a growing familiarity with the dance or simply the act of conversation, it's hard to say. "Yes," answers his next question. "It is … different and it is a slow process to acclimate. I prefer Fort to Ista, however. I was briefly posted there and it … was not pleasant." Nor does it seem that's something she'll venture into, as she moves onto her mentor with, "My mentor has a knee injury that flares up frequently. He refuses to use a cane or listen to the other Healers, so it never has a chance to properly heal." Her grip on his hand shifts a little while she muses, "I doubt you could make me biting-angry." But, the assurance is a wry one, paired with a slight shake of her head.

Anaky bobs his head in agreement, "Yeah, I guess the riders are the ones who decorate their lounges. Search and rescue has the worst one though. They've got nothing besides the one tapestry with a wing badge." He thinks a moment, nodding, "I'd like to," about making tapestries, "Though it'll probably be turns before I can do anything close to that," glancing down at the embroidery on his sleeve. "It's a different kind of weavercraft," he notes, before chuckling, "What I really want to do is make clothing, like what I'm wearing. I didn't sew all this, I just decorated it, but someday I'll know how to design everything." There's a quirked brow about Ista, the lad quirking an eyebrow before commenting, "I've only been there a couple of times." He then tilts his head, "Your mentor is a jounrneyman healer, right? That's a little bit odd, if he keeps hurting himself, he should know better, shouldn't he?" But he's chuckling lightly, "I certainly hope I can't. Though if you did, I might have to bite you back," that last part said in a faintly teasing tone.

"Interesting," is intoned again, this time at the explanation. "It would stand to reason that the craftrider's wing would be the most decorated, in such a case." Idle observation, that, with Galina flicking a look to his embroidery when he looks. "I can imagine that. It seems to be as different from embroidery and clothing-making as mindhealing differs from obstetrics or surgery," she muses. "It cannot be too difficult to design and construct clothing, can it?" Her head maintains that quizzical, birdlike tilt to it, though it cants the other way this time. Ista is glossed over with a nod, wryness emerging for her mentor with, "He knows better. But he feels that if he asks for help, he is somehow less of a Healer for it. He is, above all else, prideful of doing things on his own." Much as she can be, perhaps. Her tone is understanding, rather than chastising. But it's the last bit that has both of her brows lifting and, then, another unexpected laugh escapes her and a faint wash of pink spreads across her cheeks. "I do not think that would be wise to threaten, even as a conditional."

"Hm, yeah. That is a little odd. It's just very green right now. I guess… most riders don't have time, or they haven't gotten around to it," the lad shrugging lightly, "Or my brother's just really into decorating," that getting a rather amused snicker out of him. Anaky nods about the different areas of the crafts, "Yeah, though I'd like to learn someday. At least.. how it's done, even if I wasn't any good at it." He ponders her question on difficulty for a few moments, "It depends on the clothes, I think. It's easy enough to follow a pattern, but making new patterns and guessing how the material is going to fall, or what kinds of stitches to use.. that can be hard." He chuckles, "Or maybe I'm just really new at this. I tried harpering before I apprenticed as a weaver, so I'm a it behind everybody else in my classes." Another nod is given when she explains her mentor, Anaky saying, "I guess it's hard to ask for help sometimes," the boy chewing his lip momentarily before his mouth tilts upwards at the edges, expression almost mischievous. "Oh? Not all bites leave scars, you know." He says that so innocently, too.

"Perhaps so. B'ky seems to care very much about his wing, in the few interactions that I have had with him." Galina falls silent for a while, just listening while he speaks and only periodically needing to adjust her grip on his hand or alter her foot placement. A few other people flub their steps and the dance is started anew, the music itself being a constant, if low, presence. "Learning is the most important thing anyone can do," she murmurs after a long moment. "Perhaps you will be better at it than you think. You are new," she confirms, "but that just means you have many more possibilities open to you and fewer old habits to break." There's a slight nod of understanding for his description of the art of clothing-making, some murmured noise of assent, and then a slow quirk of a brow for his mention of harpering. "Why did you leave harpering?" she wants to know, though the question is simply posed as a query, nothing more. "Sometimes, it can be," is her addition, mouth quirking a little to a side. "Asking for help is not natural to everyone." Of course … he's a terrible, terrible person for the biting comment, which is only matched by the mirrored chewing on her lower lip. "No. No, they do not," she agrees, her tone being deceptively nonplussed. "But they inevitably involve trouble."

Anaky's expression remains touched, just a bit, by that hint of mischief. There's a quiet snort, "He's obsessed with it sometimes," the boy stifling a chuckle in favor of saying, "You're really getting the hang of this," and grinning at Galina. He checks his footing when the dance restarts, glancing briefly at the instructor before slipping back into the rhythm, though he maintains the slower pace. "I hope so," he smiles, almsot suddenly shy, about being better, and then noting a little sheepishly, "I've already got a few bad habits. But I guess that's true." He grows quiet for a little while, when she asks about the harpering, the boy eventually giving a slight shrug, "I wasn't really suited to it. I mean.. I could sing alright, but my voice was still changing. And.. I never really liked having to practice the same thing over and over. I wanted to make things I could see. Music.." another shrug, "It wasn't for me." There might be more too it, especially given the way he avoids looking anywhere but his feet as he speaks, but Anaky is soon saying, "Yeah, a lot of people are afraid of looking dumb when they do," on the suject of asking for help. And yes, Anaky is a terrble, terrible person, and goes right back to grinning at that last part, lips quirking up on one side, "Not always."

Naturally, the Healer doesn't seem inclined to /look/ mischevious, but there's definitely a faint hint of playful amusement in her gaze if not directly in her expression. Galina offers a thin ghost of a smile to him and inclines her head, giving his hand a little bit of a squeeze. "I learn quickly. It is one of the few saving graces I have, or so Lyuba tells me." Her tone is mild, if serious. Not joking in the slightest, even if it may well be exactly what the older greenrider's told her a hundred times before in jest. His sheepishness and the eventual lowering of his head to study his feet earn a puzzled look from her, but she, in a rare fit of empathy, doesn't ask. Rather, she intones, "It is good, then, that you have found a craft that suits you. Some people never find what they are supposed to do." She tries on a smile and nods again to his words about asking for help, but her next words are directly for his mention of 'not always': "You are incorrigible." And it doesn't sound like it's a totally bad thing, either.

Anaky's own gaze is far from serious, the faint hint of mirth beneath the mischief evident in his features. Galina's ghost of a smile is returned with one of his own, the hand-squeezing earning one in return as well, "More than I few, I imagine," though he hardly knows her well enough to comment further. Instead, the boy nods, "I guess I might have gotten lucky, there. I saw some of K'ley's designs, and wanted to do something like that. Hopefully, I'll be good enough to be able to make journeyman in a few turns, and catch up with the rest of the apprentices." He titls his head at Galina, asking, "What aout you? What made you want to e a healer?" He laughs lightly, agreeing with another, almost playful grin, "I am," and then giving her wink. He might have slipped into cheesy there, for a moment, but he does protest with another soft laugh, "You're the one that started it." With the story of biting and everything. Cough.

And she's just as willing to let it go without further protestation. There is a slightly troubled crease between her brows, but that smooths out quickly enough into neutrality again. "If you are dedicated," Galina replies, "then you should have nothing to worry about at all. Provided you do not incur the wrath of your CraftMaster." Sardonic humor, there. She cants a look over to where Redwort is being all kinds of cranky, wings mantled and hissing at anyone that so much looks at her satchel askance … and then she's looking back to Anaky with a slow blink. "I did not have much of a choice at the time. I was raised to fix things, in a sense … Lyuba ultimately brought me to the Hall. She tells me it was quite a fight to convince the head cook at Ogren that I should be a healer rather than a baker." Curiouser and curiouser … but there's no elaboration on the how, with just a mild, "I enjoy the work. It will be better when I can practice surgery, rather than assist." There's a slight, almost defiant, lift of her head for his latter words. Challenging, almost. "I did not. I was answering questions you had asked. If you did not want to know the answer, you should not have posed the question." So, there! Take /that/ logic! And while her tone might be deadpan, there's a far, far too amused gleam in her eyes for it.

Anaky tilts his head, eyeing her curiously for a moment, but then thin eyebrows go up a bit, "The craftsmaster? I don't know how I'd manage that," he laughs a little, "but I'd certainly /hope/ I don't incur anyone's wrath, craftsmaster or otherwise." And there's a faintly amused grin, "The only time I've ever gotten anyone mad at me, was when I they lacked a sense of humor." His grin grows a little lopsided for a moment as he shrugs, but it vanishes soon enough, to be replaced by a vaguely baffled expression. "You didn't have a choice?" He tilts his head, regarding the girl, brows drawing close, "Instead of a baker? Did you want to be a cook instead?" perhaps misunderstanding her there. "Well, I guess as long as you enjoy it," he murmurs, "I can't imagine being forced into a craft though." He catches his bottom lip etween his teeth for a second or two, thoughtful almost. As for who started it.. Anaky can't help it, he laughs lightly, "Alright.. maybe I did," giving his head a little toss, voice teasing once again, "but I ought to bite your nose, just on principle." Now he's pushing it, really. At least he makes no move to do so, instead shaking his head, "If I knew you better, I would, too." Or maybe he wouldn't; he could be totally bluffing, given his joking tone.

"Be fortunate that you are not a healer, then," she replies, faint humor tugging at the corners of her mouth. But, elaboration does not come and, instead, she simply leaves it at that. Galina intones, "It was not so bad. I was taught some healing beforehand and I like it well enough. I would have been happy with either craft but, sometimes, I think I enjoy fixing things more than I would have enjoyed cooking all of the time." Shoulders lift and drop in a shallow shrug with an added, "But I still enjoy cooking when I have occasion to." There's a playful wrinkle of her nose for his suggestion, though she, likewise, makes no move to pull away or flash teeth at him. "We can move a little faster, now." The tap to his shoulder should suffice for context; it's all about the dancing. But then that hand is lifting and threatening to touch touch the tip of his nose with a finger. "I doubt you would," is a matter-of-fact statement of opinion. "Otherwise, you would have done so, regardless."

"Oh?" thin brows lift briefly, though that seems to be his only response to that, tilting his head a little more to listen as she explains about her craft. "Well, that's good that you enjoy it," he begins, smiling a little, "What kinds of things do you cook? Anything sweet?" And if there's a sudden bit of hopefulness in his face, well, he /is/ related to a certain cookie-snatching wingleader. Cough. He eyes her nose, too, almost consideringly, though his gaze quickly flicks downward with a nod, steps moving a little faster, although the boy is careful to check where she's stepping. It wouldn't do to start the foot-stompage now, when they've been doing so well, after all. As for her doubt, Anaky's eyebrows rise again, "Oh, do you?" eyes nearly crossing as he tries to focus on her finger next. He doesn't move his head back at all, his features instead turning mischievous once again, "Maybe I just don't know if I'm going to get slapped," ecause the last girl he tried that on totally did that, and here his gaze goes to her face, meeting hers if she doesn't look away, a bit of a challenge there, "or get a scar." She's apparently a fearsome biter, after all!

"I memorized the cookbooks at Ogren," she begins, speaking only after the pace is increased and she's found her footing again. It's just a quicker repetition of the same steps of before and, with that all memorized, she seems to be doing a fine job of keeping up. "Though my favorite things to make are pastries of various sorts. B'ky helped me make raspberry thumbprints once," is likely given to corroborate her story, more than anything. The finger is finally lowered, her hand returning to his shoulder with a musing, "If you do not follow through with a threat, it ceases to have any weight and then you will not be taken seriously at all when you make the threat again. Otherwise, you are the boy that called 'feral feline'." Ah, a fine children's story, that. The boy that called cat, rather than wolf. There's a thin smile, ghost-pale, that flits across her face. "I will not slap you," is a promise of a sort, "but I cannot promise that you will not get a scar. This time, perhaps not, but another time-" she leaves that to trail, her literal nature manifesting plainly.

Anaky looks rather impressed there, "You must really like cooking," grin growing wider, "Pastries, huh? I'll bet Bev loved that. He's kind of obsessed with cookies, almost as much as with all his paperwork." That might be an unfair comparison, but only just. The boy has to look down a time or two, to make sure his feet are following the correct steps, but he manages not to misstep, even with the slightly faster pace. "If you ever need a hand with making something, I'd be happy to help out," is offered, innocently. But there's further mischief to be had, brow quirking upward as he its his bottom lip, "I guess I'm a feral feline then," likely deliberately misunderstanding, though amusement tugs at his features. And, well, after /that/, he has to make good on his threat, doesn't he? Without missing a step, he suddenly leans closer, "Might be worth chancing it then," eyelids lowering just a tad, but that doesn't hide the mischief in his gaze. And he promptly attempts a peck on the nose, complete with very gently nippy teeth, provided of course, that she doesn't pull away.

"I recall he was distraught over the fact that I did not wear my knot at the time. I am not sure if he enjoyed it or not," but she doesn't seem fussed over not knowing; it doesn't matter to her, in the end. There's a flicked look down from time to time, but less to check her feet and more to ensure his placement. "I will be sure to ask you next time. Perhaps in a few days." Likely when Galina has her restday … assuming she gets those, that is. "That is not what I meant," she remarks when he does misunderstand, her brow quirking just a little. But while she might comment further, it's too late; he's leaning in and that nose-tip nibble lands. She tastes like vanilla — blame the lotion — and her nose wrinkles just a little, albeit good-naturedly, when he pulls back. While she made no promises beyond 'not slapping', she is a firm believer in reciprocation — when the nose-nip ends, she's leaning in to attempt to return the favor, such as it is, if with a bit more teeth. It's not painful, though, and chased with a second, ultra-quick kiss that's more in the vein of a mother kissing a booboo than anything else — all provided that the lad doesn't jerk his head out of the way. "Was it worth it?" is queried blandly when all's said and done, both of her brows lifting with patent inquisitiveness.

Anaky doesn't jerk his head back, though he peraps looks a bit surprised when he actually recieves a nose-nip in return. His steps in the dance do not falter, however, the boy only slowing a tad. It takes just a moment for him to resume the faster steps, without his gaze flicking down again. He also appears just a little startled that the girl has an actual flavor, but he isn't about to lick her to check, even if he does run his tongue over his teeth once or twice and blink at her. His own nose wrinkles faintly, the boy looking momentarily baffled at her question there, before his features resolve themselves into an expression of innocence, "Worth what?" Anaky attempts to look veery thoughtful, even throwing in a teasing, "Hrmm," before he laughs, the sound light, "Well, I didn't get slapped, or get a scar. Or call feral feline," the edges of his mouth tugged upward, "So, I guess so. Maybe next time.. I'll try something else." Because threatening biteyness was so terribly terrible. He straightens at least, so he isn't in her face, as there's still dancing to do. "I'd say this is better than studying," head tilting to the side to let that over-long bit of hair fall over his forehead again, "More fun, anyway, at least?"

And, for Galina, it doesn't appear that anything has happened at all. There's no smile, just her usual impassivity, down to her slow manner of blinking at him. The only betrayal is a faint smear of pink across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. But, nope, no giggling or giddy grinning here, just an abstract sense of satisfaction at some hypothesis having been proven or disproven. By now, she's comfortable enough in the dance to not need to look down any more, simply trusting that he's not going to tromple her feet. "I will consider that a noncommittal answer," she muses cryptically and simply sets her focus on the dance at hand for a few more steps before speaking again. Ah, but there goes that hair again and, it seems, she has difficulty just letting that kind of thing slide. Then again, she's the one with her hair forever in braids and buns. The hand at his shoulder lifts to brush the hair back behind his ear if he's permissive of it, her tone mild as she answers, "It is better than I anticipated. Fun is a good word for it." There's a pause of a lingering, brain-gear-grinding sort as she digs for something else to say and, finally, comes up with a slow, soft smile and a low-murmured, "Thank you."

Anaky's own cheeks remain pale, but give the boy a moment, he's still looking faintly surprised. Healer-girl has a flavor! Ahem. He does quirk a brow at her continued impassivity, though his lips twitch into a brief smirk when he notes the color in her face. It doesn't last, even if the mirth remains in his eyes, Anaky protesting with a grin, "It's still an answer." He regards her thoughtfully, though the hair-brushing earns another blink. And an almost-shy, "Uh, thanks," for it. And there go his cheeks, properly pinkifying, if a bit belatedly. Or maybe it's just the hair that sets it off? In any case, the lad smiles, looking genuinely pleased then, "Good," giving Galina a grin.

"It is an answer, yes. But not enough of one to satisfy my curiosity," she replies. The dance finally winds down to a stop, more at Galya's urging than anything else; it's easy to stop a dance when a gal stops dancing, after all. "Interesting," is intoned as before, with Galina peering at his face. Her hand remains close, however, close enough to brush cool fingertips across his cheek if he's not quick to move. "You blush when I touch your hair, and yet-" she trails, lips pursing thoughtfully. There is no warning for what happens next, not a hint of her intentions laid out until she's leaning forward. Her goal is simple — just a quick, closed-mouth kiss aimed to land squarely on his mouth — but still potentially flawed in that he's very able to step away from it. In either case, her hands fall away to hang at her sides, a slow, owlish blink spared for him. "I need to return to my studies," is summarily intoned, unhurried and dull.

Anaky can't help but give a bit of a cheeky grin, at that reply of hers, "Mm, maybe you're asking the wrong questions?" He quirks his brow, though there's a momentary flicker of confusion for that 'interesting'. As she stops, so does he, the boy blinking at her, "What-" and then he's getting /kissed/. Nevermind that it's quick, he goes quite properly pink in the face. The comment on blushing could have helped there too. Ahem. Letting his hands drop away, he looks flustered for a second, clearing his throat softly before nodding and offering her another grin, "Uh.. thanks for the dance." And he might eye the girl curiously, for a little bit there.

"I asked the question I wanted an answer to, your answer just wasn't satisfying. The rest, however, was quite satisfactory." Deadpan, every word of it. His blushing is summarily noted, echoed somewhat in her face; it can't be helped, though the glinting in her eyes is pure amusement, contrasting the otherwise dull expression on her face. But, by the time he's offering his thanks, Galya's turning away and walking back to her bag, as if she hadn't just kissed a poor stranger for no apparent reason. "Thank you, as well," is called over her shoulder … and, soon enough, she's gathering her things and departing, all without looking back.

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