18.May.18, 08:08 PM
Mylorah pouted when Siroll confessed to not knowing her name. She thought everyone knew her. Wow, that sounded conceded even to her and she had only thought it. It wasn’t that she thought she was the best thing ever and everyone should automatically know her, but she liked making friends and at least learning everyone’s name and maybe even something they liked so they could have a conversation. She did know he was a hard nut to crack so it made sense he didn’t know her that well and it wasn’t like they really spent a lot of time together, so she didn’t feel as overlooked.
But then his words sank in and Mylorah couldn’t help but laugh at being called a lady. “Lady? Not by a long shot, darlin’; I’m weyrbred. My dad’s a bluerider and I’d likely embarrass all of Ista Hold,” she waved to what she was wearing as the first indicator of why she wasn’t a lady. At least, she didn’t think the fashion had suddenly shifted to a dress that touched her knees, was low cut, and of a flimsy material to help keep her cool in the heat.
“Oh, and my name’s Mylorah,” she’d almost forgot to introduce herself even after his prettily worded way of asking for it. She smiled brightly, deciding she really wasn’t offended or upset over him not knowing who she was. Honestly, there were so many Candidates from the other Weyrs in Ista for the upcoming Hatching that she knew she didn’t know them all yet either.
“I worked in laundry all morning and finished just after midday meal,” she realised she was answering Siroll backwards and grinned at her randomness. She liked to think of it as an endearing quirk but knew a lot of people just saw it as ditzy or scatter-brained. The bit of ribbon that had been wrapped around her wrist was suddenly tugged free and Mylorah made quick work of pulling her hair back in a low pony tail before putting her hands on her waist. “And it looks to me like you could use an extra set of hands to make sure you get to dinner before all the good stuff is gone. I heard the dessert tonight is amazing. So what can I do to help?”
But then his words sank in and Mylorah couldn’t help but laugh at being called a lady. “Lady? Not by a long shot, darlin’; I’m weyrbred. My dad’s a bluerider and I’d likely embarrass all of Ista Hold,” she waved to what she was wearing as the first indicator of why she wasn’t a lady. At least, she didn’t think the fashion had suddenly shifted to a dress that touched her knees, was low cut, and of a flimsy material to help keep her cool in the heat.
“Oh, and my name’s Mylorah,” she’d almost forgot to introduce herself even after his prettily worded way of asking for it. She smiled brightly, deciding she really wasn’t offended or upset over him not knowing who she was. Honestly, there were so many Candidates from the other Weyrs in Ista for the upcoming Hatching that she knew she didn’t know them all yet either.
“I worked in laundry all morning and finished just after midday meal,” she realised she was answering Siroll backwards and grinned at her randomness. She liked to think of it as an endearing quirk but knew a lot of people just saw it as ditzy or scatter-brained. The bit of ribbon that had been wrapped around her wrist was suddenly tugged free and Mylorah made quick work of pulling her hair back in a low pony tail before putting her hands on her waist. “And it looks to me like you could use an extra set of hands to make sure you get to dinner before all the good stuff is gone. I heard the dessert tonight is amazing. So what can I do to help?”