Leakage [May Chores - OPEN]

[Shiny]

Fingers rubbing the bags under his eyes, J'ash picked up the pen again and slowly cracked open his eyes to glare at the page below. Half of it was re-inked, but the rest still remained faded. What a long day... He wasn't all that tired, but the heat and boredom was getting to him. Plus, having to squint to figure out each letter was not helping.

Why did they have to invent record-keeping as a chore? WHY? You could have chosen from other things, Craivaruth chimed in. He was right, though. J'ash did re-inking because he'd done it before, so it wasn't like he had to learn anything new.

Whizzing above his head, Vomit screeched to make his presence known. The brown firelizard had been asleep inside J'ash's shirt for the duration of the chore, but now he was fully recharged and ready to cause havoc. J'ash knew at some point he would regret bringing his flit into the records room, but didn't have the heart to leave him behind or send him elsewhere.

Putting the newly revamped book into its proper place, he reached down to take some unreadable parchments off the growing pile he had next to his chair. He felt a quick breeze against his face as Vomit dove down at the desk.

The ink bowl went flying off the desk and onto the floor, breaking on contact. "Aaah!" Springing from his chair, eyes wide, J'ash scrambled to pick up the pile of documents on the floor. Some of them had gotten splattered with ink. Vomit was partially coated in it, and continued to roll in the mess he'd made. As the black puddle continued to expand on the floor, J'ash frantically looked around for something to wipe up the mess with. There wasn't much space on the desk for the load he had in his arms, and if he put it down, the ink would damage it even more. "Argh! Vomit!" he shouted, and the brown firelizard betweened, leaving J'ash all alone to suffer.

[Ruby]

"Out!" T'mund snapped, rounding the stack of books to confront the older, taller, more senior Weyrling without even a second thought. "I am aware that the Archivists have requested that some percentage of the people who need to complete Chores work in the Archives, but I will NOT have more work created for me simply because you are incompetent. No, OUT, before I make you clean it up and fix everything you just damaged before you leave today!"

The crash and sudden shouting had brought the whole room to life, people buzzing and whispering in every corner. The head archivist came up to T'mund with a deferential nod, leaning over to whisper in his ear. With an unpleasant grimace, T'mund stretched up to return the whisper with something much nastier sounding. Really, J'ash was lucky Jagjith was awake, and paying attention from outside, where he was lounging by the river. Is this how you would treat a wingmember who had made a mistake, T'mundmine? Perhaps I chose the wrong rider, after all. Losing your temper is, as you explained to me, no way to handle this sort of situation. Remember: we are always training.

With a decisive nod, apparently at nothing, T'mund waved the archivist away, and planted his fists on his hips. "Alright," he continued in a much calmer voice, "I have been informed that I can not throw you out until you have completed the work you were assigned today, but I will have you start by cleaning that mess up now. Here is a rag," yes, T'mund carried several rags on his person for just such a situation, and tossed one at J'ash now, "And you can find a solution to remove the ink from the flagstones behind the main desk."

Better? he asked Jagjith, mind-voice anxious. T'mund basically wanted to be his dragon, and therefore wanted to please Jagjith as much as he could. The brown considered for a moment, then sent along a confident Yes. Not perfect, but yes, better. T'mund sighed, and added "Oh, and of course you will be back tomorrow to clean up those records. I will get you some putty to hold the ink bottle to the desk," before turning away, heading for the supply of ink the Archivists kept in a closet.

[Shiny]

He could feel anger bubble up inside him at the fact that someone far younger than him was yelling at him and ordering him around, but Craivaruth's calmness countered it. Craivaruth talked to him as the junior weyrlingrider seemed to finish a conversation with thin air. Just ignore his rudeness and complete the chore. There's no need to lose your head. It will just make things worse.[/i] No matter how angry he was, Craivaruth was right.

J'ash's mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, a slight flush stealing over his face as this - this... baby weyrling stalked past him. Shocked, he watched the kid disappear before realizing the load still in his arms. "Ah, you couldn't have helped me with this first?!" He called, but not very loudly - better to not draw any more attention to himself. The rag that had been thrown on him had miraculously landed on top of the documents in his arms. That was pretty useless; he couldn't even pick it up, because his hands were full.

Glancing around quickly to make sure he wasn't being watched, his face turned a deeper shade of red as he bent his head forwards. Opening his mouth, he missed a few times before managing to bite a dog-eared corner of the cloth. Pulling his head back and to the side, he dropped the cloth onto the black puddle of ink, nearly losing his balance as he stretched out a leg. Placing his foot on the cloth, he began to move it in circles, ink splashing onto his shoes.

If anyone were to look now, they would see a human with a tomato for a head (or at least, a face). How embarrassing... "This wasn't even my fault," he grumbled, "stupid Vomit... Last time I ever bring that so-called loyal flit in here..." He hoped Ilea, the darter he purchased at the last Gather, would do that extremely loud beep-call of hers in Vomit's ear. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

Fuzzy feelings of apologies and love appeared in his mind. "Oh, stuff it," he absently muttered aloud, half-heartedly accepting what Vomit expressed mentally.

[Ruby]

T'mund heard J'ash's angry question as he rounded the stack, but with Jagjith's approval decided to let it go. People would never learn from their mistakes if you coddled them too much, but he could help J'ash out a little bit. He grabbed a fresh inkpot, some malleable putty, and a jar of floor solution and headed back, catching a red-faced J'ash balancing awkwardly and talking to himself. T'mund didn't have much of a sense of humor, and Jagjith had none, but something about this scene caught him off-guard, and the Brownweyrling had to smother a smile.

He managed to get the supplies he'd brought onto the table before Carenath popped in, landing on J'ash's head with a questioning chirp and starting to violently chew his hair. T'mund couldn't help it - he dissolved into laughter, but not the malicious kind. Feeling suddenly helpful, he reached out for J'ash's pile, taking the top half of the ink-soaked books out of the other Weyrling's arms while his eyes teared up. "I am sorry... Carenath thinks you are trying to hurt the books. I - I am not laughing at you, I promise. I am just - " moment to catch his breath " - tired, I guess. And you looked so embarrassed." T'mund was 100% sure he'd never managed to embarrass anyone before, not like this, anyway. Jagjith drew himself up with a sniff, contributing an annoyed Get yourself under control, T'mundMine. You are embarrassing me.

With an effort, the Brownweyrling got himself under control, taking the rest of J'ash's stack before he dropped to the floor with a rag and the floor cleaner. "I am sorry I shouted," he added, fighting off the last snickers. "I simply love books, and hate to see them damaged. These look like they will be alright, though." Carenath had left off J'ash's hair when T'mund apologized, fluttering over to his owner's shoulder with an extremely miffed cheep. If only he'd been here, he could have protected the books.