What makes you {Jan Chores/Open}

[midnight]

Meagen was calmer then she had been in awhile. Peace was over her, and she didn't feel that it would leave. She had found her place, whether it was as a woman to him or a sister. She didn't care anymore, losing Mik was too important. Which meant, until she knew exactly how he felt, despite anything he might say... She needed to focus on opening herself up.

She needed to stop hiding, and starting with her chores was a good way. Her hair had been brushed through with that special oil a healer had given her. It tamed her hair and made it easy to turn it into a slick braid. Some hair still floofed around her features, making her look like a dandelion with a tail, but it was still much more tame then it ever had been.

Her face wasn't hidden, and her eyes stared ahead hard. She would get thiss done, she would do this. She had to stop hiding.

She was on General Kitchen duties, and stuff like this. Which meant she had to serve people, and do dishes and such. Currently she was waiting for something to do to come up.

[Tashe]

By now the kitchen staff knew exactly who he was, ever since his grand entrance with Rishin a few months ago. He had been on kitchen chores ever since, and he was beginning to think that the head kitchen lady had been talking to Emoyan about keeping him permanently assigned to the kitchen. He did make a good batch of fruit filling for pies, though he supposed that didn't help at all. Eliah didn't know whether she liked him, or was still punishing him for dumping the flour everywhere. The cook was a very hard woman to figure out. Either way, here he was once again, chopping tubers and roots for the different soups that were being prepared for tonights dinner. Was it just him, or was the mountain of things waiting to be chopped getting bigger despite his efforts? He was good at cutting and slicing, his skills with a knife stemming from his previous Craft, most importantly he was fast. But the mountain was creeping ever higher. The cooks were out to get him again, in the nicest way possible. They liked to tease him, or purposely confuse him so that they could have a good laugh. Not that it was malicious in anyway, it was just annoying sometimes.

Putting down the knife and drying his hands off on the apron that hung from his neck, the Candidate scanned the room before locating someone who didn't look like they were doing anything. Scurrying over, and dodging various people who seemed to randomly appear, Eliah quickly found his way over to her elbow. He'd seen her before in passing, in the candidate barracks. She had to be Meagan, since her name had been listed under his on the chores list. "Here... come with me." He paused. "If the Head Cook sees you not working, she'll assign you to the most boring task." Beckoning, he quickly left her side to weave his way back over to his cutting station. As soon as he got there, Eliah set back to work. Peeling and copping before dumping the slices into a large pot.

[Requiem]

Daily stop for food. Yes, yes. He had a little time to help out still – he would have felt bad if he just stopped helping the drudges entirely – but now he was going to be ghosting around with R’wign in the afternoons. The healer had finally convinced him that it was worth the stenches and the possibility of a Savitri. Although M’ta wasn’t someone people would call a social entity, the short brownrider had befriended the majority of the drudges over five and a half turns ago now, and it was obvious as he swept in, chatting up the older of the drudges amiably and smiling at the younger ones.

“I promise. The one toward the back? Middle, right. No, I’m sure it’s nothing that a few minutes won’t cure. Tables love to wobble. Not a problem at all…the Weyrhealer can wait on his food a few minutes, I promise.” And back out he swept, into the dining hall to get that annoying table back into submission before the people who preferred an early lunch started trickling in. Proved to be a loose screw, though, and he called back to the kitchens, “Someone fetch the tools I keep in the larder, if you don’t mind?” He squirmed further under the table, having worked it loose enough in his inspection that it was likely to topple if he didn’t hold it up.

Likely to need an extra pair of hands on this one. Or two or three.