I'm Dancing! (GIII Chores olol)

[wirevix]

Okay, so maybe mopping the floors of the hall wasn't exactly what Trulurve had in mind as his first real task inside a Weyr. But that was okay! The place needed cleaned anyway, what with people always going in and out and carting food through and the like. He was still helping out, for sure.

And besides, he knew how to amuse himself even doing mundane tasks like cleaning up. He'd done enough of them at home to know how best he could complete his assigned duty and have fun at the same time.

And for something like a mop or a broom, there was one surefire way to keep himself entertained while he worked, and that was dancing. Trulurve really wasn't any good at dancing. He didn't even bother trying to figure out where he was putting his feet and when, or how he moved this way or that. He just hummed some little tune to himself and swung around the broom in time, trotting here and there. Of course that meant he missed spots, but he went over them again before long, covering the entire place even if it was a little bit slower.

His humming got louder as he got more enthusiastic about his own little dance, until he was making up words--mostly things like "Fruit cha cha, dunno what that is cha cha" as he mopped up various marks and splats on the floor.

He didn't care in the least if he was perhaps being watched, he didn't see anything to be embarrassed about. He was just keeping himself entertained so his job wasn't boring, nothing wrong with that! Nevermind that his preferred brand of entertainment was a little loud, and he didn't always look before swinging around in a new direction.

[Avu]

Trilesn was in his element. The kitchen was where he knew what he was doing, for once - he knew he was actually good at something for a change. Gone was the uncertainty with which he had been slinking, silent, speedy, and barefoot, around the Weyr; gone was the shy, quiet, inobtrusive boy that barely passed for eleven Turns, let alone his full fifteen - replaced by this version of Trilesn. Still quiet, but now radiating a quiet kind of confidence. Drudges and other people no longer jostled into him; they parted around him like the river around a rock. Not that many people really came by where Trilesn was working anyways, as he was tucked in a lovely warm corner, peeling tubers. Fifty three...he dropped the tuber, reaching for a new one. His speed at peeling tubers was something he was perversely proud of. Yes, it spoke of the life of a Drudge, but it was one thing he was good at - and there weren't many of those. Fifty four...Trilesn gnawed absently at a clean, raw tuber, his speed unhampered by the thick curls falling over wide gray eyes. Fifty five...he dropped the tuber into the huge pot in front of his knobby knees, reaching for the last one, his knife flashing. Fifty six. And he was done.

The boy raised his head, pride flashing through his eyes as a grin spread across his face. Chores, yes - perhaps a burden to most Candidates, but to him? They were an escape. Something he knew he was clever at, good at - he loved it. Absolutely loved it. No longer did he have to wander around, hoping people would pity him and direct him around - now he knew. He knew how to peel tubers and sweep floors, he knew how to serve Riders and act polite and act like an excessively loyal canine - he knew all of those things, didn't need anyone to tell him - and he loved the feeling. It was a feeling Trilesn didn't often feel, and the joy that the feeling brought was written clearly upon his thin, rather bedraggled face. Okay, he was done - what next? Surely there were more chores that needed doing? He wouldn't be rejected from doing chores, surely? Yes, it was a huge difference from the usual moaning and groaning, but it was a good difference. In the kitchens, at task, Trilesn knew he was happiest. Perhaps it didn't show on his emotionless features, but the joy was there.

Now. Headwoman, where aaaare you? Trilesn absently slid the knife he was peeling tubers with into the sink and hitched the bowl of tubers onto his hip, balancing them until he could slide them onto a counter, whereupon a woman dumped them unceremoniously into a pot. The Candidate managed a slightly uneasy grin at her. "Do you know where the Headwoman is? I need a new task," he said softly. The woman shrugged, gesturing at another Candidate. "Go help him!" she shouted, and then turned back to her pot. Trilesn blinked and then trotted towards the boy, managing a nervous smile as he reached him. He was aware, as always, of how odd he must look: The white Candidates' robes he'd worn only to stick out among the Drudges, since he could pass easily for one, nearly sweeping the floor, his minute form swamped among the cloth that was far too large for him, barefoot so as not to trip over ridiculously large sandals, hair in thick curls any female would die for falling around the back of his neck and into huge gray eyes - all in all, not your average Candidate.

"Hey," he offered quietly, his gaze wandering from Candidate to floor. "I'm Trilesn, a Candidate for Millieth's clutch." He supposed they all were, but it seemed best to establish himself on equal grounding instead of letting them assume he was a Drudge that had stolen Candidates' robes or something (he guessed most robes usually fit the wearer). "I was told to join you...um, where'd you get the mop, please? I didn't see them around," Trilesn admitted wryly, pushing his curls out of his eyes. They fell back in almost immediately, but the tiny boy was past noticing.

[wirevix]

If Trulurve saw anything out of the ordinary about Trilesn, he didn't show it, reacting to him the same way he reacted to anyone--with a bright, happy-go-lucky smile and a cheery wave.

"Hi Trilesn," he said with a nod. "I'm Trulurve. I'm a Candidate too." And that was just so exciting to be able to say! That he was really a Candidate, and soon, he would be a Weyrling, and then--well, he didn't want to get too far ahead of himself.

"I got... the mop... ummn..." He gestured off back behind him somewhere, "some little side-closet with cleaning things. I think there was another one. Weren't you on kitchen duty though?" He offered him a grin as he scrubbed at a muddy shoeprint on the floor.

"Anyway, I'm certainly not gonna complain if you wanna help. I don't think anyone would be really upset if you were doing other chores, I mean, it's still chores right?"

[Avu]

Trilesn managed a timid smile in response to the boy's rather obscenely cheerful greeting. Wow...Trulurve, that was his name? An...odd name, but it wasn't his fault; it wasn't like the boy had chosen his own name. No, that was his parents' job and it wasn't Trulurve's fault if they'd screwed up the name-picking. Trilesn nodded gratefully when he pointed out where the mops were. He nodded again when Trulurve asked him about his chores. Yes, he was on kitchen duty, but he'd already fulfilled most of the time needed for that - and besides, mopping the main hall counted as kitchen duty anyways. He didn't know how exactly Trulurve knew he was on kitchen duties - unless the boy had seen him peeling tubers, and had guessed? But it didn't matter. "Thank you, and I think mopping counts as kitchen duty, too," he said quietly, scooting through the growing crowd of Drudges and hungry people swarming the kitchens. This was where he loved his small frame, where he loved his natural agility, his speed at navigating through the crowds, where Trilesn really belonged. In a few seconds' time, he was standing outside of the crowd, rummaging through a tiny closet he'd missed.

Dusty. He sneezed, sending his hair flopping into his eyes. Another sneeze, and his hair flew out. Trilesn tried not to inhale as his fingers wrapped around the thin, wooden handle of a mop and he pulled it out, grabbing an empty bucket along the way. He breathed at last, grinning in triumph as he trotted to a sink, filling the bucket with water, and lugged it and the mop back to Trulurve. "Hope you don't mind if I start here?" he asked shyly, dipping the mop in the bucket and starting. Push, pull. The movements were natural ones, ones he'd long ago become accustomed to. It was almost mindless; he could have mopped in his sleep. Perhaps it was only right that his mind stretched ahead. Millieth's clutch...

Yes. Oh, yes; he couldn't wait. Trilesn was used to commanding his expressions to neutrality, but even he couldn't help the spark of excitement in his eye as he thought of the clutch, hardening on the Sands. He flicked the mop, sending water droplets skittering across the floor, and pushed the ragged mop over them, sucking them back in again. "So, what color dragon are you hoping to Impress?" he asked, raising his eyes timidly. It was a polite question. He had no interest, honestly, in Trulurve. The other boy was simply - there. He was not overly important in the grand scheme of things in Trilesn's life at this point, and he didn't intend for him to be, either. He had nothing against the boy, but - he had nothing for him either. Trilesn had never been the type of person determined to fill every silence with speech, but - still, it seemed the topic that Candidates most discussed, the topic that should be discussed, and if one thing was certain, it was Trilesn's desire to break out of his Drudge past and wholly focus on the future. Forget bowing, scraping; forget "yes sir," and "yes ma'am." He was a Candidate now, and if idle chatter was expected from Candidates, Trilesn would give it.

[felina]

Niera groaned as she looked into the polished metal. She was so unbecoming with her hair tied back, but what was she to do about it? It was far too long to leave down during duties, especially since she was stuck with general weyr service. With her luck, they'd have her chopping down trees to make room for a dragon landing site or some other such nonsense. Still, there was no need to let her entire appearance go to waste. Hastily, for she couldn't risk tardiness, she rubbed a bit of the coal powder she'd made over her eyelids. All right, so it was barely coal and primarily some rocks she had found on the beach and then laboriously pulverized, but it was dark enough to do. That was much better; she did think that it made her bright blue eyes stand out rather nicely without looking too done-up. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she left the washroom with a slight skip detectable in her step. After all, she wasn't going to do anything to annoy anyone today, and she'd be one step closer to her queen. Not that there was really any competition at all for her.

The roster told her all she really needed to know. Mopping. How... insignificant. Niera had been mentally preparing herself for hard labor, and she ended up with a job that could be done by a small child without any difficulty. Lovely. She could well have worn her hair down after all, and not suffered for it. It was too late to change that now, though, not without a wretched bump in her hair when she pulled out the ribbon holding it back. She sighed and went to go find the mops, as it seemed to be the only option really available to her.

At the very least she seemed to be heading in the right direction. The floor was still slightly wet, and she'd nearly slipped in a puddle where there was a slight dip in the otherwise fairly even floor. She rounded a corner, stockinged feet now mostly wet from the dampness. Brilliant plan, fail to wear sturdy shoes. Still, she'd assumed that if there was any real hard labor, they'd be issued a pair for a short while, since hers were still up North and would presumably stay there for a very, very long time. It was there that she noticed the slight discrepancy with what she had assumed to be true and what was reality. Why were there two boys mopping? She'd been under the impression that she and one other had been assigned the task. How bizarre.

She stood there for a moment before deciding to be the proactive one. After all, they were only boys, barely more than children, and how could they possibly know what was going on. "'Scuse me," she said, looking at the cabinet that the mops had evidently come out of rather than the other two candidates, "but which one of y'all ain't s'posed to be here? I was told me 'n one other were mopping, but there seems to be two of y'all. I'm Niera, by the way."

[wirevix]

Trulurve looked thoughtful when Trilesn asked him what color of dragon he was hoping for. The thought had never so much as crossed his mind before. Why should he hope for one over another? They were all wonderful, and there were none that he would be displeased to meet. He finally just chuckled.

"I'm not hoping for any particulars," he said. "I love them all." Not that he'd really met many dragons yet, but he was determined he would sooner or later. He just needed to find a free moment to go out exploring and meet some more people. That might give him more of an idea, but still, he doubted it would make him care more for one color or another. "They're all different, you know, it's not hardly even fair to pick and choose by the color of their hide!"

When Niera arrived he waved at her with enthusiasm, smiling brightly even though her greeting was more complaint than hello. He didn't mind, either way he was glad to see someone else show up that he could talk to. Or talk at, depending.

"Hi Niera!" he said gleefully. "I'm Trulurve. And umn, I'm the one who's supposed to be here, Trilesn was on kitchen duty but I guess he decided to come over here! It doesn't really matter though, does it? Are there only two mops?" He glanced towards the small closet but couldn't hope to see inside from where he was.

[Avu]

Trilesn ducked his head over his chore at Trulurve's answer. It was the right answer if there was any - no preferences. All dragons equally as lovely, equally as wonderful. But he couldn't help it - green dragons had stolen his heart already and it was Sharding difficult getting unhooked from the beautiful greens. They were agile, lovely, beautiful, and not horribly oversized in comparison to him. Perfect, no? He seemed to have been made for a green dragon in his effeminate features, his size - and his mind was agreeing. He was a horrible person. Trilesn knew that, even if he failed to Impress green, and Impressed blue - he doubted he'd be worthy of a bronze or brown - he would love the dragon more than life itself. But he couldn't help but yearn for a lovely little green. Shard his biased point of view...

He was spared returning his opinion by Niera's arrival; Trilesn pawed his curls out of the way and ducked his head slightly, his eyes dropping in shame at her query. Trulurve answered for him, but he reiterated it, nodding enough that his hair fell back into his eyes. "Yes, that's me...sorry. I didn't know anybody else would be coming, and one of the Drudges asked me to help," he explained quietly. He was loathe to give up the mop, which meant he would have nothing else to do and would probably fall back on doing nothing - loafing around by the river and feeling ridiculous - and curled his fingers almost protectively around the mop handle. But no. He had to give it to her...he sighed mentally, still keeping head and eyes down as he proffered the mop. "Um, yeah, I'm sorry. Here."

Probably he could wheedle the mop back from her or something, but then again...she ought to do chores too. It seemed most people didn't enjoy them at all, and Trilesn was tempted to offer to take over for her - it felt familiar, almost soothing, to work - but resisted. It was a part of Candidacy, wasn't it? Yes. She should do it herself...that was only right..."Um, and it's nice to meet you," he added belatedly, biting his lip. "Like Trulurve said, I'm Trilesn."