Weyrling Chores; A broom? What?(open)

[dragon]

It was a broom. A completely foreign object for C'oar to be weilding. And this was a weyr ... someone else's weyr. Not that he had one himself, yet.

The whole thing was ... preposterous. He felt very awkward, to say the least. Standing in some ranking rider's weyr, holding a broom. Something that C'oar had never weilded in his life. He didn't have the foggiest notion how to sweep. That was something his mother and sisters had always done, even in the forge.

Frosstyth had no problems, what so ever, with the situation, though. He had piled up in the dragon's couch, and was sleeping soundly as if he belonged there. C'oar frowned at him pointedly, but it went unnoticed.

Heaving a sigh, the burly youth started what he hoped was appropriate cleaning. C'oar was very un used to being assigned a task ... and not doing it to specifications. But then, he wasn't used to being assigned tasks that he didn't have any skill at, either.

Thus, his attempts at sweeping were less than stellar. At first, he tried to be very delicate with it ... the broom looked rather fragile, after all. And how hard was it to move invisible dust from the floor?

That, however, became quite evidently to not work very well. The dirt got scratch marks in it, betraying just how deep it was, and it didn't go very far.

So ... he broomed a little harder. Which, basically, meant beating the floor half to death with the scraggly twiggy end of the implement. All he got was a huge cloud of dust in which he was standing in the middle of.

With no breeze, it wasn't going very far, either... and in very short order, C'oar was hacking and coughing fit to choke up a flitter.

Well ... not his flitter. Storm had long ago fled the area, to go find something more entertaining to watch...

[nightingale]

"Stand back darling, these sandstorms will tear your lungs to ribbons if you don't have your mouth covered. Ahem...I was under the impression that you were cleaning in here. Is there any particular reason you're trying to suffocate yourself instead?"

Saeo's voice came across as slightly muffled as she hovered in the doorway, one hand pressed to Cherilith's forehead to keep him from advancing, the other holding a cotton bandana over her nose and mouth. Freckle sneezed, burrowing down into the girl's shirt to escape the choking dust.

The blueweyrling wasn’t in the best of moods. In fact, this mood was almost certainly the worst she had found herself stuck in the middle of since arriving at Selenitas Weyr. It was part Shmee dying, part Raylin getting poisoned, part having lost her favourite blouse and part her inability to change any of that -but no matter the measurements, she was too miserable to bother trying to crawl out of it.

It went without saying that the last thing she wanted to be doing right now was playing drudge to the senior riders, and anyone who prolonged that servituded was fair game for ridicule.

Frosstyth? Cherilith crooned, allowing his voice to touch all of the room’s occupants regardless of the fact that he wasn’t really speaking to them. Are you in there? Do not worry, mine and I are here to help! Do not breath in the sandstorm! Keep your mouths covered and we will come to fetch you! Saeo felt a tiny laugh jump from her lips and catch in the folds of cotton that prevented it from becoming audible. Thank Faranth for little blue dragons, or she’d certainly have driven herself mad by now.

[dragon]

C'oar stopped his attempts at sweeping, coughed a few times more, and made his way toward the doorway. "What?" He asked, sounding quite raspy, as he squinted past the dirt in the air. "I was sweeping. It's not a sand storm." He protested. "It's not my fault brooms don't come with open windows."

Frosstyth lifted his head, and blinked. And then sneezed. What in the world had been going on while he was sleeping?! He sneezed again, and then padded his way through the cloud toward Cherilith. Hello, brother. What sandstorm? he asked, somewhat blearily ... partly from not being able to see through the airborne grit and partly from not really being 100% awake yet. He had just been dreaming, after all ... of being the biggest brown in the Weyr and everyone admiring him for it!

C'oar coughed again, and then went to see if there were some more airways in the area that could be opened to hopefully allow the grit to fly it's merry way out of the weyr. What a mess. Who in thier right mind let thier weyr get this gritty??

Though ... if this was what happened when a body sweeps, he could completely understand why someone would not want to do the sweeping. Sheesh.

[nightingale]

Even with only her eyes visible, it was quite easy to tell that the expression Saeo wore was of the not-very-impressed variety.

“You were sweeping?”

She repeated, obviously intending the words to be more statement than question. Cherilith crooned nervously to Frosstyth as the little brown came into view, trotting forward a few paces to meet him in the doorway and gently nudge him toward the dust-free area behind Saeo. Saeomine says that there is a sandstorm in the room Yours is cleaning. They can be very dangerous, and so we must stay out of it. He bobbed his head sincerely, then turned his whirling yellow-green eyes toward his rider. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so calm. After all, Saeo had been the one to tell him about sandstorms and how they were known for swallowing up entire trade caravans. Surely she realized how dangerous this one was?

Mine, hurry. You must go and get Frosstyth’s before he is drowned. The little blue crooned his agitation, nudging her thigh with his nose. You can’t drown in dust darling. Saeo told him, stroking him reassuringly. The weyrling seemed very confused by this, and abruptly plopped himself down next to her in a fashion similar to that of a faithful canine. Oh...what would you call having a sandstorm swallow you up then? In this case? I would call it being a moron.

Tying her bandanna behind her ears in a fashion similar Terran cow herders, the girl walked into the cloud of dust and gave a shove to the blurry, hard thing she assumed to be C’oar.

“Come on, out onto the weyrledge before you make yourself sick.”

She grumbled, squinting against the dust as it burned into her eyes. She hadn’t a clue how anyone could fail so thoroughly at sweeping a floor -it was like finding someone who didn’t know how to open a door- but if she let him keep going at it, she had a feeling that he was liable to do himself or the broom an injury.

Stupid boy.

[dragon]

"Yes ... I was sweeping." C'oar answered, though he could tell something was not quite kosher with this whole set up. He stared at Saeo's blurry form in confusion as she appeared to by trying to shove at what he assumed was some clothes hanging on the wall. He wasn't sure what it was. "What are you doing?" He asked, in confusion, between coughs.

Finally deciding that this was too much to try and breathe, he headed for where he knew there was clear air: the ledge. Granted, at the same time he heard her say something about the ledge, too. Though he couldn't fathom at all what was going on with her shoving on someone's exposed closet. "This way." he called.

Frosstyth settled into a seated position next to Cherilith. A sandstorm? Don't those normally happen outside? The brown asked, placidly. He blinked a few times, and then sneezed. Sure is dusty. I thought sand storms were made of sand?

[nightingale]

Hmmm...not moving...
Giving the wall an experimental kick, Saeo determined that her aim had been slightly off. She chose not to snap at C’oar when he pointed out her error, knowing that she’d think up some plausible excuse for it by the time she got out onto the weyrledge.

Mine? Sandstorms are made of sand, are they not? Yes, of course.[/i] The girl replied, vague irritation present in her voice as she did her best not to trip over anything that might have inconveniently placed itself between her and the open air. They’re called sandstorms because they’re made of sand. And they usually happen outside? Yes. Why? No reason my Saeo. Be careful please I do not want you to get hurt.

Yes, sandstorms are made of sand, and they do usually happen outside. Cherilith nodded to his clutchbrother as he passed on the information he had gathered. I do not know why this one is inside...but dust it like sand, is it not? Very small bits of sand?

Saeo eventually made her way onto the weyrledge, eyes streaming. Her eye paint was notably absent today, and though the arbitrary fact could be explained by any number of rationalities it was quite strange to see her without it. Her eyes seemed larger framed by blond eyelashes, their colour a little less stormy.

“What on earth were you doing in there? Trying to see how much filth you could get on the ceiling? One might imagine never used a broom before in your life!”

Oblivious to how very right she was, Saeo set about unknotting the bandanna from her face.

[dragon]

They do? Oh good. Well ... this can't be a sandstorm, then. It's inside ... and it's not sand. Dust ... is softer than sand. Sand ... coarse, rough ... dust can be soft and sneezy. Right? Frosstyth asked. He was confused, and it was taking him a moment to get his mind in gear after his nap. It was ... certainly a strange thing to have to wake up to. What was going on, anyway??

C'oar watched Saeo as she came out onto the ledge, and rubbed his own face for a moment, feeling rather gritty. "You look better without all that paint on your face." He mentioned, on impulse. And then realizing what that sounded like, he wished he hadn't said it.

"I ... I was sweeping." He held up the broom by its handle for a moment, as if to point it out. "I wasn't trying to get it on the ceiling. I'm not that creative in my chores." He said, trying to not grin at the very idea. She was plainly pissed at him ... it wouldn't do to laugh at her. "Er ... I haven't, actually, ever used a broom before." He admitted, a tad on the sheepish side.

That was ... embarrassing. Apparently, it hadn't worked very well, what he was trying to do. Surely sweeping couldn't be that hard!!!

[nightingale]

Sand can also be soft and sneezy. Cherilith mused, offering his brother a visual memory of the soft, powdery white sand near the riverbank. And so can flour...but it is called flour, not dust. I do not know how sand would get inside...so perhaps we should call this something else?

Because today was the sort of day where, if anything could be taken the wrong way, it would, Saeo offered the brownweyrling a look that may well have been a command for him to drop dread on the spot.

“Well excuse me for being hideous every other day of my life.” She snarled, glaring into the pale blue fabric of her bandana as she set about shaking the dust from it. “And it’s none of your concern which parts of myself I choose to paint anyway, so just...come off it!” It was Raylin’s term, and so the blueweyrling wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but she spoke the words as if they translated into ‘shut up and leave me alone’.

The boy’s comment on the fact that he had never used a broom before was immediately dismissed as foolishness. Of course he had used a broom before -everyone had used a broom before. He was a sharding smith, wasn’t he? How could he have never used a broom before?

“You’re a sharding smith, aren’t you? How could you have never used a broom before?”

She wasn’t feeling patient enough to mull over the idea on her own.

[dragon]

C'oar just looked at Saeo for a moment in silence. He was used to her being an all around grouch and complaining sort ... that was normal. But he wasn't used to her being outright nasty like that. Thankfully, he was a very tolerant sort, and nasty rolled off nearly as easily as grouchy did.

Without batting an eye, he replied: "My mother did all the sweeping at the smith. I did the bellows and the hammering. Or the sawing. That sort of thing. The stuff that took muscle." He more or less completely ignored her quip about being ugly. He didn't agree, but knew that if he continued on that topic, he'd only be digging his grave a little deeper. C'oar looked at the broom in his hand for a moment, and then at the room that was only just now starting to clear somewhat from the dust cloud.

He closed one nostril with a gritty thumb, and snorted out the other to clear it. There. Much better. Now he could half breathe, without his mouth hanging open like a guppyfish.

All the while, Frosstyth contemplated what Cherilith was saying. I suppose it's possible. Unlikely, I would think. But possible. Hey! I haven't seen that bit of river ... where is that?? He asked.

[nightingale]

Saeo had no argument to make. His excuse was both logical and forgivable, which of course did nothing but make her even more irritated. The truly awful thing about it was that she recognized that she was behaving poorly and made no move to amend it -it was just one of those moods that made you not really care about anything if it wasn’t effecting you directly.

It is downriver where Mine washes me. Are you sure that you have never seen it? The little blue tilted his head questioningly. It is very pretty there. There are many little fishes that like to live around the rocks and once we saw a wild flitter! You must come and see it with me sometime.

One her bandanna was safely tied about her neck once again, the girl stepped forward to pluck the broom from C’oar’s hands and carry it over to the edge of the now truly filthy weyr. She offered him the briefest of over-the-shoulder glances.

“Now pay close attention, because I haven’t the desire to show you twice.”

Because she had been the junior most apprentice in her father’s workshop, Saeo was quite skilled at menial chores such as sweeping, dusting and getting blood out of clothing. The dust that pooled around her feet like a low flying cloud was a result of the powder-fine texture of the sand, but did not threaten to choke her as she nudged it outside.

[dragon]

Really? I will have to take mine down there, sometime. We use any old part of the river we happen to come across at the time. I didn't know there was a special place for bathing! I bet it's really pretty. I will definitely have to go see it ... maybe later today! Frosstyth decided, finally, perking up considerably. A new place to explore!

C'oar, on the other hand, remained silent and more or less still. He allowed Saeo to more or less steal the broom from him - he really didn't want the thing anyway. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he frowned slightly and just watched as she started babying the dirt across the floor and out of the weyr. From her knees down was slightly blurred by the dust hovering around it ... it made him smile ever so slightly.

Even the all powerful, self-important Saeo couldn't sweep without making a cloud!

C'oar just let her have at it, holding his silence and frowning most of the time ... barring the occassional expression change from thoughts flitting through his head. If she wanted to do his chores for him, he'd let her. It'd be about time that it wasn't him doing her chores.

Though he had to wonder why she was in such a foul mood. As awful as she usually treated people, this was extremely too far gone for it to be normal for her.

So, finally, braving the fire, he spoke up again. "What's jammed in your craw, today?"

Okay ... that wasn't the most delicate way to put anything ... but words said couldn't be unsaid.

[nightingale]

The girl flinched visibly, her small frame going rigid for a fraction of a second before she relaxed and began to attack the dust with a little more fervency then she had been previously putting into her assault.

“You mean apart from our weyrwoman getting murdered, the fact that my best friend almost died recently and my being stuck in some strange rider’s weyr doing drudge work? Absolutely nothing. Why else would I be in such ridiculously good spirits?”

Saeo made a half-hearted attempt to sweep a small pebble out onto the ledge before getting irritated and giving it a hard kick. It went spinning off into the weyr, hitting something with a soft tap.

“My nerves are just stretched a little bit taught right now, so I would really appreciate if you would not give me reason to claw off one of your ears and feed it to my salalamandyr.”

Mine does not seem very happy lately... Cherilith warbled a soft, thoughtful little sound, sending his rider a cool wash of affection that he hoped would soothe her. Perhaps we can all go after the chores are finished? Mine likes the river, and I can show you where my fishes live. It might be fun.

[dragon]

C'oar considered that for a moment. And then nodded slightly. That, at least, was an excusable reason for being stressed out. Though, taking it out on everyone else was not a very nice way of dealing with it. But, being Saeo ... she'd be acting strangely if she wasn't biting at someone. And he could take it better than some.

"I don't think my ear makes good mandyr candy." C'oar defended, mildly. "But everyone will be okay. Just wait and see. They're recovering fairly well. You need a spell, I think." He mentioned, before taking the broom away from her again, after she kicked the pebble across the room like she meant to kill something with it. "Just ... calm down." He admonished, kindly.

He considered the broom for a moment, and then shrugged slightly. He could figure out how to sweep, in time. But she was getting deadly. He was half afraid that she might have started swinging the broom at him in her frustrations.

Frosstyth looked back into the room, and shuffled slightly. I see. She needs a nap. Or a swim. Maybe both. And a good meal. Still fresh and warm. It'll warm her insides up. Frosstyth remarked.