Post by dragon on Mar 4, 2009 17:12:44 GMT -5
C'oar found himself doing chores in the kitchen. Again. Though, it had been some time since he'd been there before. The last time, he hadn't a clue who anyone was. And he'd been a Candidate at the time. Now? Now, he had some notion of who's who, and he was a Weyrling.
A still recovering Weyrling, but, meh. His extremeties were getting better. His strength was almost completely back. He still didn't like the vibrations, but, well, it would take time. Frosstyth was pretty sure he'd make a full recovery. But the brown was quite optimistic about anything concerning his rider...
C'oar had avoided anything duty wise in the kitchen that involved knives. What with his subconcious being accustomed to hair-line accuracy with knives, and his hands not being that accurate anymore, the last thing he wanted to do was be chopping tubers only to discover he'd lopped his hand off.
So, yes, having no skill what so ever in cooking much of anything, C'oar was washing dishes again. At least washing dishes was a far more successful endeavor than sweeping stone floors had been. Lost more or less in his own thoughts, C'oar paid little attention to what was going on around him, at the moment, mindlessly staring at the endless stream of pots, pans, plates, etc that he was washing. In one side of the sink. Wash, rinse, out the other side of the sink. Repeat.
Perched atop a cabinet, Storm was snoozing. The flitter thought he was keeping an eye on C'oar, to keep anyone from poisoning him again. But there wasn't much keeping an eye on anything, when a body was sound asleep, tail dangling over the front edge. Silly flitter.
A still recovering Weyrling, but, meh. His extremeties were getting better. His strength was almost completely back. He still didn't like the vibrations, but, well, it would take time. Frosstyth was pretty sure he'd make a full recovery. But the brown was quite optimistic about anything concerning his rider...
C'oar had avoided anything duty wise in the kitchen that involved knives. What with his subconcious being accustomed to hair-line accuracy with knives, and his hands not being that accurate anymore, the last thing he wanted to do was be chopping tubers only to discover he'd lopped his hand off.
So, yes, having no skill what so ever in cooking much of anything, C'oar was washing dishes again. At least washing dishes was a far more successful endeavor than sweeping stone floors had been. Lost more or less in his own thoughts, C'oar paid little attention to what was going on around him, at the moment, mindlessly staring at the endless stream of pots, pans, plates, etc that he was washing. In one side of the sink. Wash, rinse, out the other side of the sink. Repeat.
Perched atop a cabinet, Storm was snoozing. The flitter thought he was keeping an eye on C'oar, to keep anyone from poisoning him again. But there wasn't much keeping an eye on anything, when a body was sound asleep, tail dangling over the front edge. Silly flitter.