Kitchenmouse (Chores)

[wirevix]

Kariel had accepted that he would need to do chores and hadn't complained about it. It only made sense, after all, he was staying here and ought to be helping out. But that didn't mean he liked having to work in a busy, noisy, hot place like the kitchen.

He had no idea if he could cook and he really didn't think he ought to try to find out now. He knew for sure he couldn't bring things to tables, there was no way he would avoid falling on his face and dropping everything somehow, his luck just ran that way. The mere thought of poking at the cookfires made him nervous, all he could think of was getting somehow caught on fire and well, he didn't think he would survive even if he did get it put out. Nevermind how unlikely it was that anything so drastic would happen--he couldn't focus on anything else.

So he was sweeping. A simple, boring, easy chore that even a wreck like him could do. He was doing his best to be thorough but appeared more to be slow, hesitating about getting too close to anyone else working in the kitchen, focusing on the floor and trying to pretend he was somewhere else. He felt pathetic and stupid but he would rather that than feeling locked in terror because he tried to do something challenging... and then failing the task miserably.

Maybe next time he would actually put himself forward to do something more useful than pushing dust around. Ha, who was he trying to fool? Next time would be exactly like this time. Sigh.

[felina]

Why, in Faranth's name, was he working kitchen duty? Wasn't there anything more important for Candidates to do? He thought they would be doing something meaningful, helping out the Riders with drills or something, not menial drudge work. It was almost insulting. Kishanner kneaded the bread almost savagely, working out his frustration on the innocent dough. At the very least, he could be helping to produce flying leathers; he had been a tanner for Faranth's sake, it wasn't as though he didn't know what he was about when it came to that sort of thing! Unlike the Harpers, he had a useful skill and it was being miserably wasted in this sweaty kitchen.

Not to mention the odd looks that people kept giving him. His dark eyes hardened as he glanced at his rolled-up sleeves and how they exposed the scars on his arms. As though his face alone wouldn't have been enough to keep them talking about the monster candidate for a few days. Glaring at just about everyone in the general vicinity, he shoved the abused dough into a bowl to rise and went to go wash the excess flour from his hands. He'd been more than long enough kneading that dough, but at least it had cleared his head somewhat and he didn't quite feel the need to put his hands around someone's throat and squeeze until the breath stopped flowing. Such impulses were so unlike him, he almost didn't know quite what to make of them.

At least he wasn't the only one who seemed nervous. One of the smaller candidates was busy sweeping, and incorrectly at that, at the area Kishanner had only recently vacated. He'd noticed the smaller boy before, always working in areas that didn't have anyone else, and ordinarily would have respected his obvious wish for privacy, but really. Was it really that difficult to sweep? Evidently so. Hoping he wouldn't terrify the poor kid too much, Kishanner walked up behind him, trying not to make too much noise so he wouldn't startle him. "Hey, kid, you're doing it wrong." He realized a couple of moments later just how rude that had come out. "I can show you how, if you like. I'm Kishanner; Kish, I guess."

[wirevix]

Kariel had glimpsed the scarred candidate numerous times as he worked, but had steadfastly avoided looking at him too much. He didn't want to be thought rude for staring. It wasn't like he had never seen someone with some amount of disfigurement before--it had been normal enough, back North, to see people who had been savagely clawed or burned because they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he normally didn't get so close to them because the thought of it made him nervous. If his father had preferred a knife instead of his own fists, he could have ended up looking like that, and it unsettled him to think about that.

Though his attention was kept steadily on the floor, Kariel was always nervously aware of his surroundings. Kishanner's quiet approach had not gone unnoticed, and Kariel's miserable efforts at sweeping had slowed to a halt as the bigger boy came up behind him. He still jumped when the other candidate spoke to him, despite knowing he was there, and whirled around with a squeak. His eyes were wide and uncertain, flicking here and there like he wasn't sure if he was actually supposed to look at the other or not.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry," he mumbled, flinching when the other informed him he was doing it wrong. It figured he couldn't even push dirt around the right way. His shoulders hunched up and his head lowered, and he desperately hoped he wasn't about to get hit. Running away was a very tempting option but that usually made everything worse once he was caught.

"...I... I'm... Kariel," he managed to whisper when the other belatedly introduced himself. He clutched the broom in a white-knuckle grip, not sure if he should go ahead and agree to being shown how or if saying anything more would get him deeper into the hole he'd apparently dug for himself. Stupid broom.

[felina]

Kishanner fought down the urge to sigh and roll his eyes in frustration. Make the count of people who didn't know where to look thirty-two now. Even open staring was better, sometimes. Perhaps he would have been better off volunteering for a wher, though he knew full well that living in the darkness all the time like that would be absolutely horrid. Not to mention that whers smelled, well, dead, and that was one smell he never really had cherished. He supposed it was better with the dragons, after all, though there were a few things that had to be dealt with. This Kariel kid's total ineptitude, for one.

"You don't need to apologize, you know," he said, grinning slightly. "Everybody's gotta learn someday. Guess this is just your day. See, look, you hold it like this." He stood opposite from Kariel and held the broom, one hand near the top and one towards the middle, slightly above Kariel's hands. "Though I guess for you it'd be a bit lower since you're such a shrimp. The point is to hold the top hand mostly steady and use just the bottom one to move the broom around. Don't just push at it, though, or you won't get anywhere. So you try now. And by the way, I only eat people for breakfast, so since that time's past, you should be safe."

He stood back to see how Kariel handled the broom. Kishanner had to wonder, though, how such a tiny, terrified boy ever got Searched. What did the dragons see in him? What did they see in anyone, for that matter? He'd seen plenty of strong boys passed over, brilliantly smart boys, in favor of the twiggiest little barefooted girls with dirt under their fingernails. Well, in the end, it was their choice.

[wirevix]

Kariel swallowed when the other put his hands on the broom. This was a test, he told himself. A test to see if he could hang onto his wits when someone else was paying him so much attention, even though everything that he'd learned told him that attention was a very bad thing. At least Kishanner wasn't actually physically touching him. He didn't know what he would do if that happened; probably just keel over. He hated being how he was, but he didn't really think there was anything he could do it.

Kishanner's joke about eating people managed to get the weakest of smiles from Kariel. He nodded slightly as he resumed sweeping, following the other candidate's instructions on how it was to be done, still being very slow and deliberate and keeping his eyes on the ground. He wouldn't have known what a dragon would see in him either, but he never really thought about it like that. Even if he stayed here forever, inside, and never amounted to more than a drudge--well, it was better than being out there, where someone could find him that actually knew where he came from.

Kariel supposed his lack of real ambition didn't help his confidence any. Maybe if he had a real goal, beyond mere survival, he would be less jumpy and more determined. Maybe he needed to make up his mind that he really wanted to be a dragonrider--even though dragons terrified him. Maybe he needed to just stop doing what other candidates did only because he thought it was expected of him. Maybe--just maybe--he needed to actually develop a little bit of independence and make decisions for himself for once.

Ha. As if that would ever happen. He'd grown up with it forced upon him that he was to follow orders and not make a peep. It would be harder than just making up his mind to break all the training to obey.

[ladybug]

Rilyer was really annoyed that he still had to do chores. In candidate lessons, why didn't they say, "Oh, you'll be a wonderful and respected wher handler, and you'll still have to do drudge work, haha!" He just wanted to be a "real" handler already. Lessons were generally boring, and he couldn't stop thinking about the kind of exciting work he could do when he was finally graduated. Rilysk's apathetic attitude towards most things didn't help, either, as much as he loved the brown.

Thus, he was not in any particular hurry to get to his chores, and arrived several minutes late. One boy was already sweeping industriously, and the other was watching him intently. He hadn't known that sweeping was a two person job, but he could be mistaken.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, sweeping--ha, ha--dramatically into the room. "You'll cover for me, right?" He grinned at the two lads, thumping Kishanner on the back as he passed. They were candidates, and he was a wherling, so he thought he had some superiority over them. "What are we doing today? Oh, I'm Rilyer, by the way. Handler of brown Rilysk."

[felina]

Kishanner nodded slightly. "Just don't be afraid to hurt the floor. No matter how hard you use the broom, I promise you, you're not going to hurt the floor." And there he was repeating Turns-old lessons about handling runnerbeasts of all things. Since when were they relevant to kitchen duty? Though it was true, the same concept did apply to brushing one of those horrid, vicious creatures as to sweeping a floor, only with much less hair involved when one was only dealing with a floor. Less pain, too, at least in his experience. Whatever others may have tried to tell him, however many times he had seen small children walk away from the beasts unscathed, he really couldn't go back to that blind trust he'd once had around them. Or any sort of trust at all, for that matter.

Lords and Laides, the troupe of fools, he thought sourly as an obnoxiously loud boy interrupted his musings. Kishanner was about to turn to greet him when something, no, someone hit him on the back. That boy had just touched him. From where did he think he had received he right to go and invade his personal space like that? Kishanner had certainly never given him permission. "You touched me," he said disbelievingly, choosing not to answer the questions already posed him for the time being. He realized, though, that letting Kariel answer wasn't likely to net many results, from what he'd seen of the boy thus far.

Still glaring, he replied, "Kitchen duty, what's it look like? They got me, Kishanner, baking bread, 's rising in the bowl over there. Kariel's sweeping, which I guess you already figured 'less you're blind from living down there in the dark with the whers." How odd. He really wasn't quite certain which surprised him more, how angry he was today or how he was able to view that anger in such a detached way. It was interesting, analyzing that emotion he so rarely expressed. What was it that had pushed him over the edge like this, on this particular day? The duties, the stress of living in the weyr? Or was it some compounded effect that showed because of everything that had happened the past few weeks.

[wirevix]

Rilyer's loud entrance had Kariel freezing up again, staring up at the new person with a great deal of uncertainty. After a moment, when he wasn't immediately set upon, his hands started to move again automatically, but the end of the broom was about a half-inch away from actually touching the floor because he'd drawn his arms in closer to himself defensively when he saw Rilyer hit Kishanner on the back. Sure it was meant to be more of a chummy gesture but it still unnerved him greatly and think that he might be next. He really didn't want to get hit, even if it was just on the shoulder and not really that hard of a blow.

He glanced down, hiding by looking away again, and realized he wasn't actually accomplishing anything with his motions. Highly frustrated with himself, he got to actually sweeping again, trying to take out some of his frustration on the floor or broom or whichever. It didn't really work very well, he wasn't used to physically expressing anything but fear. He just looked like he was sweeping more normally. Well, at least it would help him get done faster.

He was glad Kishanner had said his name, he was getting tired of stammering everytime he introduced himself. Maybe he ought to pretend he couldn't talk. Well that wouldn't work because he'd already talked a few times. Maybe he would wear a sign around his neck? Except he would have to get someone else to write it for him and he didn't think he could work up the nerve to ask them. It seemed he had no other alternative but to stutter his way through saying his name regularly. People never used to care what his name was. At least they cared enough to nod at him when he said it now.

[ladybug]

Rilyer chuckled at the candidate's shocked reaction to what he considered a friendly gesture. "Indeed I did," he answered to the shocked statement, giving Kishanner a bemused little smile. Why did people have to be so sharding sensitive? Of course, dragon riders were supposed to be sensitive, but if this was the result, Rilyer was glad to be a wher handler. He glanced at the sweeping candidate, who hadn't even given him a little hello. Evidently, it was too much to expect people to be friendly around here.

"Guess I'll wash dishes," he muttered, heading for the sink. However, Kishanner's next words stopped him cold. He visibly tensed, his eyes narrowing as he slowly turned around again. His fist clenched, and his jaunty grin quickly transformed into a glare. "Do you have something against whers?" He asked, his voice dangerously soft.

Talk about sensitive! One vague comment about wher handlers was enough to set him off.

[felina]

Well, someone needed to work on their people skills. Kishanner resisted the urge to close his eyes and attempt to black out the memory of that ostentatious wherhandler actually hitting him. What did he think he was, so high and mighty above they lowly candidates with his precious brown wher. Probably smelled like death, too. Oh, how Rilyer's question brought on the most wondrous longings to do something stupid.

"Do I have something against whers?" Kishanner mocked, returning Rilyer's glare, albeit with a rather twisted scowl. "Well, let's see now. Their handlers are evidently pretentious dimglows who think they're better than everyone else, regardless of the fact that they've got the same duty rotations; but, they protect our weyr when everyone else is asleep. Nope, I haven't got anything against whers, just their handlers. I mean look, the handler apparently can't even manage something as simple as showing up for their duty rotation on time. It's just pathetic."

He didn't really expect the other boy to do anything other than turn to his dishes in a soapy huff, though in the off chance that he did do something drastic, Kishanner shifted his weight to one foot, the better to jump out of the way. He wasn't really into picking fights, unless those fights remained verbal. Thankfully he'd long known how to stay out of the way of blows, even if the ones he delivered himself were verging on the wimpy. For all of his imposing bulk, he really was a weakling in some respects. Thankfully, Rilyer had no way of knowing that.