Group I: Kitchen Chores

[ryanne]

Chop, chop, push, chop, chop, push. Repetition...over and over again...chop, chop, push, chop, chop. Liassa knew how to cook, but she was only a candidate so she got to chop up the tubers after she skinned them all. So there she stood in the kitchen, being extremely careful not to hurt herself. Her mother had assigned her to her chore, keeping in mind that she was no longer a weyrbrat helping out her mother, but a candidate with certain duties. Liassa almost wished she'd ignored that.

Chop, chop, push, chop, chop, push. Clean knife. Continue. Liassa wished she could let her mind wander, to think about Standing or even the dream of Impression. But she knew that the second she stopped paying attention to the knife in her hands, she'd cut herself and that wouldn't be good. She knew she just had to keep focusing and working and then it would all be done. She'd already skinned the barrel of tubers, but she had barely put a dent in the chopping. Shards, weyr people ate a lot of tubers.

Chop, chop, push, chop, chop, push."Liassa, pay attention. I will not have you in bandages," her mother warned. She needn't bother, but the warning came from turns of watching over her daughter's back or supervising other young workers. The young candidate knew what she had to do and how to do it, but it was almost comforting to know that her mother still felt the need to watch her. Unlike most weyrbrats who simply got annoyed, Liassa knew that it meant that her mother cared. And it was a warm feeling. And Liassa loved warm.

[Tashe]

Quietly dodging around the multitudes of cooks and servers, the uninterested Greenweyrling brought supplies to the different work stations. Kitchen duty was not her favorite chore of them all, she hated the stark heat of the fires and the overpowering smells of everything cooking mashed together. The only thing lucky about her being assigned to this particular chore was the fact she was about to change jobs and become a server. Depositing the last of the bowls of chopped up fowl breasts with a particularly robust cook, Gina skidded to a stop just in time to avoid colliding with a large platter wielding drudge.

"Hey you! Watch where the shards you are going!"

Growling something foul in return, the young woman slid under the platter and down toward the front of the kitchen. Snatching up a clean, unsoiled apron, Gina quickly disposed of her old one before donning the new one. Squeaking as one of the master chefs appeared out of no where and dragged her with them, the Greenweyrling groaned as she noticed the heavy bowls of soup that awaited her. Damn them....

[Kisha-Ra]

Odain glared at a pile of dirty pots with such intensity it was a wonder they didn’t vaporise. He had thought kitchen duty would be an easy chore at first, not to mention a good opportunity to filch things. Sadly for the sweet-toothed candidate the kitchen staff were wise to that sort of thing and the first time he’d so much as moved a hand toward a pastry Odian had received such a rap on the knuckles that he though his hand still hurt, and that had been days ago. So Odian was now stuck with the indignity of pots, and lots of them, for his attempted pilfering.

Since glaring at the pans wasn’t making them noticeably cleaner Odian sighed mightily and began scouring the pots with extreme reluctance and a great deal of splacshing and clanking. ‘You realise this is absolutely going to ruin my fair maidenly hands, right?’ he asked.