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 Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 6:56 pm
Kazairl had traded chores to see her. It hadn’t been very difficult, and it was a trick he’d used before to get some time in with pretty girls, but he liked to congratulate himself on the duplicity. If she knew about it, he’d expect her to congratulate herself as well. He was too tall by a half to ever succeed for the ever-stooping chores in the kitchen, and he wasn’t willing to risk back strain for just any pretty face around the weyr. He’d thought he’d seen her around the weyr before, but after seeing her tearing up at the Touching the other day, he didn’t have much of a choice. Too cute to ignore really.
At least the work wasn’t bad now. The head cook on duty had given him one long look before sending him to a long line of counter. And on the counter? Several bowls of cut meat and what looked like a hundred trays of rolled out dough. The job was to cut the dough into squares and roll them around bits of meat. He looked down at the counter and sighed. “The things I do,” he mumbled into the empty air.
He tossed his long black braid around his neck (to keep it from falling into the food), and after rolling the sleeves of his baggy, plain tunic up, washed his large, scarred hands and bent over the counter. Let the backache begin.
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Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2010 7:59 pm
The thin female harper found herself rushing into the kitchen pushing her long brown bangs behind her ears, she was once again clad in traditional harper blue; wearing a large fangish grin on her pale pretty face the slender woman took quick strides towards the Head Cook.
"Aah Journeymen Ashmere, it is good to see that you were prompt in getting here. We have a few of the younger candidates here as well, all bumbling around, slowing down production. If you could start prep some of the meats and fruits, it would greatly help." Sincerely stated the Head Cook while returning to their own work, nodding towards the older woman Ashmere turned with almost a snap on her heels, urgently ushering herself towards a nook where she could claim an apron.
With steady hands the short haired brunette pulled her blue over-tunic from her extremely slender frame, revealing a lighter shade of blue shirt with long white sleeves. Rolling the cuffs past her elbows and donning herself in the cooking smock the petite framed woman tied a band of cloth around her brow as a makeshift bandana to keep her chin length hair out her face and away from the food.
Moving with long strides again Ashmere took to the cleaning pitcher in which she washed her hands up to her wrists with extreme diligence in being thorough. Shaking her head lightly the pale complexioned brunette moved over to where the boy with the long black braid was standing, crossing her arms over her chest she narrowed her cold grey hues at him.
"Come here, lad. Let me do something with your mane. And you need an apron. Approach me please." Ashmere addressed almost rankingly towards Kazairl as she stood beside him lightly tapping her thickly boot clad foot.
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Posted: Fri Dec 24, 2010 8:15 pm
LOG: Murphys_Law Kazairl turned, expecting to see a stout or at least formidable looking woman giving such starch orders. However, surprises of surprises, it was her. He arched a brow, looking the long way down to the petite young woman, and even further, giving her a once over. Well, she wasn’t as sweet-seeming as she’d seemed on the Sands with that attitude, and the scar running across her face wasn’t the sort of thing that made a man think of brushing a soft cheek. Nor were her blisteringly chilled eyes something one might melt for, but there was a certain fire beneath them. Amused by his own obedience to this elfin girl, he did as bid and approached her. An absentminded turn of his lip gave some hint of his thoughts, but he otherwise did his best to look chastened. “Yes?” The Anesthesia Ashmere grinned sweetly as the boy turned and gazed at her, tilting her head to the side slightly she placed her thin fingers on both of her hips. "Well, your hair is loose, let me put it back for you silly boy, in a bun." Flashing the taller boy another smile her hardened eyes soften just for a moment as she held out the apron towards the long haired man. "C'mon follow me to the back you can put the apron on then I will bind your hair, if that is alright," she lightly chuckled into her hand. "If you think I am up tight you should see what happens if the head cook finds a hair in the meat." Ashmere lifted one thin long finger to her neck and dragged it across the soft pale fresh of her neck as if it where a dagger. Turning on her heels the small framed harper slowly headed towards the darkened dry storage area, glancing over her shoulder she grinned fangishly as she made a 'come hither' motion with her index finger over her right shoulder. Murphys_Law Loose? It was braided back, but he shrugged, donned the apron, and stepped after her at a lively pace, caring less about hygiene and thinking more about what an amusing pair they must have made tromping through the kitchen, him all lankiness and her all small, quick motions. Ah, but he did love smaller women. Even when they were so delicate looking he was half afraid to touch them, they were quite drawing. And didn’t this one have sass? She probably didn’t know she was making herself so endearing with it. By the time they reached the storage area, he had a smirk on his face. He had a good smirk too, one with a cleverly curved mouth and slightly lidded, conspiratorial eyes. “Find? She’s likely choke on one of mine. If you’ve got something to stick this into a bun, go ahead. I can’t remember the last time I bothered.” ((If she punched him in the face he's still probably say "Awww, how cute." XD)) The Anesthesia "Choke?" She little chuckled as she shook her head then eyed the boy with her cold stare, a bit of blue in her hues sparkled in the din glow of the dimly lit storage room. "Don't worry about the bun, I have an idea about it. Hm, besides the cooks in the kitchen will think you are very keen to wear your hair like all longhaired men of the cooking craft. It is a very respectful sign towards those of their craft." Stepping up onto a crate of tubers the slim framed harper grabbed at the boy's mane, even though her movement was swift her actions were gentle. Coiling the braid until it was a tight and well placed at the back of his head Ashmere almost seemingly pulled another peice of cloth from nowhere. Lacing and twisting she pulled away and gave the completely covered bun a once over then lightly tested it, nodding at her handy work she patted him on his broad shoulder. "There we go, you are all set." Setting down she held onto his arm lightly for added balance, once grounded the thin built woman lightly bowed as she smiled at the young man. "My name is Ashmere, journeymen harper to the Weyr. It is nice to meet you. Now lets get back into the kitchen before the old cronies think we are back here locking lips or something of that nature." Pausing for a moment after taking a few steps she peered over her shoulder. "By the chance, what is your name and craft, handsome." Murphys_Law Even with the crate of tubers, Kazairl bent his knees a bit so give her an even easier vantage. “They don’t put me in the kitchen much. Not that I’m a curse, but I’m a bit bigger than most of the fresh lads that the search dragons pick up, and I’m usually saved for heavy jobs.” He was starting to get old for a Candidate in fact. Not too old yet, but at his age most tried to find some alternate crafts to fall back on. Some even figured that after Standing, what, was it four times now, that they just weren’t suited for a dragon and would return to their trade rather than spoil their futures at their craft. Kazairl was less concerned. He had enough friends among the common weyr people that he could pick up some menial job with the runners or washing if he didn’t Impress, but he would have a dragon one day. He was plenty good enough for them, after all. It was just a matter of waiting for a dragon to hatch that suited him. He nodded his thanks after she finished with his hair and patted at it lightly, testing what she’d done with his fingers. ‘Oh, a Harper?’ he thought silently, arching a brow as they left the storage room, and grinning at the mention of locking lips. She had some humor, this one, though he hoped to move past just joking about intimacy soon. “Kazairl. I was born fishercraft, but I’ve been here a few turns now, and I’m quite pleased to find my chores lightened with your presence. Though, I'm curious why someone would want you to put your string-fingers in pastries.” The Anesthesia 'Oh I am sure the headcook would just love for me to put my fingers in other things besides her pastries.' Ashmere dryly thought to herself before she lightly shrugged her petite shoulders. Licking her lips lightly she paused and took in a small lungful of air. "Well Kazairl," Ashmere stated drawling out her words as she slowly exhaled her breath. "my string-fingers are useful for plenty of tasks, my mother was a baker and my father was a farmer. Before I could pluck a string I already had the calloused fingers needed to do it from chores. Besides I love cooking, it gives me plenty of chances to sneak extra portions of food for myself. As thin as I am when I do feel like eating the sharding kitchens are already closed and supper long since served. It is always nice to snack when I can. Mildriff doesn't mind----oh Mildriff is the name of the headcook." Ashmere quickly explained. Approaching the meat counter the slender pixie of a woman began to tuck the meat into the cuts of dough, her long thin fingers moving at a dazzling speed of practice. Murphys_Law He chuckled. “I’m not convinced that you eat at all, little as you are.” Kazairl moved beside her, hefting a second bowl of meat to his side of the table. He paused, distracted by the quick motions to his side, and eyed the way she deftly worked the meat. Eyebrows lifted, he looked back to his own think-skinned hands and replicated her motions – much more slowly and clumsily. “You can, uh, tell Mildred, I’m better at the chopping block than making these things,” he said conspiratorially to the side, as if revealing a great secret that his hands were already betraying. “But I was wondering more why a ranked harper is doing Candidate chores. I mean, besides being a Candidate. Did you give up strings to Stand or what?” The Anesthesia Ashmere quirked her brow slightly as she spoke to her right handside where the boy known as Kazairl stood. Sliding her fingers through the dough and into the meat she paused for only for a hickup of a moment. "If Mildriff heard you call her Mildred she would have you on the chopping block, handsome." Again she paused for a tick then moved on to the next set of pastries she needed to make. She laughed softly. "I certainly didn't give up the strings to Stand, in addition to candidate chores I still have my harper business that I attend to. Extremely busy is how my days are now---" She tilted her head slightly to the right and shot the boy an impish fanged grin. "Hm, big hands. I can see how you might do a bit better on the cutting block. But Large hand are also useful in the kitchen. You can do this---" Moving closer to the boy she lifted his left hand and slid against him so that her small frame was infront of him almost with his arms around her. Taking both his hands she gave the boy four sets of dough and a long stretch of meat. She tucked the corners using his hands loosely around the meat and dough. Reaching over she took a mallet and a large cleaver. Resting the back of her head on his chest as she lifted her head up to address him she spoke. "Pound the hammer on the tops then take the cleaver and make even sections. Watch, it will save you loads of time. Give it a really sound wack! Go for it Kaz!" Murphys_Law Kazairl shrugged at the name. He was usually good with names and faces, but he less interested in the stuffy kitchen worker than the dainty working dough to his side… and then in front of him. For all his size, he was pliable in her hands, though they anticipated no moves and went only with her direction. Had they followed Kazairl’s line of attention and sight, it wouldn’t have been the cleaver and hammer he’d have been gripping. When she looked up at him he was already looking down, and he blinked, eyes clearing. Go for it? Here? Really? He almost glanced over his shoulder to see if Mildred or Mildraft or whatever was nearby, but understanding hit. Oh, the hammer. He readjusted his grip on the cleaver and made several quick cuts. They were even cuts of an appropriate size, but halfway through the exercise a grin caught fire on Kazairl’s face and his arms found a wave of curving around Ashemere’s middle as the cuts unfolded. When he finished he set the tools aside and laid his hands on Ashemere’s waist, slowly, and bent to kiss her forehead. “Thank you, dear. That was a clever notion.” ((For the record, I HURT myself laughing. Response took so long because because I couldn't keep a straight face.)) The Anesthesia (For the record I was really hoping that you would find it cute/funny) Ashmere near froze as she felt the young man bend downward and lay lips to her forehead as his large hands laced lightly on her danty waist. Oh s**t!!!! Mentally screamed the little harper as she flinched and pulled herself away from the young man. "Dear? Ha----woo getting a wee bit warm in here now isn't it? Lookie! Your meat....ah...um....roll..." She blushed a bright shade of crimson as her eyes tried to dart downward to avoid his eyes but she could only stare at his trousers, her thin face darkened even more so as she covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh shards, I am so sorry Kazairl, was I flirting?" She paniced lightly and braced herself against the counter. Murphys_Law Kaz’s hands leapt off her as if electrified. He stared after her, shocked, empty hands held up as if to show harmlessness. “What?” he said through her babbling. What was wrong? And what was that bit about his meat roll? Finally she stopped stumbling and sagged, and the pivotal question came. He stared at her, still frozen in painful confusion. “Yeah!” he answered, and made a sweeping gesture to everything Ashemere had been so nicely pressed up against a moment ago. “And you were doing a really good job, too. What happened?” The Anesthesia Ashmere gripped the countertop a bit more roughly. Was that how some people saw her cries for attention, her need for affection? Blushing deeply the pixie framed harper removed her hands from her face and lightly sighed as if trying to calm herself. Maybe this could work to her advantage, having a straping young lad wrapped around her fingers? Was she really that manipulative? No, she just wanted to fit in. Laughing into her palm, the sound coming out almost like a chirp she batted her eyes at the boy and wriggled her shoulders slightly as she turned back to the food. "Good, just making sure I was doing a decent job at it." Ashmere lightly mewled as she began to pile the completed meat pastries onto a large cooking sheet. She wouldn't mind cuddling the young man or having his strong hands holding her waist as they walked down the halls or outside. It would work out for both of them, he would get women's attention and so would she. It would be perfect for both of them. It wasn't leading him on, it was helping him without him knowing it. Yes that was it. "Can't a girl play hard to get?" She turned away from Kazairl with the rolls and headed towards the oven, swaying her hips as she went. ' This is sort of fun.' Murphys_Law Kazairl looked Ashemere over critically, thinking with quick suspicion, but his conclusions fell short of surety. Maybe… maybe he’d moved a touch too quickly. Maybe she preferred to play at having the upper hand in moments like these. As he tilted his head and watched her sashay her way to the oven, his body convinced his brain that must have been the reason, and he turned his way back to the table once she started to return. He couldn’t help being disappointed after having held her so close a moment ago, but he consoled himself with play acting and threw Ashemere an overly tragic sigh and wan smile. “I suppose I’m helpless to keep you from playing any way you want,” he conceded and gave a gesture for her to take a spot beside him. “Just remember to have some heart for me.” He was skilled at cheering himself, because a truer smirk was starting to shine through his pitiable display.
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