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 Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2014 6:35 am
Axel stared at Santos's personal outhouse, holding his bucket of soapy water tightly.
Cleaning was one of the few jobs on campus that Axel rather liked. It was a hell of a lot better than cooking, and infinitely better than dealing with horses. It was also one of the few jobs he felt qualified to tackle. After the legends of Zinnia's horrible haircuts spread, Axel had stayed far away from that particular duty. If cheerful Zinnia left people with bald spots, he would probably cut someone's head clean off their shoulders.
So. Cleaning. It was tedious and boring, but Axel kind of liked boring work, and you hardly ever got shouted at.
This cleaning assignment was different. It had come with a great deal of shouting. And despite his indifference towards dust, spiders, and splinters, Axel was really not eager to get up close and personal with Santos's personal outhouse.
"Well," Axel said, taking a hesitant step towards the open door. "It's better than the stables."
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2014 9:19 am
"This," she hissed. "is all yer fault." It wasn't, not really. It was mostly Preacher's fault. Ok, it was entirely Preacher's fault, but the short girl still glared up at Axel as though he'd committed a mortal sin. She wasn't so sure outhouses were better than the stables. Outhouses didn't bite, but they still smelled. She was not adverse to getting down and dirty, but the idea that Santo's naked a** had, in fact, existed in this outhouse was disgusting.
"Ya get ta go first, in case there's, like, gross shitbeasts in there." She placed her hands on the small of his back and pushed.
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Posted: Fri Sep 05, 2014 10:00 am
Wait a second, his fault? Axel narrowed his eyes, irritated. He was prepared to take their punishment with good grace, but it definitely wasn't his fault.
Axel took another step forward, his bucket sloshing as Preacher shoved him. The outhouse didn't smell great. Not at all. With a sigh of resignation, Axel edged into the dank little wooden building. A quick glance around revealed nothing overly disgusting. "No shitbeasts."
He tipped the bucket, sloshing soapy water over the bench where Santos's bare a** had sat. The thought was deeply unsettling. This. This was the outhouse where Santos retired to after perhaps eating some godawful pickled beet cake. This was the outhouse where Santos sat with his apparently pink panties around his ankles.
Thank you, gossip grapevine, for that mental image.
Axel sloshed some more water over the bench. Why couldn't they have been assigned to clean someone else's outhouse? Anyone else's outhouse?
"Okay. Now you scrub," Axel said.
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2014 7:21 am
Preacher shot him the nastiest look as she shouldered past him into the outhouse. It was just so much easier to make herself think that it was entirely Axel's fault. In all honesty, Preacher simply felt... tired all the time. She knew her life was good here (well, barring outhose duty), but it was an emotional rolelr coaster that she'd never had to encounter in her old life. Life in the slums was find food, get beaten, keep your head down. That was it. Preacher didn't wish for it back, but she felt very, very tired.
She cringed and bent, rag doubled, triple-folded around her hand. Her hair fell forward, almost touching the foul mess. "Ya still can't hit girls, but ya make 'em do all tha scrubbin', I see." As a taunt, it was very, very weak. But she was in a bad mood, the kind that drained most of the wit out of her.
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