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 Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 2:20 pm
On her hands and knees, Firyal scrubbed at the kitchen floor, doing her best not to be underfoot. It was more difficult than one might think, considering how busy the kitchens at Ista Weyr could get, particularly in the weeks following a Hatching, when there were suddenly more voracious draconic mouths to feed. It was also more important to keep the floors clean, since the dragonets were too small to make their own kills, and had to be fed, then, pre-cut portions of raw meat and flesh. Much of the cutting took place in the kitchen, near the cold room to cut down on the smell and keep it from distressing the beasts whose turn to be food might be next, and that meant that there was lots of scrubbing to be done. It had been thus at the Weyr for as long as Firyal could remember, which was about six years.
She had been working on this task for the better part of the morning. Her fingerpads were wrinkled from soaking in the soapy water and her knuckles were bloodied from the floor's abrasion. Centuries of footfalls had worn the floor smooth, but with the force Firyal had to apply to get up some of the more deeply ingrained stains and splatters her knuckles tended to get scraped. It stung, and made her temper fray, but at least the relatively mindless task allowed Firyal to concoct the stories that so amused her and kept her life from seeming so monotonous.
The story she was presently working on was about a young man who raced runnerbeasts. He had a history of stunning victories, but only when riding a particular beast, which didn't belong to him. It used to belong to him, but due to a recent error in judgment he had been forced to surrender ownership of the beast to someone who was blackmailing him. He still raced on the beast, but half of all his winnings went to the runnerbeast's owner. She was trying to figure out what, exactly, he had done, that he was being blackmailed, when her bronze flit, Numenor, landed gingerly on the edge of her bucket to give her scant warning that someone was coming.
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Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 3:05 pm
Sonya had become a walking sack of meat, at least as far as she was concerned. Going about her normal day, she had run down the market to see if she could do any errands in exchange for a little money or some good. Sometimes out of good nature, she would offer her help without payment of any kind except maybe a brief 'thank you' or 'well done'. Today she had been given a rather 'special' job though, one she didn't really enjoy, but curiousity stopped her from declining it. One of the local butchers had asked her to deliver some uncut meat to Ista Weyr, apparently for Weyrling's to cut up themselves. There was a brief mention of lessons but she didn't take in too much after having a heavy sack dropped on her lap, giving her a bruise just from the weight. (At least no-one would see that but herself). As soon as Sonya left the market place, she started muttering to herself about the pain since there was no-one she knew along the way. Also, she had learned that being negative did have its good points, such as being left alone to concentrate on the task at hand. Today though, negativity hadn't really done a lot for her.
Up the sack was heavied only to be dropped a few times for the young candidate to get her breath. It wasn't that she wasn't fit, just hadn't worked with weights before now. Luckily it wasn't long she reached her destination. Sonya dropped the sack by feet and stretched out before even glancing in what she knew would be the kitchen. A little blood seeped through the sack leaking out onto the floor. Evidently she had damaged the contents in her travels, though it shouldn't matter too much, blood in a kitchen serving dragons would be perfectly normal and cleaned up rather quickly, if at all.
It was at that point Sonya noticed Firyal and her companion. She smiled a little realising that she really didn't have the worst task in the world, and at least hers was done for now. Normally she would turn tail and head straight back for a small reward, but today was a little different, and as far as she was concerned, that wasn't going to change any time soon. "Hi...want me to move this somewhere else for the time being, its a delivery from Neuvor down the marketplace" she offered.
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Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 3:52 pm
Firyal looked up sharply when another girl came in carrying a heavy sack of what looked and smelled like meat. The blood that seeped from the sack confirmed it. The blood that seeped from the sack to the floor. Firyal's eyes narrowed with whatever emotion could be considered the very opposite of amusement. It wasn't powerful enough to be called fury, but it was definitely a variation on displeasure.
Numenor, past the age where his hunger was constant, but always interested in being fed, fluttered over to the sack and regarded it intently. Cocking his head so that he could keep one eye on Sonya, Numenor flicked his tongue out to taste the puddle of blood. His manner amused Firyal enough to keep her from lashing out with the full extent of her ire at the other girl, who she thought might be a Candidate. She'd given up keeping track of them a few years ago.
"Yes, that might be nice. Maybe you could move it into the kitchen," she suggested acerbically.
Numenor cheeped an inquiry at her, projecting empathic Hunger feelings toward her. He wanted to know if he was allowed to eat any of the food the girl had brought in. She sent a swift mental negation to him and he directed a piteous creel toward Sonya, hoping maybe she would give in to his persuasive abilities.
"Don't feed him," she added sharply, just in case the Candidate thought she could endear herself to Firyal by buttering up her firelizard.
It wouldn't work anyway. Numenor was definitely a one-person flit. He would take handouts from anyone, but that didn't mean he'd show them any affection, and anyone who tried to pet him or handle him was likely to end up with nasty scratches. Every so often she got it into her head to try to dissuade him from behaving so aggressively, but she always decided that it wasn't fair for her to try to change her firelizard's nature.
As she issued her sharp words, she pointedly picked up her bucket and relocated so that she could scrub away the new blood that was forming a puddle on the floor once the sack of meat was relocated. She made no effort to disguise her irritation. She had been nearly finished.
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Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:19 pm
If disgust and irratation could appear as say a mist, it was almost certain you could cut striaght through it with a butterknife. What was her problem? She had only asked where she wanted it put...her job was deliver it to the hold, not carrying it all the way to the kitchen, that was just an act of good will. Ah well, she was obviously in a bad mood, after all, she was mopping up the remains of animals. Who new a little more would make such a difference?
Once again she lifted the sack, this time bringing it up into her arms so she could place it on one of the tables near storage. A table should be a lot easier to clean than the floors, less back ache. She shudder slightly almost dropping the sack striaght back down as the blood started to run down her arms. Sonya moved swiftly to the otherside of the room avoiding tripping over the other female or walking into the path of the obviously hungry flit. Looking behind her at the two she dumped the sack on the table, almost letting it fall to ground. She muttered a few things to herself as she corrected its positioning.
"I wasn't going to, it would be quite rude, implying you couldn't feed him yourself, but im sure your busy" she replied in a slightly cheerier tone than the one used with herself. If it wasn't for the tension in the air, and the girls attitude, she might of slipped the Flit a little something, but she wasn't going to admit that now. Instead of feeding him, she just avoiding looking in his direction, as to be honest, she was soft-hearted when it came down to animals.
With her arms relaxed the blood was now starting to run back down to her hands. The tingling sensation soon sent Sonya hurrying to the sinks. There was nothing worse than dried blood, especially when it wasn't even your own. She hurridly fumbled with the taps until the water ran, and then started the process of cleaning herself up.
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Posted: Thu Mar 26, 2009 8:18 am
Firyal watched as the Candidate moved the sack to a more convenient place. She couldn't imagine what a Candidate was doing running errands from Hold to Weyr. That was what drudges were for, end even though Candidates were often put to work, it was rarely that sort of work. She'd observed that the Weyr's preference was to keep Candidates close by so that they could become familiar with Weyrlife and especially the dragons. It had taken her months to grow accustomed to the great beasts' constant presence.
"I am busy, but he's hardly as hungry as he makes out. His eyes'll tell you the truth of it. They're not anywhere close to orange." She didn't know how much this particular Candidate knew of dragons or their smaller cousins, firelizards.
Numenor looked up from his tasting, sensing that his human was irritated. He could tell she wasn't irritated with him, and so he didn't take too much notice. But just to be safe he abandoned the blood and alighted gracefully on her shoulder, wrapping his tail around her neck like a bronze collar. He rubbed against her cheek, reassuring her that everything was going to be all right: he was there. She skritched his eyeridges absently, letting him use his empathy to improve her mood. She didn't have to be unkind to the Candidate.
"Look. It's just that I've been at this all morning and if you had shown up a sixteenth of a candlemark later I wouldn't have cared because I would have been finished and it would have been somebody else's problem. Bad luck for both of us, I suppose."
As she said this, Firyal knelt with her scrub brush and began to work on the newest mess. It occurred to her at some point that she should probably ask the Candidate's name, but she didn't think it would turn out to be important. There were so many of them, and so few Impressed, it wasn't really worth her while to learn their names or histories. So, while it might be the polite thing to do, she was still up in the air as to whether she'd do it or not.
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Posted: Thu Mar 26, 2009 11:36 am
Sonya was a little shocked at the sudden change of heart. After being so bitter with her, why bother explaining about her pet or what shes been doing, why not let her leave in gloomy silence? For a few minutes she just listened to water splash against her arms until it the redish colour faded from her pale skin. Well, its not like she could leave striaght away, it was bad enough to leave on negative terms, but to be fault of them was even worse. Looked like she would need to find some way to redeam herself. She grabbed a cloth and roughly rubbed her hands and arms dry before speaking.
"Im sorry, I just wanted the job over and done with, its not in my normal line of work. Erm, do you want a little help with now i've made you work a little longer?" she asked a little nerviously. Sonya left it too long to ask more on the flit, but if the other female got talking, maybe she could presuade her to show around the place a bit.
Although Sonya had been told, she was welcome to stay at the Weyr and familarise herself, she had been a little fearful at what she had seen. Without any knowleage of how the place worked, it all seemed chaotic, not anything to the slow pace back home. The only problem with staying home was, that over time, they would just assume she was too nervious to decline the offer striaght off. That certainly wasn't the case, if anything Sonya wanted to stay here as long as possible, learning everything and anything she could. There was no other talent to her name, simply, Sonya was a jack of all trades, a master of none.
Putting on a fake smile, Sonya grabbed a scrubbing brush all the same and dipped it in the tub, ready for scrubbing away. She moved swiflty to the other side of the bloody puddle, so not too near to the other female. Afterall, she could turn on her at any given moment.
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 8:16 am
One of the things Firyal definitely did not want was to work shoulder to shoulder with this Candidate. Particularly not this Candidate, who rubbed her the wrong way so easily. And who was out of the Weyr for whatever reason. She shouldn't have been making deliveries from Hold to Weyr. Had no one told her that? And it was morning. There were lessons for Candidates in the mornings, if Firyal recalled correctly. She should have been attending those.
"I can relate to wanting to have jobs done and over with," she said ruefully, "but I think I can handle this one without your assistance."
The look which accompanied Firyal's refusal of assistance suggested that she was not fooled by Sonya's smile, and presently not in the best of moodes. It was probably wise of Sonya to keep her distance. Not because Firyal would ever lash out at her physically. The problem was more with Numenor, who was an empathic little beast and occasionally acted on her more violent instincts when she would not. She had to be careful to keep him in check, or else he gave away her emotions when she would rather others remain in ignorance on that count.
Numenor, fortunately, remained precariously balanced on her shoulder, digging into her shoulder with his hindclaws and beginning to pull hair from her braid with his foreclaws. He crooned soft, soothing things in her ear as he destroyed her hairstyle. He was curious about the Candidate who still smelled faintly of food, but he would not investigate without Firyal's say-so. He was actually very well-trained.
"Who told you that you were supposed to be running errands?" she asked. "You have duties as a Candidate that don't include that sort of drudgework. You should see the Candidatemaster about that."
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Posted: Sat Mar 28, 2009 6:17 am
At the females reply, Sonya gave the brush a underarm throw only just landing it in the basket. It hurt her arm a little after the carrying but she was quite proud at the shot. A couple months earlier there was no chance of getting anywhere near the target. She now hardly ever missed on short distances, but the other girl was really starting to get on her nerves. Who would decline such an other so quickly...she wasn't just a little kid that had broken a plate or something, it was just a little blood.
Sonya quickly lost her smile (even though it was fake) as the convasation continued. Not only was this one stroppy, but nosey as well. They didn't even know each other and she was already asking what she was doing and telling her what to do without even a response. There was no way that someone scrubbing floors could have any athority over her. Alas though, even though she was very mean about it, the girl did have a point. By now, Sonya proberly should of given up all the ways of her old life and consentrated on the new, even if it was all for nothing she would need to think about a new way of life afterwards. It was still going to pretty hard to drop all her old habits.
"It really dosn't matter, that job is over now unlike yours" she snapped. "I think I'll go now, im obviously not wanted here." Sonya paused for a few seconds looking for anything else she might want to mention before she left, either for the market or to indeed go look for the Candidatemaster. Why hadn't she ever thought of going there before? "Also, in the name of drudgework, I really think you don't have it any better than myself"
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Posted: Tue Mar 31, 2009 11:06 am
It was difficult for Firyal to remember the sense of disorientation and alienation she had experienced initially after she was sent to Ista Weyr as a fosterling. She'd lived at Ista for six years, and now the everyday routines and habits of the weyrfolk seemed as natural to her as breathing. Many times she managed to forget completely that she had ever lived anywhere else, and with an imagination as powerful as hers, it wasn't hard for her to convince herself that was the way she remembered things because it was true. This was why it was sometimes difficult for her to sympathise with Candidates who felt out of place at the Weyr.
Assuming the Candidates didn't irk her, as this one did. She really could find no logical reason to dislike the girl, besides the fact that she had been thoughtless and heedless on one occasion. Firyal had not even interacted with the girl enough to know if this was an aberration, and she didn't care to, even if it was irrational of her. She would never claim to be a good judge of people in the general sense, but she was usually a good judge when it came to determining which people she would never be able to do more than tolerate, if that. This Candidate fell into that category.
Had the Candidate refrained from making her last remark, Firyal probably would have continued to bite back the truly sharp words that came to mind. However, Firyal got the impression that this Candidate truly knew nothing of how a Weyr was run, and it seemed evident that she'd been around long enough to feel comfortable being short-tempered, which meant there'd been no effort on the girl's part to acclimate to her new environment. Not that adaptation was one of Firyal's strong points, and, in fact, she was one who resisted change much of the time, but she found that trait irritating, both in herself and others.
"There are degrees of drudgery, and while I'm scrubbing blood of the floor of a Weyr kitchen, the only way you'll ever rise to doing anything more useful than that is if one of the present riders takes you to his bed. I've been here for a number of Hatchings, and I can tell you'll be going home after the next one, so maybe you should start flirting with some riders."
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