Who

Mayte, Aveshin

What

Mayte meets the new Candidate in the Kitchens. Turns out, he's already making a name for himself.

When

19th day, fifth month, first Turn, 12th Pass

Where

Igen Weyr Kitchens

OOC Date

 

mayte_default.jpg aveshin_default.jpg

igenkitchens.jpg

Kitchens

Chaos and anomie reign in this hub of food production. It's not so much the smell, which varies from 'faintly edible' to 'coal', as the film of grease that adds a sheen to every surface and glues canine hair to the wall. The area is well set up, of course — it's a large kitchen with more than adequate counter space. There's plenty of room to get around, too, even with the centralized canine spit run dominating the center of the floor. The place is just, well, not 'up to code'. Several large stoves belch smoke that chars the blocked chimney's outer brick. Unidentifiable bits of food have been baked to the floors and ground in by the uncaring trod of drudge shoes. Even the sink is crusty, with it's constant tower of filthy dishes and lack of cleansing sand to be seen anywhere. Add in the bloodied smears on cutting boards and what you have is a monument to cross contamination.


It's loud in the kitchens, even after the dinner rush has subsided. Now, instead of the urgent calls of cooks needing seasonings, it's the clang and bang of cookware getting cleaned, creating an all-new and exciting racket. Mayte sits, for once, at the end of the line of cleaning, snagging a fork every so often or a spoon when it occurs, and… polishing it. Eyeing the thing critically and giving it another swipe of a clean towel. No fingerprint shall stain her handiwork (apart from her own). When finished, the girl picks up a soupspoon to repeat. SHine, you little bastard.

Such a crowd! Aveshin isn't quite used to navigating the hustle and bustle yet, pausing frequently in his attempt to make it through the doorways and into the kitchen. "Oh. Excuse me. No, please..go on." A little dance ensues before he finally ends up on the other side, taking a breath of relief as he makes his way over to..Mayte. That's a candidate there if he ever saw one. Where one is, others should be, right? Both arms draw inward after nearly knocking into something else however, the healer looking quite uncomfortable by the time he actually stops moving entirely. "Ah, hello there. I do believe I'm meant to help out with all of this today. Ah! But I'm Aveshin, I don't believe I've seen you yet." There are, after all, /so/ many of those candidate-types running around the barracks!

Oh sure, there are Candidates lined up doing the rest of the washing, but in her concentration, Mayte isn't looking up at them. Polish polish POOOOLish. When there's an entirely new voice, Mayte peeks up just long enough to eye Aveshin curiously. Back down to the spoon to finish its polishing, polish, and only then is Mayte giving the other apprentice her attention, already reaching for another spoon: "Hey. You're the new guy." There's a long enough pause, and Mayte continues, "Mayte. I heard you came in." She holds out her polishing cloth until another apprentice hands over a drying rag with a subtle cough. "Well met," is what she says next, starting to sound a bit more human and polite.

Aveshin does look a touch..embarrassed. "Oh dear, there's talk when that happens?" Well, he /did/ come in and promptly throw Thierry off his cot onto the floor. Things like that might be..taken note of. "Ah..yes though. Came in from Igen River and still getting a bit used to this place." He moves aside somewhat, leaning and looking for another cloth to make use of. "You don't mind if I help out with that, do you?"

Mayte may be more polite now that her head isn't in the silver fumes (okay, let's be honest: this is Igen Weyr, it's not silver). She's still blinking a bit owlishly in surprise: "There's… always talk when a new person comes in." Explained in a slightly slower tone, but Mayte is rubbing an invisible spoon between fingers covered in cleaning cloth. Aveshin's offer has her pulling back, "Oh! Yeah, sure. We're cleaning the silver cuz we don't know when the eggs are gonna hatch." There's a slightly sly look, as Mayte supplies, "The Headwoman wants the silverware cleaned just in case it happens tonight, so the Lords 'n Ladies are eating off nice cutlery." A spoon gets purloined and Mayte starts the polishing process once again.

Aveshin does seem to consider that a moment, nodding. "I suppose it wouldn't be any different than a new apprentice at the hall.." He shrugs then, and moves to pluck up a piece of the silver, inspecting it before attempting to rub out a shine in it. "Ah, I see..I see. It's already that close.." There's a slight trailing off, before he shakes his head again, laughing. "Well. I do hope we won't disappoint them then. Did you come in from somewhere else too? Or did they usher you in from right here in the Weyr?"

Ooooh, poor Aveshin. Mayte bends a nearly pitying look on the poor boy, "It's exactly like that, except roughly half of us will be going home, disappointed." There's quiet from the girl for a moment, listening and nodding emphatically about the eggs. At the idea of disappointing the eggs, Mayte huhs, a little hesitantly. "Well. I'm sure the eggs won't be disappointed. Some of us, maybe," and there's a wry grin for which Mayte explains, "I've Stood before. Came off alone, though." There's a nonchalant shrug to finalize the point there.

Aveshin twiddles that bit of silver, laughing softly. "Well I did mean the Lords, but I suppose if we were a disappointment for the eggs it'd be a whole different thing." A very awkward thing. Once he determines his piece is shiny enough, he sets it aside, grabbing up another with a smile. "I've got the healercraft to go back to if I walk off alone. Already spent a good few turns learning there and all, so I don't think it'll be..so terrible. And even still—" Well he would finish. He would. Except there's a rider stomping into the kitchen to usher the candidates right out of it. There's little time for anything but tossing rags and cutlery aside as something is muttered about grubby hands on hard shells.

Add a New Comment