Who

Mayte, tasna, Thierry, Yukie

What

Four Candidates discuss during evening chores. An easy solution to the smell of the Barracks is found from an unsuspected source.

When

13th day of the third month of the 12th Pass

Where

Igen Weyr Candidate Barracks

OOC Date

 

mayte_default.jpg Tas14.jpg thierry%2015.jpg yukie_26.png

igencandidatebarracks.jpg

Candidate Barracks

Hopes, dreams, and fears are contained in these cramped quarters, full of small cots and smaller trunks; thin ragged curtains barely provide privacy between the bunks, shining patches in the material suggesting one too many mending attempts. The minimal floor space is kept clear of debris and personal possessions, wide enough for a single broad table often used for study in the art of dragon care. Here, too, humidity has gathered into high corners, running down the walls and creating a slightly unpleasant atmosphere of damp and mildew. Near the entrance, one cubby exists, large enough to contain a bit of luxury for an adult overseer of the candidates, and a desk — for once in reasonable shape — is set to the left of the entrance, conveniently placed for the monitoring of comings and goings.


In the life of a Candidate, anything that makes chores go more easily is welcome. This is true from your co-Candidates, to the task at hand, to such un-influenceable things as the weather. Fortunately for Igen's Candidates, today has been slightly cool, but beautiful, so the chatter is a bit louder after dinner. Mayte, for one, sits on top of her bunk, furthest from the smell, and watches those returning from meal-time, a book open in her lap. In addition to the book? Folding laundry. "Y'know, I'd love to get my clothes perfectly uncreased, one time, just one time," she tells whoever is unfortunate enough to bunk nearby - a tow-headed boy who's trying to ignore her.

Thierry, happily, has no laundry to fold. Maybe someone's done it for him. It's girl-work anyway, so he probably doesn't even know /how/. Unlucky for him, he's close enough to Mayte to hear her complaining about the overly-domesticated task; his cot isn't /too/ far away from hers, and he's lying there on his back, pretending not to listen in as he tosses a pair of balled-up socks up and down, up and down. The improvised ball becomes an improvised missile as he launches it at Mayte, half-decent aim sending it on a possible collision course with the back of her head. "Oi." Propping himself up on his elbows, he glowers at her. "The fuck you whining about? Get some shit t' do it /for you/."

Which is when Tasena enters, ahead of a small gaggle of other candidates. She watches the socks fly, then flicks a gaze between Thierry and Mayte as she heads for her own cot. "I don't like other people touching my clothes," she comments idly as she takes a seat on her trunk. "You never know what they've done to them between the washing and you wearing them. Too much room for…" Mischief? "Error."

Funny thing about girl-work - girls aren't any better at it than boys: "I mean, seriously," Mayte continues, "It's like I couldn't keep a bit of fabric straight while folding it over, so there's always creases in my tunics. And no, I don't really care." Eyeroll at the tow-headed boy who hasn't actually said anything. The offense-socks sort of skid by Mayte's head, giving her cause to drop the pants in her hands and scowl at Thierry: "Least I don't have to get someone to do it for me." Tasena's the fortunate interruption, Mayte's glower whipping around only to relax at the taller woman. "Exactly. I mean, the number of times I nearly dyed someone else's white things grey cuz of my black stuff?" There's a gleam in those dark eyes for a moment, a little curl of the lips before Mayte says smoothly, "It's just… so easy."

"Pffft." That's what Thierry thinks of /that/, sitting up properly to swing his legs around, bare feet hitting the floor. "Never, /ever/ washed clothes. Never, /ever/ had 'em fucked up by someone else. You just dunno what the fuck you're doing." He shrugs and rolls his eyes, standing up to barefoot-pad around to where he can properly see Mayte, instead of being behind her. Not that it's a bad view from back there. Some younger candidate is shooed off his cot so Thi can flop down on it, in a much better position for watching both Tasena and the former Vintner. "Dunno you," he says to Tas, checking her out with a head-to-toe and back again flicker of his dark eyes.

"I may have added something to someone's shorts once," Tasena shares, innocently studying the fingernails of her left hand for a moment. "By accident, of course." And now the right. Satisfied, she draws a foot up to perch on the edge of her trunk and loosely wraps her arms around her shin, hands dangling. "The washing part… gotta admit, I don't do that unless I'm in a hurry. May as well stick your hands in a sand dune. That soap is harsh." Her gaze slides toward Thierry momentarily, though that is all, then she looks to Mayte again. "I heard we get to start up dragon anatomy classes and stuff like that soon. Beats chores, right?"

Wait. Mayte starts folding her pants again, looking over to follow Thierry with narrowed eyes (which will inevitably lead to more wrinkled pants, according to her by-touch folding), "So. You don't wash your clothes. And you don't have them screwed up by someone else." There's a pause for this to sink in, then, "So, does your laundry even get done?" Her nose wrinkles a little in time with an audible sniff and 'ew' face. But you know what's more interesting than laundry? Dragons. Mayte turns back to Tasena, "Ooh, really?" Pants are all but forgotten now, "That'd be a lot more fun. Are we gonna be up next to a real live dragon?" What other kinds are there?

There's chaos and then there's calm; Yukie is the epitome of all that is calm and tranquil as she steps lightly around everyone else doing their chores or whatnot in the barracks. Her entrance is anticlimactic and unassuming, the basket in her hands showing signs of wear though the wicker is well taken care of. Long blond hair is loosely woven into a plait with tendrils framing a thoughtful expression. Maybe she pauses to collect an idea of what the others are doing, though her ultimate destination is her bed.

"Oi." Thierry fixes Tasena with a frown when she totally ignores him. "I /said/, I dunno you. You're /meant/ to say shit back." He looks side-on at Mayte, shrugging. "Course it does. I put it out, it comes back." Shrug. Laundry fairies, duh. "You wanna come /here/ and smell my tunic?" Or, don't bother - he's getting up to come to /you/. Thierry leans right in close to Mayte, so she can get a /proper/ smell of him. It's not too bad, really, though he's certainly not been rolling in Saci's perfumes. Hi, Mayte. He's just gonna hang on out by you and your clean clothes, now, as he plonks himself down on the cot beside her. "Who's /she/?" He points to Tasena, fixing the older candidate with a look. "And her?" Newly-entered Yukie also gets a point.

"That's funny," Tasena drawls back toward Thierry with a lazy little grin on her face. "That implies you're concerned about things like manners and etiquette, yet your words and behavior say otherwise." She turns back toward Mayte and shrugs her bony shoulders. "I don't know, it's just what I heard earlier today when I was washing up. They had me scrubbing out some old cast iron stuff from some traders. I was black from head to toe for a while there. Don't worry," she adds, glancing up at the passing Yukie, "I used the lake after, not the baths." She breaks off to watch Thierry's progress toward Mayte. Her grin has definitely disappeared by the time he's leaning in. She glances toward Mayte, no longer all that relaxed, going by the fists her hands have slowly curled to form.

Since Thierry's question wasn't directed at her, but about her, Yukie doesn't answer but instead sets her stuff down on her cot and begins sorting it out. Poultices, herb packets, etc, all spill out of her basket. She shoots a glance at Thierry leaning in towards Mayte with a considering look. "Used the lake after what?" she politely, quietly inquires of Tasena, a touch of a smile lingering on her lips. Having come into the conversation in the middle, Yukie attempts to catch ahold of the ends of the topic threads. "I think some distance is probably prudent with our keeper's eyes watching us," her response is gentle, but yet carries something within, even if the words are confusing. Though, Igen has spies everywhere!

The calm passing through the vicinity of argument has Mayte pause to watch Yukie for a moment, ignoring Thierry's tunic-scent until it's unavoidable: "Ugh, shove off!" the dark-haired Candidate replies, shrugging away from the Bazaar boy, "And get off my cot. Go use…" A wave of hand indicates the cot of the boy next to Mayte who's thankfully evacuated the area, "That one." And as if she's going to make it easy for Thierry: "Why not ask them politely?" Mayte's voice is pointed pique, "They seem nice enough, if you're polite to start with. And no, 'hey you' doesn't count." Does she know? Doesn't she? Mayte's not telling directly, instead turning to look at Tasena again, "Ew, the cast-iron pots in the kitchen?? That stuff is gross!" Look of utter sympathy to her. And then in a voice meant to carry Yukie-wards: "Yukie! What's your worst chore so far?" Oops.

Thierry's quite comfortable where he is for the moment, Mayte, thank you. Her scolding suggestions cause him to frown at her, while he pushes his hair back from his brow, leaving it in a floppy mess. "Coulda asked a /whole lot/ ruder than I did." He looks briefly to Tasena, clocking her offensive - defensive? - body language. A crooked curl of a smile tweaks at the corner of his mouth, and he looks fixedly at her fists, slowly raising his gaze to try and meet hers. "Not needed," he says with quiet, saccharine sarcasm, with a little shake of his head. "Oi. You. /Yukie/. Never seen /you/ before, either." Thi picks at one of the ex-Vintner's folded items of clothing, then smoothes out what could be a crease in it. Maybe he's /helping/. Or sitting there for a passive laundry education.

Tasena starts to answer Yukie, then grins as Mayte fills in the rest. "Those," she says, quickly adding, "though these are going to be added to the kitchens eventually, I think. They came from a caravan after about a hundred Turns of use, by the look of them." Or, y'know, just a decade or two. She gives the healer-turned-candidate another smile. "So much char build-up. I had to sand them off so someone can season them later. If nothing else, I probably doubled their value," she says, gaze falling to the stuff that was in Yukie's basket. "Oh! Oh hey, I was supposed to ask for something for the scrapes I got on my hand from the sanding. Did you have something like that, or should I swing by the infirmary?" There, promise fulfilled. Her attention swings back toward Mayte and Thierry then before she gets to her feet. "The lady said to shove off, or should I see if they'll exchange your knot for some time in the brig?" Her eyes flick down toward that clothing. "Besides, I thought you didn't do laundry."

"Worst chore?" Yukie's quiet query flows easily around the drama brewing between Thierry and Mayte as she answers easily, "I don't really have a worst chore. Everything we do, if we do it with grace and remember that there are people who cannot scrub the char off pots or walk to carry the laundry, then I rejoice in whatever menial task I am assigned. For the strength in my limbs and the sharpness of my mind." Dabbling a bit of water into a tiny glass pot, she mixes in a lovely smelling pinch of crushed herb. Some thickening powder, and a little more water with a little more stirring, and it's ready for Tasena. "Use it every three hours tonight, bind your cuts, and tomorrow they should be well enough to be unbound, providing they are minor." As for Thierry, Yukie merely smiles, "I am a Journeyman Healer here in Igen and have been here some two or three turns now."

"Amazing," drawls Mayte, "I coulda sworn Yukie's been here," an apologetic flash of eye to the aforementioned, then back to Thierry, "At least a seven-day. Maybe you were… occupied." Thus ends Mayte's sickly sweet retort with a shooing handwave off her cot. Tasena's report on the state of cast-ironing gets a wrinkled nose, "Seasoning… Like, salt and pepper?" Then, inspiration strikes, "Or is it like seasoning the wood for an aging cask?" Yukie's reply earns the healer-cum-Candi a long look and then unaccountably, Mayte huffs: "Okay, you have a point. But, I mean, rejoicing?" Little impatient wherry that Mayte is, she presses one further, "There's no task you don't enjoy?" Double negative! Idle hands haven't actually been idle: they've been dumping all of Mayte's laundry, folded or not, onto the foot her trunk. Job: done, for now.

"The /lady/," Thierry looks from Tasena to Mayte, with a crooked smile, "can take care of herself. Can'tcha, Mayte?" He clicks his tongue, reaching out to gently elbow her. They're bazaar-buddies… in the loosest sense of the term. "An' I'm not /doing/ laundry. I'm /watching/ laundry." Big difference there, Tasena! Thierry snorts at Mayte, shrugging his shoulders. "D'you know how many new fucking faces are around here? Can't remember 'em all, even if they look like that." Which could be a compliment. He bats at her shooing hand with his rough fingers, but he does get up to stand between cots with his hands dug deep into his pockets - to gawk at Yukie for her response to such a simple question. Gawk… and then laugh. Not a cruel laugh, per se… more a laugh of disbelief. "What the fuck you on, lady? Would've just said shovelling shit or something like that. Betcha don't rejoice in /that/ now, do you?"

Tasena's attention is pulled toward Yukie despite the continuing presence of Thierry. "Grace and joy," she murmurs, suddenly trying (and failing) to fight back a teeny tiny grin that is not at all made easier by Thierry's laugh, as her attention jumps toward him briefly, then back to the healer. "Yukie, if we had ten more of you, you'd, like… melt away all this sharding mildew and stuff they make us sleep in," she comments wryly with a wave toward those weeping walls. That hand is then turned toward herself a moment, palm downward, then she shows some of the small abrasions on her knuckles to Yukie. "Should be all right… right? Thanks a ton," she adds when she takes the offered glass pot. She studies the contents for a moment before turning back to Mayte. "I think like the casks, yeah. Though metal… shells, I don't know exactly," she admits. Seeing that Thierry has at least backed off a little bit, she goes back to sitting on her trunk and starts dabbing some of Yukie's concoction on her scrapes.

"You," Yukie's tone is never ruffled, the serene smile touching the corners of her lips and the limpid pools of her blue-green eyes set easily upon Thierry, "Would not understand. There is nothing so menial that no redeeming quality can't be found within. If I shoveled shit, then I would shovel shit glad that we have the beasts to make the offal and thus our plates would be full. The suffering of those outside the weyr is far more detrimental than these pitiful chores could ever be to use. They make us strong and ready for a possible lifemate." That answers both Thierry's and Mayte's question, really, so the girl turns to Tasena. "Make sure to clean it really well and pour some cheap liquor on it to take the germs out. Apply the salve and tomorrow you should be fine." Tucking away the things in her basket, she gathers up a large book and hikes the length of white skirts, "If you'll excuse me, I bid you a good evening." Someone's gotta study! And with that, Yukie deftly exits, stage left!

No touchy! Mayte doesn't exactly recoil from Thierry's elbowing but her shoulders draw tight and she stiffens. "And now you're not," re: laundry. See, just a book left, which the ex-Vintner rests her hands on. An impatient huff at Thierry's call to the healer, but instead of replying Mayte gives the glass in Tasena's hand a curious, long glance: "S'it just good for scrapes, or any small thing?" But Mayte's waited too long and Yukie's ducking out the door. So much Zen gets a wide-eyed stare from dark eyes, the tongue rendered dull for a moment. A long moment after, it recovers: "I thought we were gonna be getting someone with soaps in to deal with the smell? Or would something to sop up the mildew work? Like with runner stalls?"

"Vinegar." Thierry watches Yukie's exit with unhidden confusion. "What the /fuck/ is with her?" Then, to prove he wasn't randomly spouting out condiments, he looks back to Mayte and shrugs. "Wash it with vinegar. You don't like mildew? That'll kill the shit outta it. Soap won't do shit." Looking back in the direction Yukie went, Thierry shakes his head. "She's a fucking /fruit loop/, man. Weird as." Tasena gets a quick, squinty-eyed look - mostly to see if she's still got those fists curled, then he looks back to Mayte. "You get those pretty paws on some vinegar, lady, and we'll," yes, he said /we/, "scrub the shit outta these walls, yeah?" From out of his pocket he pulls his packet of tokes, extracting one to stick behind his ear. "Going for some air," is his farewell as he turns to saunter out, presumedly towards the great outdoors.

Tasena has a quick "oh" in regard to Yukie's further instructions as she glances from the glass pot in her lap to the cuts that already shine slightly with the stuff she's already applied. "I'll do that!" she calls toward the healer's retreating back while Tas recaps the glass pot and pulls out her handkerchief to start wiping away the ointment. Oops. "She has a point," she murmurs before glancing over at Mayte and Thierry, though a small, crooked grin starts to appear again. "I've known her ever since we all joined this time, and she still makes my head spin a little bit," she shares in a mild tone, though by the time she's done speaking, her grin is clearly an amused one. "As for that smell, why not vi…" Her words are cut off by Thierry's condiment spewing. A moment later she adds, "Back at Gar, it's what they used when the cider season was done. I mean… the smell will just come back, but vinegar is easy." There's a pause, then she glances up from her hands to regard Thierry for a long moment. "I should probably head to the infirmary for some of that alcohol Yukie mentioned." Though she stays right where she is, waiting until Thierry is gone. "For all his complaints about laundry earlier, he knows about vinegar?" the woman muses in a dry voice.

And then there were two… right? Mayte look a little relieved to be flying solo on her bunk again, but Thierry's declaration of a sour condiment gets a faint look of alarm from her: just what is he on about now?" Little else is heard from Thierry's rant but Mayte does have enough presence of mind to nod at the idea of another chore. Still, she turns quickly to Tasena when the boy departs, mouthing, 'Vinegar' at her. Outrageous. Who knew he had skills? And then, pause: "Did you know that too?" Still, Tasena's not subjected to the same suspicious stare that Thierry was, while Mayte's fingers gently flip at the pages of her book, "What would be worse, mildew smell, or vinegar?"

Tasena laughs softly and shrugs, then glances around the room. "It does fade after a while, unlike the mildew. Maybe we should set that guy the task of fanning the place all day long." She gives the worst spot of mildew a nose-wrinkled look, then turns back to Mayte, laughing. "It really does work. Or we could burn incense, or… well. Then we're just back to the craptastic ventilation, aren't we?" She grins across at the other candidate, then gets to her feet. "I'd better go do like Yukie said. I vote, if that guy bugs you again, just knee him in the groin and hit him in the face with your book." She winks at Mayte and tosses off a casual salute before making her way to the corridor.

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