Chores gone awry

OOC Time: Tuesday, October 26th, 2010.
Season (North Continent): Mid-Winter.
Weather: It is mid-winter.
Current Location: Game Room (#14272) - Zone: Fort Weyr
Room Occupants:
Cabrien, Suian, Quaptyziel

Game Room (#14272J)
Distractions abound in the quirky underworld of the gameroom: checkers, dragonchess, parcheesi and Neratian stones compete for table space with tea-pots and klah mugs. Where the walls are not claimed by dart-boards, people have tacked up sketches, paintings, and the occasional needlepoint depicting scenes from around the Pern. Drinking is discouraged here (though encouraged upstairs), and a variety of curtains and moveable partitions allow guests to reformat the room on a regular basis. Baskets of scraps, knitting, leather and odd-socks allow people to keep busy and useful when not actively gaming.

It's sometime after his encounter with Eleni. Cabrien is still present, though has at last finished the bulk of his task. So he's now eating an actual meal as opposed to snacks. He's at the part where he's mopping up loose stew gravy with a thick chunk of bread. He eats quickly and methodolically, his eyes kept solely upon his meal.

Wrapped snugly in a serviceable, brown sweater, Suian still has a spot of dust on her nose and a smudge on the knee of her trousers, but save for those and the slightly messy 'tail she's pulled her hair into— unbraided, for a change —she's otherwise clean and presentable, finishing munching on something wrapped in a napkin as she rounds the doorway to the game room. Mouth pinching from content into a moue of distaste upon espying Cabrien, she's careful to head to the opposite side of the cavern, plopping down near one of the crafting baskets to frown doubtfully at a half-skein of yarn and a few knitting needles. Is it worth the trouble?

Cabrien is happily, blissfully ignorant of Suian up until he finishes his meal. It's when he's in the process of setting that scraped clean dish aside that he spies the frowning woman. He's a moment more before saying, "Got a whole bundle of socks here that you can sew since you got the time." As in: she had more of a right to than him.

Suian's chin lifts to give Cabrien a brief, icy stare. "Sew them yourself, " she retorts calmly, "or is that something you've managed to avoid thus far? I can assure you it isn't a terribly challenging task." Never mind that she isn't much good at it herself. With a little sniff, she rummages through the knitting supplies before emerging empty-handed, opting instead to crinkle her napkin into as tiny of a ball as she can manage.

"Funny." Deadpan, Cabrien says, "Seriously. The socks need to be sewed. I got all the one's matched up that were supposed to be but a lot of them have holes. Lady in the laundry said they had to be sewed." He begins gathering that pile into his arms, "It won't take you long. They're mostly small holes."

"A little sewing won't kill you, " replies Suian, raising an eyebrow at the other candidate. "If she told you to sew them, you should sew them. If the holes are really that small, then it won't take you all that long either, would it?" Bit by bit, that empty napkin is starting to shred in her hands.

"I don't sew." Cabrien again looks at Suian as if she were slow, and having an extremely hard time grasping the concept of her sewing the socks herself. "She said they had to be sewed, not that I had to. You're a candidate too so…. sew them." With all those socks in hand, he approaches Suian. "I thought you guys liked sewing anyways. What's the big deal?"

Quaptyziel sneaks his way into game room, and switches out the klah pitcher for a fresh one. He ducks back out, to return the emoty one to the kitchens, and then returns, giving a stretch. "Sewing? What's wrong with sewing?" He asks, as he hears Cabrien, and he nods to Eleni. "Evening ma'am." He greets.

Suian huffs an impatient breath as Cabrien approaches, folding her arms across her waist. "You're a candidate too, " she repeats for good measure, willful. "And despite what you apparently think, you don't have sufficient pull to order others around like bilgers on some fisher's boat. Besides, how are you going to survive being a weyrling if you can't do something simple like fix a couple of socks? I hear there's sewing involved there, too."

Cabrien's expression turns taunting. "You sound like a Harper." A beat, then, "I'll deal with it if I get there. 'till now, you're here and these socks need to be sewn. So sew them." He has the audacity to try and dump them in her lap, "And I'm not ordering. I'm delegating. That's something we get to do as weyrlings too." Quaptyziel gets a nod and a shrug, "Nothing? Just not somethin' I do."

Quaptyziel raises an eyebrow, and frowns. "She's right, though, you shouldn't be ordering her to sew them, when it's not her chore." He says, and moves to sit down nearby. "It wouldn't hurt you to learn it, I know how to sew." He admits, and he's not any less manly. "Other then being ordered about, how are you, Suian?" He asks her.

Getting to her feet in short order once those socks head toward her lap hopefully sends most of them to the floor instead, along with whatever might have remained of Suian's previously good mood. "And you, " she answers slowly, "sound like an arrogant little boy. I see why the girls flock to you. You have such a winning personality." Quaptyziel doesn't exactly get a smile, but the look he gets for his remarks is considerably softer than the ones she's been giving Cabrien. "Just fair, " she says with a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm finished for the day. Can't complain about that at all."

Cabrien steps back when those socks go tumbling, but doesn't even attempt to pick them up. Or give Quap anything more than an unimpressed frown. It extends to Suian as Cabrien shrugs and returns back to pile the remaining socks into the once empty basket.

Quaptyziel shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm finished for the day as well. They wanted me to change out the klah pot in here, and that was it." He admits, and eyes Cabrien. "Don't you know that you could in trouble, if you try passing your chore onto somebody else?" He asks the other boy. "Yeah, I'm doing well too, glad to have chores indoors, considering the weather." He replies to Suian, with a chuckle.

"A hardy boat sustains in all weathers, " Suian murmurs, seemingly undisturbed by Cabrien's subsequent frown. She's smoothing out what's left of the crumpled napkin, changing her motions from frenetic picking to smooth folds. Casually, "Would you like help with getting those back into the basket?"

"Not some slacker," Cabrien says placidly. "I did my part. Not my problem if she doesn't do hers." Whatever he so assumed was her part. He pauses though, at her offer. To which he says, "Not your problem now. I'll go find someone else to sew 'em. One of the other girls back in the barracks." He takes his half-full basket to where those paired socks are laying on the ground and proceeds to put them all back into the basket. Once he's finished there's an all-encompassing nod to Suian and Quap alike before he turns and sets off toward the barracks.

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