Trill and Ielyzity Mess up the Kitchens

It's currently late winter on the northern continent. The Starsmiths say it is 12 Turns and 17 days into the 10th Pass. It is afternoon at Fort Weyr. The vault of sky is still empty, freezing cold.

Characters: Trill, Ielyzity
Summary: Stealing a ladle from the kitchens while avoiding El Groucho the cook

Kitchen (#529J)
A complex array of scents suffuses this mammoth cavern, lightened by the trace of fresh breeze that passes through the vents from the Bowl. The smooth stone walls have been whitewashed to a tall man's reach, and along that line stretches a knotwork design painted in bright hues reminiscent of Fort Hold's Great Hall — and from there soars the elaborate vault that is the ceiling.
All this expanse of cavern is seemingly constantly in motion, thanks to the hordes that work here; hearths built into the base of natural chimneys run all along the walls of the kitchen while in the center stand areas for cutting and preparing meals, all fairly smothered in activity. Drudges scurry past on their innumerable duties, while the head cook Grizelda stalks about tasting this, adding spices to that, and looking perennially dissatisfied even with this splendid array of food. A broad tunnel leading to a complex of 'storage' rooms lies to the east, while to the south is the opening to the great staircase and the rest of the caverns.
Obvious exits:
Stairs

Ielyzity comes up the imposing flight of stairs.

For once Ielyzity isn't in the kitchens looking for her next bubbly pie that early afternoon. She's there /working/, judging by the scowl on face and her arms up in suds as she tries to get rid of some of the tougher stains on the pots and pans piled up beside her. Throwing the occasional glare towards the smug cooks, likely some that knew her from before. "This is impossible," she hisses more to herself, pulling out a pot from the water with a dark burnt ring and a rag she's using to scrub.

Trillian is also working. Le sigh. She's at the sink next to Iely but instead of pots, is washing some bowls and plates. "Sometimes I wish there could be a heavy duty soap," she offers, "But I am not sure how to concoct one. Maybe a healer would know? I also wonder what it is people are /eating/ that gets so black and crusted like this." She wrinkles her nose as another load is thrown into her sink and some droplets splash her cheek.

Ielyzity tilts the pan so that Trillian can see the stain better. "I think it's bad cooks, not bad food." And Zity makes sure to say this loud enough for her voice to carry to the nearby cooks, earning several glares in return. "Would Healers know 'bout stuff for pans, though? Maybe the Smiths might have something. We can just toss 'em in the forge and make new ones. Sharding pain." Scrubscrub. She tries to scratch at some of it with her nails, making a face. "And it's boring too. You're into making stuff. Bet you can get out of chores if you make them something to get this stuff off." She shoves the pan back into the water, ignoring it for another one to clean.

Trillian peers at the pan and grabs a knife, sticking it in there tentatively. "It doesn't even come off with a knife? Well I suppose Smiths could make a new pot, especially out of an old pot, but it would save effort if the old ones lasted longer." A grouchy older cook leans over and snatches the knife from Trill's hands, "If ye can't use it right, ye can't use it at all," he mutters, depositing it into yet another sink. After he is not within earshot, Trill mutters, "I wonder if he sat on a knife and that is why his disposition leaves some too be desired." She rolls her eyes. Suddenly another load is dumped in her area, just full of utensils, plates and ladles. *gasp*.

"Haven't tried a knife," admits Ielyzity, wincing at the sound of metal scraping against metal. She shakes off some suds from her hands, eyeing the cook that took away the knife and sticking her tongue out at his back. "Or maybe he thinks us candidates will rebel against the cooks cause their food is that awful. You know, I wonder if they're trying to poison us, less candidates to worry about you know?" Unfortunately, Zity doesn't care about being nice enough to keep her voice down, only when she is mumbling about all the scrubbing. She pauses in her scrubbing, eyes locked on the new load in Trillian's sink. "So… cleaning… bet they have to toss out a lot of stuff at the end of the day cause they're impossible to clean. Right?"

Trillian laughs, "The food tends to go up and down in quality. Odds are it just depends on who is on duty that day, I think. Or if they are training new staff." Scrub scrub. She too eyes the ladle, but says nothing for the time being, as El groucho comes back and frowns, watching them closely before moving off to attend a roast. "I think they do have to toss out alot of stuff at the end of the day." Her eyes glimmer with ideas and possibilities. Plotting is afoot. Mwa haha.

Ielyzity ponders those words for a few moments before she bobs her head in agreement. "That could be it. Mom bakes, and her stuff is usually really good." She waves a sud-soaked hand in the general direction of the ovens, even if there is no woman over there currently. "So I know the pies and rolls are always really good, it's just this gunk." And she emphasizes gunk right as the grouchy cook returns, flashing her best Weyrbrat grin at him. She scoots a bit closer to Trillian, as if to reach for another rag near the girl. "You're tall. Tucking it into your pants under your shirt… You can easily hide something that they're /bound/ to toss out," she notes, actually managing to keep her voice down.

"THE PIES AND ROLLS are always good," Trill says, in overly loud tones, eliciting headshakes from El Groucho. But thankfully he moves off to bring something out to the caverns and is not within earshot. In the meantime, Trill fishes out a small hammer from her pants pocket and 'washes' it with one rather battered ladle, sufficiently bending the handle a bit. El Groucho comes back just in time for Trill to hold up said ladle, it is obviously junk now. A scowl, "Missy, get /out/ of my kitchens!" he utters with a booming voice, massaging his temples. Oh those candidates. Trill wastes no time in grabbing her hammer, the ladle and running the heck /out/ of there.

"/Always/ good," Ielyzity agrees with Trillian nice and loud, sticking her best big cheesy grin towards the man. Likely that earns her a total of zero brownie points, still. "What are you doing?" she asks, staring at the hammer when it emerges, all wide-eyed and curious. When the handle is bent, she has to stifle a giggle and leap away when grouchyman returns. "Hey, don't leave me here alone!" she calls after Trillian. She would attempt an escape as well, except the cooks watching over her give her a look and she is forced to stay behind to finish washing up. A soggy Zity will go looking for Trillian shortly after quick-scrubbing the rest of her pots and pans, likely doing an awful job at it too.

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