Logs:Have a Heart or a Knot
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 5 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Isidro, Kaelige, R'oan, Rasaid |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Isidro and Rasaid arrive in time to curtail a growing disagreement between gore-tenders, Dee and Kaelige, and, it happens, in time for Rasaid to be stalked and Searched by a couple of assh--- er, Etrevth and R'oan. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear as a bell, the sun shines in pale winter skies, though an occasional sharp breeze blows. |
| Mentions: Ebeny/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Jemizen/Mentions, Oenamis/Mentions |
    |
>---< Feeding Grounds, Fort Weyr >-------------------------------------------<
The feeding grounds are fenced off from the rest of the Weyr with a high,
wooden fence and gate, providing plenty of space for the resident
herdbeasts -- bovines, in particular -- to ramble about. The vast majority
of the animals are for draconic consumption, but some of the more valuable
varieties are penned away from those designated to be dragon food. Ovines
and porcines are a bit more useful to humans than to the dragons that
would happily dine on them and are kept further away from the bovines and
closer to the stables as a result. There's plenty of grass to feed them,
while herders and stablehands regularly add feed to the troughs along the
eastern fence. The soil turns to mud as one gets closer to where the area
butts up against the lake, which doubles as a watering hole for the
animals.
Clear as a bell, the sun shines in pale winter skies, though an occasional
sharp breeze blows. At least it's not raining today. That's probably the best silver lining that even someone as optimistic as Dee can come up with as she arrives to the day's chores. She probably shouldn't have bathed before hand on this particular occasion, but perhaps there's an argument to be made with starting out clean, even if removing carcasses from the feeding grounds after dragons have fed is sure to make the coveralls she wears a bloody mess by the end of her time here. There's fresh kills waiting for her-- no, them, the lucky candidates on groundskeeping duty today, and by the looks of things, someone didn't make the most of their meal, meaning there's going to need to be teamwork in order to make progress moving the heavy things to where they can be dealt with. Hazel eyes scan for someone else with a white knot - there must be s teammate here somewhere, mustn't there? Winter. It's not something he's used to, not like this. But Kaelige has done a rather fair job of acting like he's used to the weather for the most part. He wears no extra layers than he usually does, but there's no extra smirk alighting the face beneath his ever-drawn hood. Although, it may very well be the fact that he's going out to do chores that has his cockiness in check, and not the weather itself. Either way, he arrives without having checked the list of who else is assigned out here. An empty basket with a wher-hide strap is slung over his shoulder. One thing he doesn't often keep checked is his upper body strength, and hefting things has been one of his few helpful talents he's actually used here or there. He's at some distance away still when he notes a familiar outline, another candidate who he'd been avoiding with some success for some time. He turns his head, disapproving, but he doesn't really have a choice but to arrive at the feeding grounds. They'd only assigned a few candidates out here today, and his abscence would be notable. Darn it all. "Always a mess; dirt, blood, gore. One might start to think you just don't ever bathe." Is his greeting. "And you should mind because?" Dee manages to sound only vaguely annoyed as her eyes settle on Kaelige and dart away. "Can we just do this?" Sounds more tired than annoyed, her chin turning enough away to imply that she'll somehow attempt to ignore him in favor of hard work. That'll work, right? "Oh I don't, you smell spectacular." Kaelige's smirk is no different than any other day, though his gaze drifts away from her out over the feeding grounds. "If you'd rather do it all yourself, I'm more than happy to go back to my busy schedule. I think your motivation makes up for the both of us." As if nothing really happened before, he continues to talk in his provoking manner, his tone dipped in that poisonous sarcastic light. The basket is swung off his shoulder and onto the ground, staining the bottom weaves with the fresh gore and dirt the soil's soaked with. Dee's gaze flicks back to Kaelige, "I don't want you smelling me," is said with the flatness that isn't even challenge, just fact. "And if I could do this alone, I would to save you the trouble of straining your better character." Evidently, Dee isn't as sweet as her true name might suggest, though her hand flopping to her breast in a poor imitation of a far classier lady tries for it anyway even as she adds, "I wouldn't want you to pull your sense of duty," as if it were an undersized muscle in need of exercise. "It's not by an act of trying to smell you." Kaelige isn't very good at compliments, but her push back of his company, stronger than he initially thought it might be, draws his curiosity more than any better sense to leave her alone. "Yeah, it's a little sore and tired from all this work. You'd think they'd take it easy on us.." He plays off the duty comment, rolling his basket-carrying shoulder around as if stretching it out. The fact it was empty doesn't really matter. "So you're staying." This subject, unlike the previous, is more direct to the fact she still holds her white knot despite everything. Dee probably preferred the inexpert exchanging of compliments or barbs or whatever they were in between. Her cheeks puff out in a held breath that makes her face look awkwardly full of air. She holds it a moment as she moves toward the carcass, pulling out gloves as she goes, and then lets the breath escape in a sigh. "Yes. And I'm hoping I can make my feet follow each other back onto those scorching Sands when the time comes." The way she says it indicates that 'hoping' is a key word in the phrase, even if she doesn't over-emphasize it. "So are you." It's pointed out with expectation of some kind of answer. "Well, there will be so many candidates this time, I'm guessing, that you can just stand in the middle of the line and be pushed out there. It won't take as much effort as last time." Physical effort is his obvious meaning, and seems to skip over the entirity of the emotional aspect of it. On purpose. Kaelige shrugs one awkward shoulder, though it could be missed as just another stretching roll of it. He turns from her as he does so, to collect his basket and move it closer to the carcass she's working on. His helpfulness isn't much strained beyond that quite yet. "Of course I am." His reply isn't so much optimistic as it seems to be his real duty to stand, as if there isn't a second option for him. "There's no reason not to." And every reason to. "Fall off a runner, get back on it. Unless you break your back, I guess, then it becomes a bit more complicated." A chuckle, short and wry, trails his unpleasant line of thought. It's probably Dee's long association that Jemizen that has accustomed her to being vexed with someone and still dealing with them in a more or less civil manner. She's making inspection of the first carcass now. "Looks like this part can be salvaged for the butchers," she notes, gesturing to a meaty section of haunch that was, for one reason or another, ignored. The young woman looks up at the hooded boy, "What are you hoping for then? Since it wasn't the green." The poor green, the remembered sadness is there in her tone, though now lessened slightly by the distance of time. "And what is with the hood?" This is added because it's clearly relevant in this moment. The briefly cast stubborn look dares him to ask how. "Your guess is better than mine." Kaelige replies to the assessment of the haunch, though considering he's not even looking at it ensures he's just saying so to act like he's doing something. But as she narrows the topic into something very specific, Kael's blue-greens are more evident beneath his hooded shadow as he regards her. "That seems a very common question. Everyone always asking for what color and why," He lifts a hand as if brushing the topic away, "Does it really matter? If you go out on the sands, you're picked. You don't get to pick." Again he's deflecting, but he knows well his statement is true enough. "I couldn't have shoved the green away if she Impressed to me. Well," He pauses, considering in a snide way, "Perhaps you could... Regardless, it didn't happen. She walked right by the both of us multiple times. You couldn't have changed that, neither could I." Her questioning of his hood forces him to pause, his smirk faultering. "What do you care about what I wear?" "Why didn't you want the green, then? Maybe that matters." The girl looks at the boy, her tone reproachful. Unfortunately for the deflector, Dee looks focused enough that it seems unlikely that he'll shake her unless he decides to abandon his exercise in duty or she wants to let it go. "Does it work?" is not an answer to his question. Dee flicks her gloved fingers toward his hood before she's crouching down and pulling a knife from her belt - a standard for this chore, to start cutting the connective tissue to salvage the haunch without having to carry the whole carcass to the butchers. "To hide who you are. Does it work?" The first is assumption and the words must be chosen; Dee doesn't act like they aren't. She must have thought on this at some point before today. "No green is going to catch a Queen." Kaelige finally divulges something, though only because she continues to press and only because there are no others within earshot. "I know how much you'd like to see me run around with all the female blueriders every few months, but I don't have time for that bullshit." Both serious and not, the lines of his face still keep his sneer. He leans back against the fence, folding his arms as if this rough-edged conversation deserves a little more intuitive thought. And less chore-doing. He's present out here in the cold, standing amidst the gore. Surely that's enough. Dee's doing the work, afterall. "What do you think?" He returns, somewhat coldly, someone dropping a hint of the joker's mask. "If everyone in the Weyr wore a hood, maybe. But it serves other purposes, none of which effect you." Not directly, anyway. Even though she's good at trailing after his deflections, it doesn't keep him from trying. Dee is dumbfounded. Really. There's a moment in which she looks like she feels like she might not have heard him right, and then she's lifting his head to look at him. "You want to be Weyrleader?" is the obvious assumption. It deters her from the hood line of inquiry, for the moment. (Probably only for the moment.) Kaelige is immediately regretful that he spoke even those few words to get her to stop bringing up the damnable hatchling. He turns his head away so that no more of his face can be seen. And he stands there, silent for so long that one might think he has no intention to reply to her. That opened up a whole other can of worms. A can of worms he doesn't wish to go into. "You never know what might happen." He gives at first, but then things change, "Don't ever bring that up again." The amusement is dropped, his voice is frighteningly level. A real threat? Dee's nostrils flare and her face hardens. She gives Kaelige a look. "You do know," she starts in a way that is clearly not not bringing it up again, "that a Weyrleader can't have an allergy to working hard, right? Duty, responsibility, work. That's what a Weyrleader does. He cares about a single life." Or so Dee would like it to be. "Yes, and it doesn't involve cutting up a random dragon's leftover midnight snack." Kaelige's retort has the remnant of that violent tone, but it's dissolved enough to be normal for him, not quite as harsh. "Do you know what it means to be in charge of a large amount of people?" Does he? "Are you sure he cares about a single life? You think the weyrleaders of the past cried every time one fell out of the sky from threadfall? They'd not even last until the next queen rose." It's probably good that Dee has the good sense to jam her knife into the ground before she rises from her crouch to advance on him or else it might look like an actual threat instead of just a girl annoyed with a dumb boy (which has to be far more commonplace in a Weyr, doesn't it?). She must hear everything, but what she responds is: "You don't have to cry to give a shit, Kaelige!" As she draws nearer him, in a way that suggests a shove is coming, her hands plant on her hips instead. "It's not one extreme or the other. You can give a shit without being a snotty mess." Even though Dee didn't prove that point after the hatching. Kaelige doesn't move, doesn't act like an enraged girl approaches him with a flared temper. His calmness probably would be more enraging than anything. His head, at least, turns back to her and given her distance, the hood's shadows in daylight makes little progress in hiding the details of his expression. His expression which is completely bland, unreadable. "You act like anyone who has ever led anything has an overflowing heart, oozing with love for every person they touch." Snide, but still unphased. As she closes in, he only looks straight into her eyes. His typical awkwardness is unapparent in this situation. "Who says I don't give a shit? Just because I didn't fall to my knees because something died? Things die, Dee. Every day. You're cutting up something that was alive." He lets a hand fall that would be in a motion that would almost look like he was going to back hand her if she was any closer, but apparently just means to motion to the downed herdbeast. "Should I go speak with the herders? Let them know they shouldn't be breeding things just to kill them off?" "That-" Dee points to the herdbeast without looking at it, "isn't a dragon. Dragons are thoughtful, intelligent creatures with names and feelings and lifemates." There's a moment where the girl's eyes start to glisten and she blinks furiously, trying to staunch the threat of tears. "How can you be so callous? Do you give a shit?" is a fair question after his own, even if her still frustrated delivery leaves something to be desired in the way of diplomacy. It's a quick motion, a sudden motion. Kaelige takes a single step forwards. His hands take Dee by her shoulders unless she manages to wiggle away in that slim instant before he can grab her, and with a movement too fluid to be anything but intentional and practiced, he spins Dee to pin her against the fence line. His face is a breadth away from hers. "You really think life is so precious?" It's something between a growl and a smirk. Not an attractive thing. "Such a thing so easy to extinguish?" He pauses, releases her arms. "To protect many, sometimes you have to lose a few. What is your choice, Dee? Would you put your energy into saving a single life, or many more at the cost of the one? Could you even make that choice?" Dee's lack of defensive reaction betrays her utter ignorance of physical violence. She does look surprised to find herself so handled, tension automatically coming to her frame but little else in the way of a physical reaction. She's against the inside of the fence of the feeding grounds, with only inches between herself and the taller candidate. One could take guesses whether it's that ignorance, stupidity or actual bravery that makes the girl's face betray no fear, even in the face of this new ugliness. "Life is precious!" is snapped back low and with resolve. It doesn't seem like a lover's spat, at least. The body language is all wrong. "I would find a better way," she hopes, anyway. She believes, which is worse. Then she's shifting to try to move past him, around him, to get back to her abandoned knife next to the carcasses left behind by one dragon or another and the chore at hand. "You keep believing that. And you'll just drown in your own snot again." Kaelige doesn't move as she attempts to move past him, which would mean he'd have to be pushed slightly to allow escape from his close quarters. He doesn't seem swayed by her good heartedness, though he also doesn't attack her again in a slip of his own aggression. He stands there, looking beyond the fenceline as if deciding either his next words or if he should just leave her here. Does it matter at this point if the chores get done? The fact she has access to a knife doesn't bother him, though he does tilt his head to be able to see her from the corner of his eye beyond the rim of his hood. Just to watch her, and to say nothing else. Heavy footfalls announce the coming of Rasaid into the area. He's probably lost, but from the determined set of his shoulders has no intention of admitting to it. The sudden movement pulls his dark gaze from his bath and towards the pair. An upraised eyebrow as he shifts his feet to step towards the pair. "Far from the kitchen." A thick finger points at the carcasses as the words come out slowly, betraying his utter ignorance of why a whole pile of meat is sitting around. Dirt. Cows. It's all very rustic out here, which would be a prime reason that this is not one of Isidro's usual haunts. Especially at this time of year, his usual haunt has been indoors, where it is warm, and dry. Being out here requires a coat. And, though it's not exactly below-zero temps, a scarf wound round and over his face, and gloves. But no hat, because you don't get perfect hair by wearing hats. Thus muffled, he's been making his way across the bowl. Or was, until he got distracted by watching--from a safe distance--a dragon at its evening meal. Evidently this is interesting enough to linger, even with the chill. Etrevth may be stalking Rasaid; the brown has been watching him from a ledge high on the Bowl wall as the young man makes his way towards the feeding grounds and like a shadow, the dragon drops from above to sweep over the area once then twice. It's only as he draws close enough to speak towards the Candidates, there, that the brown dragon drops without warning onto a herdbeast in sudden violence, almost too close to them. Close enough that the splatter of blood might reach them, as his swirling gaze levels on Rasaid. Dee's movement isn't stopped by the fact that she has to push past Kaelige. She doesn't bother to fully skirt him, letting her arm make contact with whatever part of him it has to to get her back to the task. She crouches and pulls her knife from the dirt before casting a moody hazel gaze up at the older man who spoke. "For the weyrlings," is more curt than her usual, a gesture over her shoulder to the sight that's distracted Isidro, "Leftovers," is added with some shade of grim humor, though oddly dark for the brunette. The way she stabs into the connective tissue again to keep rending the only slightly bitten haunch from the rest of the carcass is the thing that most reveals her continued anger. Stab. Stab. "No shit." Kaelige is a bit far from his typical sarcasm to snap it back fast enough when Rasaid's comment filters into his awareness. At least Dee has a bit more civil words for him, despite her vicious stabbing of the carcass. Kael only watches her for a bit more before he's forced to take stock of their surroundings again, by both need and habit. He'd noticed the young man's approach, but given it little attention for the preference of his personal interaction going on at the moment. But, when multiple other entrees make themselves apparent in the immediate vicinity, he's less inclined to continue that particular conversation. Especially when a brown dragon lands very nearly ontop of them. Kael scales the fence out of the way of flung gore and brown wings, perching atop of it in a simple motion and turning himself about to see the end result of the herdbeast squashed not all unlike a wack-a-mole. Rasaid plods forward a few more steps only to stop when the brown dragon abruptly makes his apperance, gaze shifting downwards to look at the spatter of blood at his feet. Eyes narrow as he follows the droplets back up to the brown to meet. "Violent." Rasaid goes for one word commentary, but the THUNK of Dee's knife into the meat draws his ear towards her, head turning, though his gaze doesn't leave the brown. He settles himself solidly onto the groun, arms coming forward in front of him to fold across his chest. "Do something to you when it was living?" The thing about keeping your distance: it's cleaner. The other thing about keeping your distance: it's kind of boring. Solution: Once the messiest bits seem to be over with, approach. Curiosity cured the cat, everybody knows that. Isidro pulls the scarf down from his face, tucking it under his chin. "Yes, provoke the girl with the weapon, this is a brilliant plan and nothing can possibly go wrong!" He is entirely too cheery and smiling more than anyone has any right to. If anyone can be said to have a right to smiling at all, that would be awfully entitled. Etrevth growls at Rasaid, staring at the young man as if he might be his next meal. Luckily for him, there is a dragonrider making his way towards the feeding pens. In fact, R'oan seems to be dragging himself there, unhappy to be taken away from wherever he was. Though wherever that was comes with mussed, dirty blonde hair and a wrinkled shirt that hasn't quite been buttoned over a bare chest, but at least he has a flask in a free hand while his other rakes through that hair. He keeps his distance at first, too, leaning against the fence that Kaelige has perched on. "It was probably an annoying boy when it was alive," Dee tells Rasaid, managing to flash him a smile that might make the sentence unnerving, but the words are clearly meant for Kaelige, who gets the pointed look. Then the brown gets it, "Annoying boys," she mumbles before stabbing the carcass again. She looks up again in time to see R'oan arrive and she just looks back to her task, using not unsubstantial arm strength to finish rending the haunch away. Her coveralls get a healthy dose of blood, beyond the splatter from her knife and Etrevth as she pulls the haunch against her chest. "I'll be back," is really to Kaelige, "with the wheelbarrow," which the candidates almost definitely should have thought to get sooner, given the chore they're set to. She glances to Isidro and just sighs. Normally, Dee approves of cheeriness. Just not, apparently, now. Hugging the bloody haunch, she heads off. Kaelige settles ontop of the fence, setting his boots into the lower rung of the fence and tugging at the peek of his hood to draw it downwards. He's hardly in the mood to press jokes for once, though a face he's not so familiar with gets a lingering amount of attention. Isidro's cheery sarcasm is awarded that skeptical blue-green gaze that follows his path. "I think you're safe provoking that one." Comes the dry voice from under the shadows, though he doesn't say it all that loudly. In fact, he says it blandly enough that it could well be overlooked, which may be for the best considering he sighs after, notably knowing he would have been better off without that peanut gallery comment. Dee's words don't sting so much as make him at least look at her again, and watch her pass by to do more of the chore he obviously isn't helping with. As he lays his arms over his thighs to lean forward, now fully in observer-only mode, he's promptly joined by a brownrider. Without looking away from the group within the pens, he asks, "Does yours always make such a grand entrance?" He feels it's a safe assumption to put the previously arrived dragon in pair with R'oan, lest it be that much a coincidence. "Done plenty to piss off people. Don't think I ever done anything to a dragon." Rasaid isn't really talking to anyone in particular, just casting the words into the air, his voice a deep baritone. A hand loosens from its place across his chest to jerk a thumb towards Dee. Who is... leaving. Tearing his gaze from the dragon to glance at her stomping away before he shakes his head just slightly and returns his gaze to the dragon. "Touchy." Commentary just for Dee. A derisive snort, and Isidro makes a face, nose wrinkling up. "Never assume you're safe, with girls." This is his best advice to the Youth Of Today, apparently. "Never assume you're safe, generally. The world's never safe." He's still, face aside, awfully pleased-sounding for that to be true, but never mind. "But especially not with girls. They can be vicious. If usually less gory about it than--" Hand gesture to take in the dragon, and then he schools his face back to something a little closer to serious. "He always makes an annoying entrance," R'oan will agree easily to Kaelige, taking a slow sip from his flask before offering it out wordlessly to the Candidate despite him being assigned chores right now. "I've lost count of the times he's dropped me off in the lake." And when Rasaid looks to him again, Etrevth growls loudly, stops abruptly, and then reaches a bloody paw to press against the young man's shoulder. His rider, finally, calls out in explanation, helpfully, "He wants you to have a knot there." Kaelige smirks under his hood, though by now he's let himself look up and allow his face to be seen again to watch the search-related proceedings before them unfold. Eased finally from the prior subject, he offers an amused 'hmph' at R'oan's correction and added tale. He barely tilts his head as the flask is offered to him from the older man, but his gloved hand is moved to take it in smooth turn. No hesitation there. Girls, man. He takes a quick swig of it before handing it back. Gritting his teeth to both the taste and the pleasure of the alcohol in light of his annoyance, he utters an 'ah' within a breath as the intended 'thank you.' Isidro's commentary gets a look. Not really a look that can be defined, just a blue-green intense look. There's a comment to be given here, but Kael is in the mood to hold his tongue for once. As steady as Rasaid's pose is, he's got nothing on the weight of a dragon. A single step backwards, just to steady himself, before Rasaid settles again. There's a scowl on his face. He's just ignorant enough to completely miss the significance of what the dragon is trying to do though if he really thought about it he might make the connection. "Don't have a knot." Which isn't really an answer. "Been cut off." Which isn't a topic that Rasaid particularly wants to get on, and an explination for the knotless shoulder. "Looking for a job. Not a knot." However many looks Kaelige might shoot in Isidro's direction, all he gets in return is a lift of dark eyebrows and more smiling. Discontent without anything to do with his hands, he falls to toying with the scarf, unwinding it from around his neck for the purposes of just doing it all over again. "Dropped you in a lake? I thought that was the point of all that leather, to avoid those sorts of pitfalls. Maybe more to avoid colliding heavily with things less forgiving than lakes, but... still." Without really lingering on this, he heads straight on to: "Jobs usually come with knots, or so I've heard. They're very good here at keeping people busy." "Leathers are there to look pretty and protect against the cold. Don't do shit against anything else," drawls R'oan dryly, jiggling his leather flask. And the look he levels on Rasaid is one that doesn't do much to hide the way he is biting back laughter that might be at the man rather than with. "No, he wants you to have a Candidate's knot. He's Searching you," is explained slowly as if speaking so will help, as he gestures to Kaelige's knot. "He might be off his rocker, though." Kaelige keeps his knot on his hip, not quite as obvious as the more usual place it's supposed to be displayed. But it is there to be motioned to, if only looped through a belt loop and looking like it's been shoved in a pocket more than once or twice. "Please don't tell me you don't understand that." Kael's comment comes late, following both Isidro's and R'oan's explainations. But he makes no other effort to assist any of the above. "Huh." Well. That came out of left field. Rasiad holds himself completely still, except for his eyes which trace upwards on the dragon in front of him. "Comes with a bed and meals?" His mind is working through this, slowly. "Till the... eggs," okay, so he's pulling back on those teaching ballads now, "hatch." A moment or two of silence, "And access to Laundry." Because a dragon just left bloodstains all over his wool traveling cloak. A hand waves off that explanation from the rider, still holding part of his scarf, the loose bit of it flapping. "No, no. Not the outfits, although those definitely seem to have their charms. The bits on the dragon. Straps." Is it that important? No. "I imagine it also comes with baths," he offers up helpfully, for Rasaid. Very, very helpful. There's a lurking amusement there, like all of this has decided to happen for his own personal amusement. "All the general comforts of living in civilization, here." "When a dragon lands in a lake and won't move, you don't have much choice on how to dismount," explains R'oan in turn to Isidro, glancing towards the asshole in question who has done just that. But right now, Etrevth only manages to seem inordinately pleased with himself, before he flings brown wings out and launches himself back up into the sky without taking any bite of the herdbeast he just killed. More work for the Candidates. Of which Rasaid is now one as the brownrider offers, "Yep, all of those," on the heels of Isidro's remark. "Get yourself a knot from the Headwoman and a bed in the Candidates' barracks." Dee must not have had to go far for the delivery and wheelbarrow she promised to return with for she's returning already. "They'll even let you scrub the stubborn stains yourself," she offers to Rasaid as she comes to a stop next to the remainder of the carcasses she (oh, and Kaelige, by the way!) were tasked to deal with. She looks up to the brown thoughtfully a moment and then to R'oan, cocking a single arched brow at him as if to ask for confirmation that the two of them belong to one another. Isidro manages to earn a small smile from the brunette before she's looking down to the gore she's going to deal with. Then, in a very no-nonsense tone, she says, "Kaelige, do you want the intestines or the heart?" At least she doesn't imply he might need the latter. "Yeah, if by access you mean making the beds, preparing the meals and doing the laundry." Kaelige replies dryly, barely holding back all that excitement he has for chores. Isidro's words get a shake of his head, but he feels as though his initial remark is enough on that note. When Dee returns, he- oddly enough- pushes himself off of the fenceline, dropping to his feet squarely. "You can keep the heart." He offers, with mock kindness and catching onto her meaning just fine. He doesn't pull off his gloves or roll up his sleeves as he leans over the guts of the mutilated creature, slowly beginning to stink more as the evening carries on. Another, "Huh." comes out as a grunt. The sarcasm rolling off the other's voices isn't lost and once the brown has made his leave Rasaid finally turns to face the others. He'll skim their various shoulders, the white knot clicking in his head now with the contect in place. "White knot." A flick of his gaze at Kaelige, "know nothing. Makes sense. Fits. Don't know nothing." Yes. He knows nothing yet. The gory scene of carnage pulls his attention, ad he hesitates. Go? Stay? Instead he'll settle for introductions. "Rasaid." The possibility of just winding up in a lake by pure stubbornness seems not to have occurred to the lanky young man, and Isidro's smile faces into a thoughtful expression for a few moments. Only a few. "Well. Congratulations seem to be in order--but I think I'll leave the butchery to those more constitutionally suited for it, and get myself back into the warm before my ears freeze off." Scarf gets re-wound again. The hundredth time, at least. This time, at least his ears get safely back under cover, and he makes do with a wiggle of fingers for goodbye in order to take his leave. As Rasaid introduces himself, the brownrider only draws a, "R'oan," for all that his gaze lingers on Dee for a moment as the other Candidate returns. He has no knot for the young man to observe. But, as his dragon leaves and the Candidates return to work, he pushes away from the fence. And he leaves, not quite following Isidro but heading off in the same general direction. "As you like," Dee tells Kaelige flatly as she reaches gloved hands into the mess of the chest, wrestling with the weight of the bones to get the top half (nicely separated from the rest of course), into the wheelbarrow. She glances briefly after R'oan and scarf-wearer, "The cheerful one was Isidro, who works in the kitchens," she offers to Rasaid, just in case. "I'm Dee, this is Kaelige," in case he didn't hear her earlier address of her choremate. "Congratulations," she offers to Rasaid without offering a hand. It's probably for the best, given the covering of gross stuff on her gloves and coveralls. The young man's name is stored for later, but not spoken. Not even a 'well met' would leave Kael's mouth. Instead, "Congratulations for what?" It's not a real question, Kaelige knows very well what both Isidro and Dee mean but it's a point he means to make more than anything. Still, his sarcasm is winning out again, and it's more evident in his smirk and tone now than it had been. He's helpful, look. A knife is produced from a sheath strapped to his leg. A shorter, smaller belt knife but not so untraditional as to stand out. It looks well-used, worn at the hilt and handle, scratched on its blade yet sharpened enough that it makes short work of disconnecting the intesetines from either end. That will smell great. He looks all too comfortable doing so, or at least entirely uncaring. An armful of guts is lifted and hefted into the wheelbarrow. Smeared with plenty of gore despite avoiding R'oan's dramatic brown's entrance, he takes the handles of the wheelbarrow with intent to actually be the one to take it back. The only addition to the offer of his name to the now-candidate is a nod. It's not like he'd give his name out otherwise. Rasaid lifts a hand in the direction of the departing pair, looking skywards for one last glance at the brown, before returning to the scene before him. He takes in the words from Dee, and what he translates as bitterness from Kaelige. A few moments to compose his words before dryly, "All you white knots," Rasaid'll have to work on the word 'candidates', "where you all ill tempered bastards before you got roped into this?" He makes no move forward to help the pair till they express desire for him to do so. "I'm not sure if being heartless is a congenital defect or not," Dee answers Rasaid with an eye toward Kaelige as he takes the wheelbarrow. She makes to strip off her gloves. "I'm sorry," is next, but it's for the new candidate, not the one she's been stuck with already too long. "I think I'm a bit on edge because of everything that's happened. With the green going between at Elaruth's hatching and the landslide at Lux's Ledge that trapped the weyrlingmaster, killed a candidate, injured another and however many people from the Hold itself," she looks as tired as the events she speaks of might reasonably make someone who cares too much. "Can I show you to the barracks Rasaid?" She offers this politely. "You certainly were." Kaelige responds to Rasaid, dumping him into the group and throwing him under that 'ill-tempered-bastard' bus right with the rest of them, without a second thought. Kael lifts the handles with little effort, "You can always turn 'em down." He adds as an afterthought in regards to the Rasaid accepting the knot and title that goes with it. As Dee starts with the heartless comment, he rolls his eyes, though it's easily missed given he's dropped his hooded head and simply stands, waiting for Dee if she spots any other pieces to add to the wheelbarrow. He may be helpful at the moment, but it's not going to include a second trip. "All in the past." He grunts to her brief description of the recent events, with little intention to better the issue. Rather, just digging himself a deeper hole. Purposefully Rasaid shifts his attention from one candidate to the next. Whatever thoughts he has the stocky man keeps to himself, instead shruging a single time at those inward thoughts. "Don't see anyone else offering a bed, meals, and such." The soul of praticality here as he stuffs his hands into pockets and turns to allow the pair to move ahead of him. "Less I got some mountain what is angry at me," an upraised eyebrow at Dee, nope, Rasaid doesn't have much of an emotional connection to death, "Don't figure I'm in any danger of anything 'cept some sarcasm." Which seems to be a unifying force among the white knots. "No, of course not," Dee has a real, warm genuine smile that is probably meant to be reassuring that she, at least, truly believes nothing bad will happen to them, despite the recent past. She glances toward Kaelige and lets her nose wrinkle a moment before moving in the general direction of the gate of the fence. She'll even hold it open for Kaelige, like a good chore partner. "You don't know much about the Weyr." Kaelige very nearly mutters in contrast to both Rasaid and Dee's proclaimations of such apparent safety, a smirk curling his words into something that sounds joking.. yet really isn't. He moves the loaded wheelbarrow forwards, bowing dramatically to Dee's curteousness with a sneer to follow it. He'd lead the group then for as far as they'd follow until parting ways, across the bowl towards the weyrling complex given the massacred nature of the pieces they'd procured. |
Leave A Comment