Wash those blues away (weyrlings)

[Invisible]

The laundry was never a fun place to be. In the winter at least it offered some warmth, but this was not winter. It was instead late summer and the heat that lingered outside gathered down here with the steam making it feel like one were walking through a tropical jungle. Meaning it was hard to breath, left one exhausted doing the simplest task, and ruined the hairdo one might have started out the day with. On the bright side there were no biting bugs. There was, however, the smell. It stank of clean in the laundry and that was about as overpowering a scent as one could find. Other than the sweat of laundry workers which mingled ever so nicely with the other smell.

Ramla had been surprised to have a weyrling reporting to her, but she’d just thanked him for the message and made her way to the laundry. Really, it was not that bad. Sure they were always backed up, but there was order to it! She might have taken offense at I’dalyn thinking it bad enough to send weyrlings to help, but truthfully she was just glad of the help. From volunteers she could insure worked or she’d just tell their weyrlingmaster. The regular laundry workers were dismissed to other tasks other than two of her best supervisors. Jolef and Nirsa would take no lip from the weyrlings and if any seemed to be slacking would double their load as well as report said slacking to the headwoman.

So it was only three older women who greeted the weyrlings when they arrived. She would wait until they all gathered before explaining what needed doing. Ramla did not like repeating herself.

[Xinnai]

Salina trooped dutifully towards the lower caverns, Deoneth dutifully by her side. She tried not to think of the mountains of laundry waiting for all the weyrlings at their destination. She’d just treat it as she had her last set of chores of such magnitude-tackle it and deal with it until it was done. It was with an inward little sigh that the junior weyrwoman thought of how there’d be no benefits to this punishment.

Deoneth was confused with her rider’s pessimism and touched at her leg gently with gleaming golden snout. Why do you feel so, Salina-mine? Is this not like the potatoes?
No darling, it isn’t. The goldrider assured her dragon softly. We’ve all gotten in trouble because I’dalyn is in a foul mood.
It’s because His caught Finneth, isn’t it? He is upset over it because he does not like being partnered with Finneth’s.
Yes, exactly.
If you are all in trouble, though, and have to do this, would it not make it go faster? If all the weyrlings must do this punishment, it would make it go faster, would it not?
Salina sighed, a bit sourly, and pushed one hand through her fall of golden hair. One would think so, but it’s not how it is. You should go on, love. Go see if you can find some Xyruth or some of the other dragons to whittle some time away with.
Deoneth listened without comment and turned to go and find some companions. Or to sleep. She wasn't sure yet.

The goldrider sighed as she made her way into the pit of hell and was met by hell’s sentinels in the forms of Ramla, Jolef and Nirsa. Salina almost flinched. She knew these three well, having grown up in the lower caverns. She had no ill will towards them, but they weren’t exactly the most pleasant of people in her book. Any hopes of a short version of conversation with Ez’ki-and possibly Z’dayi-dried up right there. They’d have to use their dragons then. The little weyrwoman sighed and then straightened up. There was no reason for such laments. This was all going to be fine, even if she did had pruned hands for about…a sevenday. Yes, it’d all be just fine. But even telling herself so didn’t boost the girl from her dejection.

[ignisfatuus]

J'sen had a face like thunder as he silently made his way to the Laundry room. Well, it was not quite as silent as it could have been with the sound of too heavy footfalls reverberating around. J'sen's body was so tense and he was just so wound up right now that even the usually outspoken and active Leeth simply followed him in an unexpectedly meek manner. Both his general air and the behaviour of his dragon were probably good signs to any passer by that this weyrling was not in the mood to be messed with.

First there had been that fight between some riders and the Caminar. That had left him in a fairly bad mood to put it lightly. It was partly because he couldn't be there to help his fellow Caminar and partly it showed that these...these dragonmen that he was now involved with were not as open minded and just as they would like to fool people into believing. And now there was this! They were all being punished because a few idiots simply could not keep their mouths shut. What Sharding fools they were! And the Weyrling staff were just as bad as the Weyrling, possibly worse. After all, weren't they supposed to be involved with that brawl and now just because people had been chatting they were being punished 'cause the Weyrling master couldn't handle what was being said.

Pathetic.

J'sen couldn't wait for the day until he had ample knowledge to look after Leeth then he wouldn't care about what they said. It was the only reason why he was being compliant with this laundry task, for Leeth. After all, he hadn't said a single word before.

If he hadn't been fuming quite so much, J'sen probably would have noticed that he was one of the first to arrive, probably because he had stalked out so quickly. All he could hope for was K'mar to for once not be so damn aggravating and everyone to be quiet and not get them into yet more trouble.

[Invisible]

The walk to the laundry was a solo one for K’mar. That was not really a surprising fact considering how well liked he was to begin with. Volsteath remained in the barracks, patient for the return of his rider and patient for an answer from the weyrlingmaster’s dragon. He had all day after all. He would be patient until- Well, until hunger overtook him since they had been sent off before getting to feed their dragons. K’mar did not worry about it because he knew I’dalyn would not let the dragons suffer even if their riders did. He would have to give them a break at some point to feed their dragons. Until then he would work in the laundry.

Before impressing it would have seemed a daunting task to K’mar, but in the two months since the hatching he had built up some stamina. He’d had to in order to survive all the chores. He knew he’d never be big or have a lot of muscles, but at least he was stronger than before. One more reason to be so thankful that Volsteath had chosen him. He was silent as he stepped into the laundry and nodded with a respectful expression to the Headwoman and her laundry assistants/tormenters of weyrlings.

Although he knew them all from being a weyrbrat he didn’t dare greet them. First because they might be expecting silence from the wayward charges. Second because it might seem like he were trying to suck up or curry favor. He knew some of the others already thought him a suck up, but he couldn’t help it if he did what he was told to the best of his ability. He was a dragonrider now. There were certain standards of behavior that he believed came with the title. So he did not say anything as he stood away from the two already arrived. Neither would want to speak with him anyway. He vowed to himself to work harder than anyone else at this task while he waited for instructions.

[blueaid]

Z'dayi trailed along at the back of the cluster of weyrlings. It's a big surprise, huh?

The bronzeling had his hands shoved idly into his back pockets, and his steps dragged across the bowl alongside Tremaith at least as far as the caverns. The dragon gave the rider a stern look, an imperious nudge, and sent the man along his way with a stern warning about no-more-slacking. Which was met with a shrug, helpless-seeming, before he ducked into the cool blue shade of the inner Weyr.

Down the tunnels, in and in until he reached the sweltering misery of the laundry. "Oh, this is gonna be just the best day ever," he said with skin-deep enthusiasm. Already worked up to a sweat in this soapy sheety humidity, he ran the back of his arm along his forehead and sized up the opposition as it were-- Ramla and the others. For some reason, he knew pretty much straightaway that a cheeky smile wasn't going to do him much good.

Momentarily, he sought to share a glance with Salina, with Ez'ki, with anyone who might be set to suffer as much as he intended to suffer. Not K'mar. Notably. That one was just going to stay a pariah.

[neopanther]

Despite being the first to leave, he had let his pace dawdle, not too keen on getting there, stride falling easily in line with Z’dayi’s as he did, he smirked to the older rider, as he commented on how joyous the day would be. “Why do I feel this is going to be one excruciatingly long day. We’ll have to find some sort of amusement.” He looked around. Everyone, (except obviously) Salina was male shards that put a dampener on it. Well at least he could be as downright perverted as he wanted and offend no one except for the oddity that was K’mar. Prude.

Ez’ki filed dutifully into the room, shards butt the Heat! He could feel the ends of his hair curling at the warmth and moisture, he groaned his displeasure audibly, and lifted his hands to tuck away any stray hairs that would almost certainly curl in this humidity.

Ramla stood before them, Ez’ki looked her over, she wasn’t going to take any crap, and he could see that on her expression. But he smiled that charming smile – though he sought for it to get him nowhere – but he couldn’t do bad by her being nice to him now could he?

The fault at hand here was no one persons, Ez’ki knew that, blame could be divided in almost equal portions;
Part to himself, Z’dayi, and Salina – for ‘discussing’ or attempting to discuss the foolishly sore subject of Finneth’s rising.
Another part to K’mar for raising said subject.
And the final, and largest proportion to I’dalyn. I’dalyn really didn’t have a necessary reason to cause them to do this, if it had been anyone else’s dragon who had caught that dratted green Finneth, then this would be no problem. So really he could see why the others were mad, but it wasn’t as though the weyrlings shouldn’t speak of a rising flight, they usually were the talk of the Weyr, and I’dalyn must have chattered when he was a weyrling, it was things like that that made weyrlings learn, and made them realise what being a rider was about and I’dalyn – quite frankly – had just shown all of his weyrlings that it was okay to vent your anger on those lower ranked than yourself. Which wasn’t a good way to ‘lead by example’ as J’fel was so very fond of. Obviously.

He looked over at K’mar – fleetingly, as anger swelled in the pit of his stomach. But that faded, pity replaced it. The kid was odd. Social skills being negligible, and it showed in the weyrling group. He wouldn’t mind being ‘friends’ or even civil tot the kid, but he was just so darn up himself! If he could get rid of even a tiny amount of that Ez’ki could actually try and get him to talk. Ez’ki was usually fairly good at that. The remorse that rippled through him was making him feel like he should apologise for his word. But he knew K’mar wouldn’t take it. And besides that grated against his own pride. He felt sorry for him, and he would try and broach it at some point, but perhaps today wouldn’t just yet. He’d let the brown rider stew, he had no right to say things like that, but by the same token, he didn’t like to see anyone that alienated, as K’mar was becoming.

[Invisible]

Until all the weyrlings had trooped in Ramla said nothing. Neither did Jolef and Nirsa. Instead the three women looked upon those now in their service with the same expressionless appearance as one might find in a statue. When a head count found all weyrlings to be present Ramla began to speak. Her voice was not raised as she expected everyone to be shutting up to listen. Nor did she introduce herself as she expected all of Telgar’s people rider or resident to know their headwoman. “These are Jolef and Nirsa and they will be your bosses today. If they tell you to do something you will do it. If you do not I wouldn’t worry about your weyrlingmaster hearing of it because I will hear of it first.”

That comment was meant to set the mood of the rest of her speech. Her tone remained conversational as if they had all just met for lunch and not in the heated laundry. “I do not know why I’dalyn has sent you here and I do not want to know. If you’re going to complain about the unfairness of it all keep it to yourself. You’re here to work, not chit chat. Anyone caught doing too much of the later will be climbing into the laundry vats to scrub them out the end of the day.” Jolef and Nirsa stood silently while the headwoman talked making note of all her instructions to the weyrlings to be able to make sure they were followed to the letter once Ramla had left.

“Jolef and Nirsa have been at this Weyr a long time,” Ramla went on, “And if you think to spend more time chit chatting with each other through your dragons you had best remember they know what to look for when a rider’s not paying attention to their task at hand. Do as you’re told and we’ll have no troubles with you.” Her gaze took in everyone present as she did some last minute juggling of her instructions.

Her next words were barked out as she pointed to three blueriders including Ez’ki. “You lot are on bleach duty. Nirsa will show you what to do when we are done here.” His charming grin must not have done him any good. Maybe she thought he needed less color about him. Now she pointed out three of the greenriders along with Salina. “You lot are folding. You’ll remain at the tables until every last item washed today has been folded and put into the proper baskets to be stored.” The rest of the weyrlings were looked at now. She pointed out six and told them, “You will spend the next two hours sorting what needs bleaching and carrying it to the vats and then what needs sorted to be carried to wash.” The next six pointed out were told, “You are responsible for washing. You will man the vats and make sure everything in there is clean enough you’d put it on your dear old granny to wear.” For the last six she gestured towards a room off the laundry. “That’s the drying room. You’ll go in there first and take down yesterday’s wash. It’s to be sorted and then carried to the folders. Every two hours those of you washing will switch. So, from sorting to washing to drying and then from drying to washing to sorting.”

The headwoman did not bother to repeat her instructions. There was no time for questions. Instead she turned and walked to the door. At the door she added, “You do not want to wind up with my knowing your name from today.” Then she was gone expecting her orders to be followed and the laundry heads to make sure it was. They would too, in order to stay off the headwoman’s list. There’d be no sympathy today.

[dragon]

T'rad was one of the last few to arrive. He had to settle Paleoth before leaving, the poor blue upset over his rider's unnecessary punishment. As he headed down to the lower caverns with everyone else, he could feel the incredible heat from the wash room. Good thing he wore lighter, older clothes to work in.

As he looked over the three older women, he recognized some more than others. He was a bit of a trouble maker when he was younger, so surely one or two of them were on the other end on some of his scoldings. But by the looks of these three, he wasn't going to get to do much beyond his work.

Speaking of which. Just what was his job? Well it was pointed out quickly. Bleach duty? Well, atleast he'd be with his fellow blueriders. T'rad could only glance at the already tangled mess that was his hair. No point in attempting anything beyond keeping it out of his eyes at this point, the heat would be murder to it.

[blueaid]

"Ma'am?" That would be Z'dayi. Following order might have been the easiest thing to do, but he looked more and more glazed and daunted the longer that Ramla went on with instructions, till-- by the end-- he was just standing there with his brows knitted up and a thick frown on his face. Whether or not he was actually confused or just dallying to kill time would be impossible to discern, for he just hesitated there, hedging on exactly which group he belonged to.

Then Ramla was gone, out the door, and he just stood there with his head cocked and the lost look steadily being replaced by a shrugged smile. "Which job," he asked in passing, going one way while T'rad and Ez'ki went the other, "d'you suppose has the most potential to fall asleep in a pile of clean sheets?"

[Invisible]

All through the headwoman’s instructions K’mar had paid careful attention. He did not want to miss his own directions by zoning out on the others. For a moment he worried about a conversation Volsteath was having since the brown was keeping it from him. Well, he couldn’t stop him from talking so he just had to trust things would not get worse for him. How much worse could it get after all? Once the headwoman left and the two laundry heads began hurrying along those that dawdled he headed for the other room where laundry waited to be taken off the drying racks and lines. Not anything like what he’d hoped to be doing today as it didn’t teach him anything about being a rider. Other than that sometimes you had to follow someone’s orders and do something you’d rather not.

As he stepped into the room and spied all the linens and clothes hanging he suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a very long day. Taking up one of the many baskets by the door meant for transporting he selected a row and got to work. If they could not leave until this work was done he would do everything in his power to get it done as quickly as possible. He just hoped the others had the same mind set.

[Xinnai]

Salina listened to the commands that were given to them silently, regarding the woman before her. Strict, yes very strict, and harsh too, her rules and directions were meant to deter the weyrlings from all but their punishment and the headwoman was truly doing a spectacular job. No talking and the women were to look for any blanked eyes or vacant stares-indications of counsel with a dragon.

The goldrider slated a careful look towards Ez'ki and Z'dayi, the grimace just as cautiously kept from her face. It lurked in gray eyes as she turned and started past the imposing women, the heralds of the momentous doom they were facing. She of course didn't mind the chores-they were to be expected-but she'd lived her entire life at Telgar. She knew that even in all that time, the laundry had never completely caught up, knew that those who worked there slaved away in conditions that could make a grown man pass into a dead faint from.

It was with a heavy breath that she entered and made her way to her station. Split up from the friends she had amongst the weyrlings. With the idea of this reinforced boredom, the little weyrwoman stepped up to her station. Folding. It kept the hands busy but not the mind. She stepped in dutifully and began, flipping cloth this way and then that, getting to work with a vengeance. She was going to do her best here, shard it, whether or not she enjoyed it.

[neopanther]

Bleach?! Horrid. Horrid. Disgustingly foul, vile, and perturbing. Firstly, it was quite obvious he still hated hard work, He took a quick glance over at Nirsa, she would be teaching them, as though they needed to learn this, he swore vehemently to himself. Yep, vital part of Weyr infrastructure was this for a rider being able to bleach ones’ own clothes (because you do that so frequently.). Now justice was being down right out of place, Just because I’dalyn was sullied by the catch of his brown, didn’t mean he had to tarnish the day belonging to t he weyrlings now did it?

Turning curtly on his heel – his expression was neither here nor there, and showed no displeasure at this situation, simply because what was going on beneath that iron facade was a complex turmoil of hatred and annoyance.

Following T’rad, he slowed only to hear what was going on with Z’dayi. Falling asleep? As though any of the three women present would permit such a thing, but Ez’ki would try and get there, slowly. Nirsa was possibly not as harsh as the head woman – Ramla. He might be able to wear her down a little, perhaps get her to help them, maybe even get her to let them go a little early – anything would be a bonus.

And not only was he stuck with bleaching, but he – unlike the others – would not be swapping his chore. Shards but he was going to reek of the stuff today. Cloying his senses likely for a week, that would be troublesome. Troublesome indeed.

The other more troublesome thing, was that apparently, Nirsa and company would be able to tell if you were speaking to your dragon, however, Ez’ki sensed an enormous problem in that. If he ignored Xyruth, the blue would become destructive in his boredom, likely undoing everything he and the other weyrlings done, in one fell swoop, making their job fifty fold more complicated, but if he spoke to the dragon he would be considered a remittal of his task, and even if he or T’rad (who was more likely for this one at least) started to zone out of non-dragon-caused reasons, just sheer monotony that was induced from the tedious task ahead of them, then they could also be punished, and young minds were easy to wander, without the scope of a dragon’s mind, and the others linked to that. Shards but this was to be a problem. He would certainly have to raise Xyruth with Nirsa, He could already feel the mind of his bonded, switching his attentions towards that destructive mannerism he gained when bored. He couldn't figure out what it was rom the scattered imaged presented by Xyruth, but he knew it was going to fall, and what ever was going to fall was going to break.
Xyr! He mentally rebuked his bonded, Leave that, you know you shouldn't do things likee that, I'dalyn's already got us on tender hooks, don't go making it worse by breaking things.
Ez's hands clutched at his sides into fists. His bonded responded mentally with sorrow, anger and defiance, an odd mix when painted with his electric tone,
But that would have looked better on the floor, I couldn’t see it properly there.
But it would have smashed and got us into even more trouble Xyruth. Not just us. He winced as he turned to the headwoman, a very convincing act one that he was used to, feigning regret.
“Headwoman, I do apologise, but I do not think that my bond will ever be able to sustain a relationship without my constant involvement, when left to his own devices – certainly at this age, he is becoming destructive. I'm not trying to excuse myself, and I do not mean to question you, but he cannot be left alone, and I cannot ignore him.” Not that Ez’ki was trying to tell the headwoman her job, he was just making her aware that if his bonded’s abnormal volume of curiosity was not kept at bay, the rooms could end up rather messy. It was highly unfair to stop them from talking to their dragons, she couldn’t really, because their bonded were too young at that moment to be left alone or without constant vigilance.

[Invisible]

Nirsa headed for the bleach vats to go over the process with the lucky weyrlings sent to handle the whites. It was her who had to deal with Ez’ki’s words as Ramla had not waited around to listen to any complaining. She was quite sure there would be plenty of them after all. That Ez’ki started before the work started was hardly surprising. The laundry supervisors had expected nothing less. “Listen up, young man,” she told Ez’ki with a stern look. “You’ll get your work done. If your weyrlingmaster has a problem dealing with those left behind it’s his concern. He has been left alone and you’ll just have to work and hope he can mind himself. It’s not my problem what your dragons get up to.”

Which was truth enough. While she might cut one of them a little slack if they get distracted by their dragon once that would be about it. A second time and the headwoman would be called for. She would deal with things much more firmly. Nirsa turned her attention to the vats and explained the bleaching process. She did so once and then folded her arms across her chest. “Go on, get to it. Sooner you finish the sooner you can get out of here.”

Meanwhile Jolef was making sure everyone else got to their spots. Those who dawdled were given a prod and told to get a move on. Those that seemed to know what they were doing were left to it. She seemed to have eyes everywhere and it didn’t matter what group people were in if someone thought of slacking off she would definitely be right upon them. A fun time this would not be. Neither Jolef or Nirsa seemed willing to lighten up from the sternness of the headwoman. Perhaps they knew what would happen to them if they did.

[neopanther]

Shards! But did none of these women understand what raising a dragon – raising Xyruth was like? He had this inherent ability to get himself into a mess, if not kept in check, and without Ez’ki there, and the dragon no longer needing day time naps, it wasn’t as though Ez’ki should leave him. The fact he was here at all was ridiculous. He was between minds of just straight walking out of there and tending to his dragon as he should be. Shards where did that dutiful streak come from? Probably the fact that he did care intensely for Xyr, and he didn’t care what Nirsa said, He would have to keep Xyr in check, that would be a lot easier than explaining to the weyrling master that he couldn’t because of what the head woman said, let the head woman check back to I’dalyn, I’dalyn would know he was right, it didn’t take much to see that Xyr had the attention span of a mentally deficient wherry.

Let them tell. It would be better overall, otherwise Ez’ki would have to explain the other sided of the matter. Why he had let Xyruth destroy countless object simply because the youngling was bored, why he failed to keep him in check, to which Ez would have only to reply that he was doing as the lower caverns staff indicated. But then I’dalyn would likely combat that with the fact that none of the women down here had ever been bonded to a dragon, and that Ez’ki should have known better than to listen to them. Either way this was going to end up with a meeting before I’dalyn, he could see it coming. So he’d take the wise route through this, he’d do it, but he’d at least try to do it discretely.

He looked at the vat before him, Nirsa explained the process, he adjusted his sleeves, tightening a chord that would stop them from slipping, then he looked, he could only draw the shirt to his elbows, it wouldn’t go any higher, and these vats were pretty deep, and he did like that shirt. He huffed, began undoing the buttons on the front off it, plain short sleeved top was present under it, he folded the top, and put it aside, gave Nirsa a casual smile and went about trying to do things as she had instructed.