Slippery When... Oiled?

Xanadu Weyr - Candidate Barracks

A long, low ceiling room opens off the entrance hall to the arena, one wall slightly curved as it is set against the outer wall of the arena itself. Cots are set evenly the length of the room, in two rows, each with its own small press at the foot, for personal belongings. Wide windows are spaced along the outside wall, letting sunlight in, while other lights are available for the night time hours.

Most of the candidates have been out of the barracks for the day. Not just for chores, but also on orders. It was a group of boys' turn to clean the floors, so everything was cleared out and everyone sent to occupy themselves while the deed was done. Upon everyone's return, they'll find the floors glistening. Why, they're practically squeaky clean! You could see yourself in them! Eat off of them if you so desired! Unfortunately, that kind of clean is really bad for people to walk on….

Satoris is returning from working with the runners and a bath afterwards to do some relaxing before he's called away again. Mildly distracted, he's still toweling off his hair as he steps into the barracks… and promptly falls on his bum and goes sliding a few feet. He just stops, limbs akimbo; dumbfounded.

Natishen isn't much behind Satoris, clearly grateful to be able to return to the barracks. He's neither close enough, nor quick enough, to catch the other Candidate, and just stands outside the doorway, gaping. "Er… Satoris, why'd you do that?"

Thank Faranth for small favors. Rished spent much of his day watching kidlets and, of course, plenty of time in the baths as well afterward. Freshly scrubbed and full of whatever he was able to snag in the Caverns, he trots back to the barracks with some measure of distracted satisfaction at a day's job well done. He comes to a stop shortly behind Natishen, feet stuttering a bit but still catching himself before he can risk a collision. "Wait, what?" he blurts out, taking a moment to catch up to what had happened — just a few seconds is all he needs to piece together that Satoris is on the ground … and the floor is /re-eally/ shiny. "… huh. You okay?"

"I didn't," Satoris protests, voice rising in pitch at the end as if he's not fully certain what he /did/ do. The man tosses his towel in the direction of his cot and rubs at his arm a bit — must have bumped it on the way down — as he starts to get to his feet. His boots skitter and slide in place a moment before he falls again… but fortunately, the miner-turned-candidate catches himself on someone else's cot and falls to sit there instead. "Uh…. be careful guys," he grunts, frowning.

As if Jessamin's day hasn't been chaotic enough - by the sound of her flits trilling and warbling behind her - she now has a huge pile of mending to do. Mending that obscures her vision and proves to be her undoing, as Satoris' warning reaches her too late. "What the…?! Whoooaaaaah!!!!!" THUD. Laundry goes flying, flits go squawking, and any semblance of pride goes right out the window. "Ow… what is this, twice in one day?"

Natishen inches closer to the doorway, staring at the now two Candidates taken down by that all-too-shiny floor. "What on Pern?" Hanging on to the doorjam, he reaches out, offering a hand to Jessamin. Sorry, Satoris, but ladies first. "I know they washed the floors today, but shouldn't they be dry yet?"

"I- oh /jays/." Rished's just a little slow on the uptake as far as saving a lady is concerned and he remains where he is for now with a concerned look for Jessamin. "You okay?" He flicks a look to Satoris, then, though he's not about to follow him across the floor. "What /did/ they do?" he mutters, moving to crouch and then lay a hand on the floor in an attempt to discern just /what/ is on it.

Wax. The floors have been waxed. But it's strange and almost oily. Like they didn't get the right stuff. Satoris jumps a bit as laundry and 'lizards go flying, wincing at Jessamin's fall. "I don't know /what/ they did," Satoris says, voice rough. He looks to the other three, not daring to move just yet. "Do you guys know who was cleaning the floors?"

Jessamin groans a little as she pushes herself up to a sitting position, nearly falling right back down again as her palms can't quite seem to 'catch' on the floor beneath her. What an undignified position she finds herself in—and not entirely unfamiliar. "Oh fardles… not again!" With eleven 'lizards now instead of just four, there is sure to be mayhem on the wing! Inch by inch, she scoots backwards on her rear end, making her way to her cot. Forget the laundry, it's every Weaver for themselves!

Natishen snorts, scowling. "Dorovan and his friends," he whispers to Satoris, automatically looking up to see if the trio are anywhere around. If they are, they're hiding, and enjoying the other Candidates' situation. "'Less they got some of the others to do it, but I doubt it. This is… well, just like them." His lips thin sightly and he withdraws his hand, still standing on the edge of the doorway, unwilling to join the other two on the floor.

"Oily," Rished mutters, rubbing his fingers together before rising. "Cleaning that stuff up is going to be, uh. Difficult." Understatement of the turn, that. He makes a face, then moves to strip off his boots and socks; bare feet /might/ help a little in traversing the floor … certainly more than his boots — which need a serious re-soling or replacing — would. "Those three?" is aimed to Natishen with a wrinkle of his nose and another look at the too-shiny, too-slick floor. Clearly, the group of boys set to clean the floors did their job admirably … and then sabotaged it, turning it into a treacherous thing. Jessamin's scooting is noted, as is the cot-sitting Satoris, with his eyes finally landing on his doorway-lingering associate, Natishen. "I just hope /we/ don't get in trouble for this."

"We weren't assigned to clean," Satoris says firmly, glowering at the floor from his perch on someone's got. Not his own, by far; he slid past that, unfortunately. A glance to Rished, brow furrowed, "Oil? They put /oil/ on the floor?" His voice rises in an incredulous pitch.

Jessamin groans as she looks at the laundry on the oil-slick floor. "That's going to take a miracle to get out of all those clothes. Some of them should have been rags anyways, but still…" What a comical sight she is, scooting back like a little child across the floor, her hands having no small amount of trouble finding any purchase on the slick surface beneath. Madder's bugling has her rolling her eyes. "Here we go again… I hope our cots don't get taken away this time!"

"Undoubtedly, they thought it funny," Nash replies evenly, but the slight mottling of his face shows how angry he is. He slips off his own sandals and pokes a toe thoughtfully at the floor, extending it when even his bare skin begins to slide. "Shards, we're gonna have to clean this all up, though, regardless of whether we were supposed to."

Sekhmet warbles quite happily as she swoops in to grab at some of the scattered laundry, taking off with it and raising a ruckus

Satoris makes a displeased sound as he watches the firelizards go wild with the laundry. It's a kind of rumbling deep in his chest. He glances to Natishen, shaking his head a little. "I haven't the slightest idea where to begin," he admits, looking dubiously at the floor. After a short time, he tries to get to his feet again. This time, the former miner takes a wide stance and save for some slips and edges here and there, he's slowly able to start making his way towards his own cot and perhaps the door.

As if firelizards going wild with the laundry isn't bad enough, Jessamin doesn't quite make it to her cot before two of her blues decide to join in the fun. Only this time, the laundry isn't in the pile—it's the white cotton tunic she's still wearing. "Wha… hey… Turquoise! Indigo! Come on, let me go!" Oh, brother!

"I don't know if it's /all/ oil. It's waxy and, uh, oily." His fingers are rubbed together again, his furrowed brow deepening. "This is going to take /forever/ to clean up," Rished sighs, moving carefully across the floor in bare feet to where his cot is. For all his clumsiness naturally, he manages to get about halfway before he hits a particularly slick spot and winds up on his rear. Pulling a Jessamin, he scoots the rest of the way on his tuckus, only to clamber up onto the press at the foot of his cot.
Satoris reaches his cot and flops into it, exhaling in a sigh. He looks over to Natishen, eyebrows rising a bit. "Think you could… I don't know. Get someone or bring some cleaning supplies?" He winces as Jessamin is attacked by her 'lizards, making a silent thanks that his tend to be fairly absent from his personage.

Natishen totally is not joining the others on the floor. He'll stay right here in the doorway, thank you! Still clutching the doorframe, he studies the three crawling Candidates and snorts, clearly trying to - and failing to - hide a smile. "Well. I don't know the first thing about cleaning up spilled oil - but I suppose it's good for us to learn, anyway. I mean, we'll be dealing with it soon enough."

Jessamin says "I don't usually mind oil, but then it's Dylanth, and G'len, and… never mind! ACK!" The attack of her 'lizards has her tumbling from the relative safety of someone's clothing press onto the ground again. Mercifully, it's onto her 'thinking parts'. But can she get a grip on anything? Oh heck, no! Her 'lizards think this great fun as, for a little bit, it looks as if they might try to fly off with her! And do they listen to her protestations or her calls for order? Nope! "Come on, let me go…!!!"

"Just need a good, heavy-duty soap to do it, I think." Pause. "And lots of water. And, uh. Brushes. The long-handled ones. And more water." Rished blinks owlishly over at Jessamin, his mouth opening, then closing — no doubt trying to think of /something/ to say and just too flabbergasted by the sight of attacking 'lizards to think of a thing. His three? They're on his bed, happily sprawled out; he's not using it, so they might as well, right? Right.

"Should we clean it up?" Satoris muses, leaning down to push a finger at the floor to feel the substance for himself. "Or should we report it, so those that did it get… their comeuppance?" It's not that he's avoiding cleaning… he just doesn't want to cover up for someone else's misdeeds.

Something has Phylicia coming in a bit of a hurry today, but who knows what it is. Hurried footsteps from from the way of the foyer, and in a few short moments the ex-healer girl runs smack dab into Natishen who - of course - is standing in the doorway. Brilliant spot to be. But with the oiled floor just beyond on the other side? The outcome can't be good. "You don't stand in dooorr-eeeek!" And it won't be, by the sounds of it.

Flying Natishens are a funny sight, and this one is no exception. Propelled by the power of Phylicia(um?), the younger boy goes sprawling front-first onto the floor, skidding halfway down the length of the barracks before he manages to catch the leg of a cot and fetch himself up. "OOF!" Slipping and sliding, he manages, turtle-like, to get himself onto his back and stare at the healer-turned-Candidate. "Uhm. Hi, Phy. Uhm. Satoris? Is that… wise?" He turns his gaze on the older Candidate.

Satoris jerks his feet out of the way as Natishen goes sliding by. He stares, wide-eyed, at the boy. There's a slight cough as he clears his throat… probably trying to avoid laughing. "Someone should be told," he says to the boy, frowning a little. "If we don't, we'd just be letting them get away with it."

Rished makes a face and pulls his feet up to examine the soles of them. "I don't … know? I'd think we should, if only so no one else-" and, of course, no sooner than he starts the thought than Phylicia becomes prime example number one of why oily floors and the unsuspecting are not a good combination. "-uh. Does that," he finishes, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Jays. Are you two okay? Because, uh. That looked painful."

Oh, let's play slide-the-human-across-the-floor! Jessamin is in a rather undignified position as she is dragged about on the slick ground, momentarily at the mercy of her 'lizards till they get this all out of their system. "And bring back some jerky or something, think this lot will only listen to their stomachs now!" Yes, winged stomachs can be single-minded creatures. But even she can't help smiling some, brought back to simpler times by this predicament. "Just don't get Thea in here!"

Phylicia thankfully didn't skid nearly as far as Nash seemed to, but that's likely because he's both smaller and took a good chunk of her impact. Phylicia merely ends up on her stomach, sliding until her hands come in contact with the first available item, which she grabs. But the girl is winded as she looks to Rished, trying to shove herself up into a sitting position, but not finding any purchase with the slide floor. "Fine. Or will be." Comes the croaked response as finally she get's a hold of whomever's cot stopped her. "Natishen?"

"I'm all over oil," Nash complains as he studies his shirt and the oil stains that will likely be very difficult to get out. "But I'm not hurt." Squirming on his back, he manages to use the nearest cot to pull himself up, and then bellies onto it, sprawling. His own firelizards, shocked by the humans' actions, are watching from his cot, several away. "Well." He eyes Satoris a moment longer, then nods his head firmly. "I agree. Maybe this will spur some action," he adds cryptically.

Satoris looks around for his 'lizards a moment, not daring to leave the relative safety of his cot just yet. "Anyone have a 'lizard that can take word to… someone? Like the Weyrlingmasters?" He reaches for his towel, which fell nearby, and squints a bit at it. "Ugh. Laundry duty is going to be terrible."

Rished reaches over, gently poking Navy until the blue is fully awakened with a chirrup. "Navy's good. He can take a note, but- uh, all my note stuff is in my press," and he's kind of sitting on it. Oil-butt isn't going on the cot, no way. "Weyrlingmasters and, uh- who else? Or just them?" A glance is given to Phy and then Natishen with a slight nod, and then he's glancing at Jessamin with a wince. "I might have some jerky." Let the rummaging in his pockets begin!

Jessamin says "Hurry with that jerky! Please!" Enough is enough, Jessamin is quite ready to get up now. She shoots a look at Empress and lets out a sharp whistle. The gold, for once, seems to be behaving herself, and starts flying at the 'lizards who are making their perch their toy, haranguing them and doing her best to shoo them off. All Jessamin can do is pray she gets slid underneath a cot, covering her head and neck with her arms. Her prayer is answered with a cry of, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!"

Satoris is close to the door. Or his cot is and he is on his cot. The man draws a breath, "Let me go find someone," he ventures, frowning. "You guys… try finding some cleaning materials. I'll make sure to explain what happened, then we can go ahead and clean it up?" Without waiting for an answer, he lunges for the door to leap past the oily-waxy-floor.

"Well that's good." Phylicia says, sounding far more normal as she gets air back into her lungs. It's with care that she pulls herself up onto the trunk of this person's cot, until she finally speaks up, seated indian-style on the top. "I've paper on me." She supplies, going for that thigh-holstered pouch of hers and pulling out a small pad of paper, and a small writing utensil. "What does it need to say?" She asks, looking around the room. She's not above tattling whomever did this dangerous stunt out. Or Satoris could be standing up and leaping. That gets a blink from her as the cot undoubtedly skids from the force exerted for that. "… Right."

"I think I'll stick with my two," Natishen mutters, gaping at Jessamin and the antics of her fair. "I think you have to be fair crazy to Impress more than that." Shaking his head and dismissing the plight of his fellow Candidate. "I think my two are too young - they don't seem to understand when I try to get them to take messages, I'm sorry." At Phylicia's request, he hesitates, then offers, "There were three boys who were assigned to clean the floors. They decided to do so with oil. I- I'm sure the Weyrlingmasters know who was assigned."

"Uh, maybe-" and then Satoris is making his leap of faith and Rished's just blankly staring after. "-okay? I guess that works." Oh. Right. He /was/ looking for something, wasn't he? A few bits of jerky are finally retrieved from a pocket and tossed onto the cot next to his — "Oy, 'lizards! Jerky there." And if he needs to motion at it, he will. But the smell should be enough to pull the fair's attention … he hopes. Navy, irritated at being awakened, utters a disgruntled chirp and curls back up again. "Should we still send a note?" Because he's at a loss here.

Jessamin 's flits finally release her, unable to follow her under the bed, and instead choosing to follow their noses towards the jerky. Where she chooses to remain for the moment, safe and sound—if a tad oil-logged. A bit muffled, she calls out to Natishen, "Then call me crazy, but I love 'em anyways, antics and all. At least they know better than to involve anybody else!"

Phylicia also looks to where Jessamin has disappeared underneath a cot, and hasn't emerged from yet. "Did you train them at all?" Is asked of the weaver, before quick - but legible! - writing is scrawled on the piece of paper. She tears it off of her pad, and holds it out towards Rished, making it clear what piece of paper goes. "If yours don't want to, one of mine can do it. They're used to carrying messages places." And as if on que, a blue head pokes out from underneath the pillow on her cot, where apparently the trio has been dozing. "Better safe than … more sorry, right?"

"Nothing crazy about love," Nash soothes Jessamin, though his dubious glance at her firelizards says otherwise. "Anyway," he grunts, as he adjusts himself on the cot so he's fully stretched upon it, head at the foot with his chin pillowed on his hands. "What d' you think the Weyrlingmasters will do?" he wonders, glancing again at Satoris before letting his gaze slide over the rest of the Candidates.

Rished shakes his head and nudges Navy again, this time picking him up and giving him a gentle toss in the air to get him going. The blue chirps and wings over to Phylicia, foretalons gently extended to claim the sheet. "He can do it. He's the only one that won't be distracted by food or shiny things." His smile tilts. "And they should get used to it, anyway. That's what I want them to be super-good at." He then leans a bit, peering under some of the cots to spot Jessamin. "They didn't scratch you up or anything, did they?"

Jessamin peers out from under the cot, breathing a sigh of relief as the high spirits of the moment finally seem to be passing, her faire settling down on her cot as if nothing had happened—each with a small piece of jerky in their talons. "They're not usually quite that bad, Phy. I don't mind if they play their pranks on me, but they know better than to do it to someone else. I did teach them that. At least they can get it out of their systems with me, and not bother anybody else." She shakes her head, and smiles some as she emerges from hiding, coming up to a relatively safe kneeling position. "Not at all scratched up, thanks. Just very oily and due for a dip in the hot springs after this."

Phylicia surrenders the note without any further fuss, though as Rished's blue carries it off she grins. "I should have added 'candidates stranded until floor is clean.' Just in case." She chuckles to herself afterwards, Jessamin getting a bit more of a smile from her vantage point under the cot, especially as she emerges. "You especially. Though I could do with a dip now too." As it appears, could all four of them. "Eugh. What a prank to play." That statement? That one is not a happy one.

"I'd like to be able to move without slipping first," Nash replies unhappily, staring at the shiny ground. "I'm not sure I can get out of here in one piece." Of course, they could just make a slip and slide of it. Actually, that could be fun - but he's not having fun at the moment.

Navy bounces Between purposefully, off to deliver the note to … well, someone. Whether to the one that Rished /told/ him to or someone with a similar knot, it's hard to say. Rished, for his part, just wrinkles his nose a bit. "Yeah, I think we're, uh. We're all due," he agrees, plucking a bit at his trousers. He's not nearly as oily as the rest … but, still. "I'm sure they'll figure it out when they get here," he adds to Phylicia, though his smile falters. "I /really/ hope we somehow don't get in trouble for this." Muttered.

Into the barracks stalks a presence - one might call it gloom, or even foreboding. V'dim looms in the doorway, one forearm leaning on the frame above his grizzled head. Into the gradual silence that settles as those piercing pale eyes of his sweep the barracks, his quiet words seem to words rasp more loudly than they are spoken, "Well, well. What have we here?" He almost sounds… pleased. But he's serious and clearly expects an answer as to the chaos laid out before him.

Jessamin looks a total mess, amidst the chaos of oiled floor, scattered laundry, and a faire settled down upon her cot. At least she wound up underneath her own! She looks both frightened and a little chagrined at the current situation, as she looks around at her fellow Candidates before replying. "Sir, whoever was assigned the chore of cleaning the floor in here seemed to have taken it upon themselves to do a little extra." She shakes her head with no small amount of disgust. "My mending went flying, some of us went slipping, and we're just lucky we're not in the infirmary. I think Natishen or Satoris might know who was in here before us."

Phylicia knows better than to stand up to salute the weyrlingmaster, but her face pales just a touch anyways. No, sometimes the man is just a touch too much like her Craftmaster for her peace of mind. Sitting on the trunk of someone's cot, she gives him a completely serious seated salute, her front showing signs of that oil which coats the floor. "Sir." Comes the greeting just before Jessamin's little story comes flying out. However, the healer-candidate's expression doesn't look at all thrilled about their position.

Gulp. That's the sound of Natishen's throat working audibly as V'dim stalks in. Though the Candidate hasn't had the pleasure - or pain - of having the Weyrlingmaster's attention on him alone, he clearly has heard of it. He rests belly-down upon a cot that is clearly not his own, his face and back saturated with oil - much as the floor of the barracks room is. "S- sir," he squeaks, his voice ranging between his childish treble and the hint of the baratone yet to become his own. "Uhm. There's oil on th' floor, sir, please be careful?" When Jess names him, he winces visibly and hides his face in his hands, clearly falling back on the childhood belief of 'If I can't see you, you can't see me.'

Rished is seated on the press at the foot of his bed, barefoot and making a bit of a face at just /how/ oily the floor is. It's at the arrival of the Weyrlingmaster that he starts, though he's just barely putting his feet on the floor before remembering, hey, that won't be a good idea. No words from him; he's just happy to remember to salute … and let someone else explain things far more succinctly than he would have. Navy, either having done his duty or dropped the note somewhere, pops out of Between and wings over to his bed to curl up and reclaim his previously disturbed nap.

V'dim's gimlet stare settles first on Jessamin, since she is the first to speak. He says nothing, as his wrinkled lips pull to one side. Phylicia's salute receives a grunt, nothing more. Natishen's squeaking has his hoary brows twitching up; he's not yet stepped foot inside the barracks and there's a good reason for that. He waits until the boy's face is covered, but doesn't ask him for names. Rished is among the last as his gaze takes in the mess. From behind him, a group of boys are pushed into the room and it is them that the Weyrlingmaster addresses calmly implacable, "You, you, you, you and," his pins one with a slightly crooked forefinger, "you! Will clean the floors you oiled." Jessamin, Phylicia, Natishen and Rished are pointed to next. ""You will all help the AWLMs remove the cots. All of them." His cheek twitches as he adds mildly, "Quality floortime for the next sevenday. No blankets, no pillows." And with that he turns to go, leaving the AWLMs to supervise. He can't, after all, allow the bullies to think the others got off easy?

Here is where Phylicia's jaw hits the floor. Not visibily of course, but the girl is momentarily floored. "If they wouldn't wonder, I'd just as soon run back to Stormhaven…" She mutters to herself darkly under her breath. Oh those boys who get pegged for clean up duty? She's making a note of who they are, for sure, with an unhappy glance their way. Yet still she doesn't move from her spot, not wanting to end back up on the floor. Her eyes trail up to one of the Assistants. "Do we at least get to wait until we can walk without falling? Please?"

Jessamin mutters under her breath, "Think I'd have preferred Thea this time. Even irritable with a queen on the Sands." She casts a glance back out the door, musing half to herself, "If I didn't think it'd get me de-knotted, I'd prank him. And I thought N'kor and T'eo were bad."

He went to retrieve someone, then found himself yanked in for something else. Poor Satoris. Once finished with /that/, he makes his way back to the barracks… and hears rumour on the way. He's laughing, mind you, as he approaches the door. Not like, guffaws or anything, but quiet chuckles. He overhears Jessamin as he enters. "Oh, no, I imagine Thea would have given the precisely same punishment." He's paused by the door, watching to see if the boys have begun the cleaning process yet.

"… what." He's too confused to even /ask/. It's just … a flatly dropped word that doesn't bounce into a query. "Wait. What just happened here?" A little better. Rished stares blankly at the exit after V'dim departs, unable to move just yet … except, maybe, with a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. Or his eye. "I /knew/ we would get in trouble for this somehow," he finally mutters, reaching up to scrub at his face with his hands. "Ugh." And he waits, of course, for the answer to Phylicia's question; he's not about to assume anything right now.

Jessamin says "She might have… and HAS, Satoris… but at least she'd have been pleasant about it, to a degree! I have never met such a sour soul in my life!" And for Jessamin to say that is quite something, for it is rare for the Weaver lass to speak out against -anybody-. "At least -she- left us our pillows and blankets!"

Natishen grunts unhappily. "So, even if you're bullied you still get punished. I see how it goes." He buries his face in his arms again, and from his cot, his two firelizards dart over, crooning softly as they curl up next to his neck, nuzzling.

"I think Thea finds a dark humor in it," Satoris says, smirking somewhat. "Considering I was the one who came in and took the cots from her candidacy group…" At the direction of staff, but still. He scratches at his cheek where some early growth lies. He'll need to shave soon. "Mind, in that case, it was because the candidates were lazy and disrespectful." A glance to Jessamin and he blinks briefly. "Well, did he say we weren't allowed to go get more?" A glance to Natishen and he exhales a long sigh. "In this case, yes. Candidacy is to begin teaching you the need to work hard and work together that's a neccessity if you Impress."

Phylicia looks over Jessamin's way at the weaver's … well, her whining. "You should meet my Craftmaster. She's a piece of work." The girl says as she watches the boys finally start their initial punishment of scrubbing the floors clean. The Assistant watching over this just nods from the doorway to Phylicia's question. "Of course, candidate. Don't need to be sending any of you off to the infirmary." Comes her answer, to which she nods, leaning back on the trunk.

Jessamin just shoots a chilly look at Phylicia, but shrugs as she inches towards the door—and, hopefully, more stable footing. "Think the Weyrlingmaster was pretty clear. We're stuck without blankets or pillows this time." But, she smirks, and cracks her knuckles. "Nothing says we can't use jackets and clothing and such instead. He never spoke out against that."

Rished grimaces a little and just stays where he is, feet drawn back up and legs crossed. His elbows find his thighs and his face is held in his upturned palms, his gaze drifting to the candidates who are supposed to be cleaning the whole mess up. Don't mind him; he's just going to hang out here, with his thoughts, and wait until the floor's clean enough for them to do the duty thusly assigned to them.

"Always some reason," comes Nash's muffled voice, and then he falls silent again, clearly a little too overwhelmed to join in the banter of the other Candidates. He can't exactly escape - not with the floor yet uncleaned, but he can lay there and sulk, just like the little boy he tries so hard not to be. The four Candidates who were caught have returned with scrub brushes and buckets of water, and are half-heartedly scrubbing at the floor - at this rate, it'll be late into the night before the rest of the Candidates can help clear out the cots and get some sleep - or whatever semblance of it is possible without the normal creature comforts. And Doravan does not look happy. In fact, his glares towards the others are downright murderous.

Phylicia starts a little bit at the icy look she gets from Jessamin, still perched on her trunk. However, if Doravan looks her way, her expression takes a divebomb and completely levels out to one of flat unapproval, his murderous looks get next to nothing of a rise out of her. "Look on the bright side: it's warm yet. How many blankets were you sleeping with, anyways?" She says, addressing the candidates NOT scrubbing the floor.

Satoris remains in the doorway for the moment; not yet willing to venture to the floor. He looks to the boys cleaning the floors and straightens slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Work faster," he says, voice kept low and dangerous. "You really shouldn't piss off everyone more than you already have."

Doravan eyes Satoris, but doesn't dare mouth back - whether because of the weyrlingmasters hovering nearby, eyeing the four miscreants dubiously, or because the miner himself is rather… imposing. In fact, he and his cronies do indeed begin to scrub faster, water sloshing over the oily ground and turning into a rainbow slick. Nash peeks over his arms, trying to catch Satoris's eye with a slight grin of appreciation for the older man's words.

As soon as the bullies get their scrubbing done in front of the chest she's atop of, she carefully puts one foot down, testing its traction. The other comes down too after a moment and she edges back towards the safe, her steps careful. Oh, she'll be around in the background helping, once it gets to that point.

Satoris nods slightly to himself in approval as the boys begin to work faster. He waits until they're distracted again to wink in Natishen's direction.

Natishen smiles sleepily at Satoris, then buries his head in his arms again, asleep a moment later. Wake him up when it's time to move the cots.

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