Afternoon Projects

Xanadu Weyr - Store Room
The storerooms here are carved into the stone, stretching back deep underground beneath the upper hallways that serve for residences and work areas. There is, after all, little need for natural light here; a series of electric lights are more than sufficient to illuminate smoothly cut walls and the assortment of supplies kept until they are needed once more.

For some of the things here, that time will be long in coming. Broken furniture and torn clothing awaits the opportunity for someone to repair it - or else the kindling and rag piles. Other items are more immediately useful; gently worn clothing and boots are neatly arranged in rows and on racks, especially in the quickly outgrown children's sizes, and an assortment of furniture and small appliances in functional condition await new homes.

A series of side rooms connected to the kitchen are the larder which feeds the Weyr through the winter. Sacks of grain lean against barrels of salted meat and wheels of hard cheeses stacked high. Refrigeration and dragonflight make for a more flexible winter diet, but it still takes a great deal of food to provide for this many people. The food is a tempting target for tunnelsnakes, and the occasional scuttle can be heard in the otherwise quiet depths of these caves.

Toward the southern edge, near the path leading down to the hot springs, there's the laundry rooms, a set of steam-filled chambers where water and soap are scrubbed into fabric of various sorts and the dirt and grime is scrubbed right back out.

Much of the stores are easily accessed, requiring only the appropriate permissions to be borrowed from. These supplies are, after all, here for the good of the Weyr and the people living here. A few rooms - those containing particularly valuable or dangerous items - are kept locked.

When they aren't touching the eggs, the candidates are in some form of lessons for preparation of the BIG DAY. When they aren't doing that there are chores to keep the candidates out of mischief. Now usually the white knotted folk are older and generally less inclined to avoid mischief. However sometimes they are a little younger. Like Zachariah. He's not too young, at the halfway point between 16 and 17, butttt….he's not that old either. So what mischief has he gotten into? Actually it's the boring 'i'm lost while running errands' kind. However he doesn't seem to be in distress as he wanders the tunnels and ends up…here. In the storeroom. Whatever errand he was running, likely for the kitchens since he once more has spots of flour on hs pants, it is forgotten as he's wandering the storerooms in exploration to see what is here. Currently he's hunkered down cross legged on the floor with a bit of wood in his lap that is likely part of some broken furniture.

Having opted for additional harper lessons, Padjma, who is certainly a little older, may spend a little more time in classes than some among their number; playing catch-up during what could otherwise be a free period when one doesn't have duty in the afternoon means that she might be peeking at little sheets of notes and mouthing their contents silently while turning down this hallway and that — and one such turn, whether wrong or not, sends her through a passage into the main stores cavern. There's a little frown once she tucks the palm-sized papers into a trouser pocket that deepens once pale eyes settle on the nearest set of shelves, followed by an impatient, little huff. Weight pivoting back to one heel, she looks poised to backtrack the way she came, but for the glance that tilts toward the boy seated on the floor. "Watch for splinters, " she warns easily, expression turning curious. "Wouldn't you get a better view closer to one of the lights over there?"

Zachariah waves off the warning of splinters with one hand holding a long board of wood, narrowly missing his head with the movement. "No worries of splinters and the lighting over there may be better but the seating on the floor here." now he indicates underneath him with a gesture with his non-wood holding hand. "Is a better slope." a pause. "And closer to my project." which would be a really broken and falling apart wooden chair that does not look safe by any means. The other candidate only gets a quick slashing look before his gaze falls back upon his project at hand.

"Your project, " the dark-haired girl repeats dubiously, as her attention shifts briefly to the aforementioned, nearby chair. "Did they ask you to repair that? Alone?" Really, Padjma may as well have enunciated every syllable of, is it quite safe? One foot slides back to sit parallel with the other, the better to even out her posture so that she can fold her hands over her chest in the wake of that look, eyebrows arching slightly.

Okay. Technically it's not his project. It's simply a broken bit of furniture stored and likely forgotten in this storage room along with plenty of other broken and forgotten things. But…for the moment it is a project that Zach is focused on. Focused so much that there's a flash of irritation as he once more rips his attention away from said 'project' to look towards Padjma who is still there and speaking to him. Quickly though he remembers his manners and replies in a quiet tone with only the barest hint of annoyance at this interruption. Unable to actually lie he hedges. "Well I wasn't actually asked you see." he lays down the bit of broken lumber which indeed is jagged enough that the risk of splinters is there. "I found it." his chin juts out in stubbornness. "This could be considered part of my tasks today." it's not but he's trying reaaaaally hard to justify this adventure. "And besides." he adds with a narrowed eyed look over towards Padjma. "You aren't the bo…." he rethinks this sentence halfway through and changes it to a simple. "It's safe enough." no explanation on why he thinks it's safe when quite possibly, it's not.

Padjma permits herself a small, if not terribly mirthful sort of smile. "How helpful of you, " she notes cheerfully enough that it certainly sounds genuine. "I'm sure you'll be presenting some assistant steward or other with a repaired chair as a bonus at the end of the day." That little smile widens slightly at Zachariah's defiant half-sentence; this time, she does look amused. "Well, you seem to have it all well enough in hand, " and although it goes unspoken, the appellation of 'kid' probably hangs in the beat that follows.

One brow rises ever so slightly. Just one. The left one. Deep breath in and disgruntled breath out. "I'm not a kid." he replies to the unspoken word with annoyance. "I've repaired plenty of things while living with my parents in the caravan." is his explanation. Note he doesn't say well but we'll assume that he is capable of repairing well. Maybe? "Is there something I can help you with?" he does attempt to put politness in his tone. "You lost?" he asks sweetly.

"No one said that you were, " points out Padjma patiently, "although you don't look like you're quite twenty. Seventeen, perhaps eighteen?" Something wary flickers over her features at the mention of a caravan, smoothing away a second later. "A useful skill to have while traveling, no doubt, " she says while turning as if to head back up the passage to the main hallway. Can he help her? Mildly, "I don't suppose you can. You've quite a bit of work ahead of you, after all. Good afternoon." And unless there's further rejoinder from the aspiring repairman behind her, she's for the doorway and whatever tasks she has for the remainder of the day.

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