Not the Dung!

Writers: Avery, Curious
Date Posted: 6th October 2021

Characters: L'saz, I'rad
Description: Irradis does chores with a reluctant Larsaz, and misreads his reactions.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 6 of Turn 10

One thing Irradis liked about being in the lower caverns was that his
job duties always changed. He rather being assigned to different chores
for the period before the Hatching, it was a good way to get to know new
Candidates. With the Hatching coming up soon, there seemed to be more
new faces streaming in every day. Today for chore rotation he was paired
with Larsaz, and they were put on stable sweeping.

He hadn't met Larsaz yet, all he saw was the name of the other boy on
the sheet. Older? Younger? Someone who was nice? Well, he could hope so,
as he walked up to the chore point.

Larsaz was not particularly impressed by what he had seen of Dolphin
Cove Weyr thus far. Sure, it was big and grand and objectively
impressive, but the chores were absolutely wretched. However, out of all
of them, stable sweeping had to be the worst. It managed to combine the
indignity of manual labor with the disgusting nature of runner shit in
one horrendously dirty task that he wanted no part of.

So naturally it was what he had been assigned to. Fortunately, he wasn't
the only one who was assigned to it, which meant that he might just have
an out.

Larsaz hardly bothered to actually look at Irradis as he strode into the
stables. He just crossed his arms, leaned against the stable wall - then
flinched back once he realized that he was leaning against a /stable
wall/. "Eugh," he grumbled, brushing a bit of dirt off his shoulder.
Then, turning back to Irradis, he said, "Not sure why they sent me - you
look like you've got this under control."

"Because they probably need three of us, with this many runners,"
Irradis said. He turned to look at Larsaz. "Did you come from a place
with runners?"

"Yes, but _I_ didn't tend to them," Larsaz pointedly said. "Wouldn't it
make more sense to assign me to something that's more to my skillset?"

“What’s your skill set?” Irradis asked. “They assign us every type of
chore here so that we’re prepared for anything we’re going to have to
deal with in weyrling hood.”

"I am a _tastemaker_," Larsaz said, not even trying to keep the
pretentious air out of his voice. "I have excellent taste in food,
fashion, and the finer things in life. I tell my peers about what I find
that delights, and they trust my judgment. It may seem odd to you, but
trust me, people like me play an important role in fine society."

Irradis raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "So how does that contribute to
the basic running of a Weyr? Like, what job task is that going to be
under? You could taste the food you're cooking, or judge the laundry
you're washing, or the quality of the goods you're inventorying. But you
also need to learn to shovel runner dung, because if you Impress,
there's going to be dragon dung. So much dragon dung."

Larsaz waved a dismissive hand. "That's menial work. I'm from different
circles. Although, I wouldn't expect Weyrfolk like you to understand.
Everything's all... Muddled here." He wrinkled his nose, distaste
working its way across his face, before he continued. "Anyway, I don't
see why we should have to shovel dung because we _might_ impress.
There's a much better chance that we won't. At least, I'm not putting my
marks on it."

Correction - he _knew_ that he wasn't going to impress. No good could
come from outright telling the candidate that he had been searched on a
bribe though, so it was best to just let him think that he was a
pessimist. Or, you know, not overly enthusiastic about a life filled
with dragon dung.

"What wouldn't you expect us to understand? The importance of doing your
own tasks?" he asked. Shards, but this guy was going to be a pain.

"Why this sort of work is a waste of my time," Larsaz said, shrugging.
"It's like I said, the Weyr is all muddled. You people have no true
sense of class or hierarchy. A drudge could be put to work shoveling
dung instead of one of us, but they're using us because... Why? On the
off chance that you'll impress?" He crossed his arms and shook his head
disapprovingly. "It's ridiculous."

"What do you think Candidates should be doing instead?"

Larsaz faltered for a moment. Then he composed himself and said,
"Whatever they're actually good at." Which, vitally, would leave him
doing something _other_ than cleaning runner stalls.

"Well, there's no role for a tastemaker in the Weyr," Irradis said, "so
you're going to wind up in the kitchen and the laundry and the stables
for awhile, until you Impress."

Larsaz snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bet on it. I'm
only here for the one hatching, so it's more than likely that I'll be
gone within a few sevendays."

“You’re going back after?” He asked in surprise.

"Of course," Larsaz said. "I know you weyrfolk might be all gung-ho
about it, but I'm not about your sort of... Lifestyle."

"Just what about it don't you like? Manual labor?"

Larsaz shot Irradis a flat look. "I don't like the _impropriety_," he
said. "Men traipsing with other men, women doing Farath knows what,
bastards as far as the eye can see; it's not natural."

"Those things happen at the Holds and Halls, they're more concealed,"
Irradis said. "I thought a guy like you might take advantage of the
women-who-do-Faranth-knows-what while you're here. Sow your seeds and
enjoy yourself before you go home to marry someone else. Is that not
what you want?"

"Rude," Larsaz said, crossing his arms. Once again, he almost leaned
against the stable wall before remembering that it was the _stable wall_
and catching himself at the last second. "That might be the way for some
of the more irresponsible deviants that come here, but I'm not like
that. I just-"

Larsaz abruptly closed his mouth. Had he said too much? He'd gotten too
into the conversation, forgotten that it could be bad news for him if
someone figured out that he didn't actually care about dragons or want
to impress. But shards, he'd already implied it heavily enough, and
there was no taking that back now. Maybe if he just stayed vague it
would be alright.

"I just want to stand and then get on with me life," he finished airily.

Irradis raised an eyebrow. He wondered if someone had pushed Larsaz into
it. "If your parents made you accept Search, you could have said no."

The look that flashed across Larsaz's face was an immediate giveaway
that Irradis had come close to the truth. Truth, but not a full match.
The full truth was something that he _absolutely couldn't_ voice. As
such, he floundered for a moment before saying, "It's more complicated
than that."

"If you say so. But look, if you're unhappy here... talk to the
Headwoman and she'll figure something out for you. If you're trying
to...I don't know, escape a marriage, or your parents pushing you into
it." Irradis was feeling bad for needling the boy now.

"...Sure," Larsaz said, looking away." Thanks. But I'm pretty good at
getting myself out of tricky situations, so I should be fine." After
all, it was only one hatching.

"And that's why you're trying to get out of this, now. But you're not
gonna. If you don't want to sweep up the dung, fine, but how about
forking in clean dried hay?"

Larsaz huffed in displeasure, then took a reluctant step away from the
wall. "_Fine_," he said. "As long as I don't have to touch the dung."

"Deal," Irradis said, ready to get down to work.

Last updated on the February 10th 2022

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Not the Dung!