13.Apr.14, 11:52 AM
Peorray stood with hands on hips and surveyed her surroundings thoughtfully. The storeroom was in a state of cluttered mess- half the things in it still packed up from the last move, and half either being used or having been poked into piecemeal as people began to realize that the move was close and they needed one last thing.
It was somewhat funny from the perspective of one who wasn't going, to watch the rest of the Weyr flutter about like headless chickens. But it was also a remainder that she wasn't going with them, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that yet. So she did what she always did when so conflicted, and sought out work to keep her busy. It might not solve the original problem, but at least the distraction usually made her feel accomplished about something.
Today, her task was to try and sort out which supplies were destined for Telgar and which stayed here, and to make sure each were labeled clearly in an attempt to see that they actually saw their proper destination some time this decade. She'd been assured of help and quickly discovered she'd need it as she bent to peer at the tag already on one of the boxes. Her reading had vastly improved since coming to Katila, but the sloppier handwriting styles still gave her trouble. "This chicken-scratch is worse than mine- how do they expect anyone to read this?" She demanded of the air around her, annoyed at the nameless offender.
It was somewhat funny from the perspective of one who wasn't going, to watch the rest of the Weyr flutter about like headless chickens. But it was also a remainder that she wasn't going with them, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that yet. So she did what she always did when so conflicted, and sought out work to keep her busy. It might not solve the original problem, but at least the distraction usually made her feel accomplished about something.
Today, her task was to try and sort out which supplies were destined for Telgar and which stayed here, and to make sure each were labeled clearly in an attempt to see that they actually saw their proper destination some time this decade. She'd been assured of help and quickly discovered she'd need it as she bent to peer at the tag already on one of the boxes. Her reading had vastly improved since coming to Katila, but the sloppier handwriting styles still gave her trouble. "This chicken-scratch is worse than mine- how do they expect anyone to read this?" She demanded of the air around her, annoyed at the nameless offender.