26.Jan.12, 10:30 PM
This was completely beneath him, and Erisi wasn't just saying that. The young man was fairly confident that dish scrubbing was not in his job description. He was a Harper - at the very least he would instruct children over cleaning up after the slobs that this makeshift Weyr contained. His point was that his talents applied to a vastly different area of skills than the one they were forcing upon him. Sure, other candidates were getting stuck with the same tasks, or even worst ones, but if anyone in this Weyr had any sense, they'd give meaningless tasks to people who couldn't do anything else. That was what Erisi would have done, and well, he was fairly confident that the way he wanted things done was the right way for things to be done in.
Black hair was falling into his eyes, but he didn't dare brush them back with his hands - for one, they were dirty because the dishes were even more than disgusting; and secondly, the water had long ago soaked his hands, and he did not enjoy the feel of them touching the dishes let alone his own face. It was very likely at this point that Erisi was pissed at his own hair, rather than his general situation. If he had any more of a rebellious streak in him, though, he would have just not done his chores like he was supposed to. The threat of being put back on the sharding island was enough to get him to do what was requested of him. He wasn't a dimglow. He'd rather bake to death in a place with some luxury than a sandy beach with none.
He was sitting down with his legs crossed one of the other, and to his right was a pile of dirty dishes, and to his left was a pile of clean (if not a little soapy) dishes. He considered it a job well-done, because as far as he was concerned it was a sharding miracle that he was doing this in the first place. Erisi had successfully segregated himself from the other workers, because it was far easier to brood on his own than it was in a group. His lips were pressed in a thin line, brows knitted as he furiously scrubbed a plate down. Oh yeah, this was definitely beneath him. Erisi had sunken to an all time low, just by touching a single dish that he did not dirty himself. He could pick up after himself fine, it was picking up after others that he had an entire dragon-sized bag full of issue with.
He wasn't a team player sometimes, to put things nicely.
Black hair was falling into his eyes, but he didn't dare brush them back with his hands - for one, they were dirty because the dishes were even more than disgusting; and secondly, the water had long ago soaked his hands, and he did not enjoy the feel of them touching the dishes let alone his own face. It was very likely at this point that Erisi was pissed at his own hair, rather than his general situation. If he had any more of a rebellious streak in him, though, he would have just not done his chores like he was supposed to. The threat of being put back on the sharding island was enough to get him to do what was requested of him. He wasn't a dimglow. He'd rather bake to death in a place with some luxury than a sandy beach with none.
He was sitting down with his legs crossed one of the other, and to his right was a pile of dirty dishes, and to his left was a pile of clean (if not a little soapy) dishes. He considered it a job well-done, because as far as he was concerned it was a sharding miracle that he was doing this in the first place. Erisi had successfully segregated himself from the other workers, because it was far easier to brood on his own than it was in a group. His lips were pressed in a thin line, brows knitted as he furiously scrubbed a plate down. Oh yeah, this was definitely beneath him. Erisi had sunken to an all time low, just by touching a single dish that he did not dirty himself. He could pick up after himself fine, it was picking up after others that he had an entire dragon-sized bag full of issue with.
He wasn't a team player sometimes, to put things nicely.