In the Kitchen [M'din]

Terken hated assigned chores.  It wasn't the principle of them he hated, as much as never knowing who he would be assigned to do chores with, and the fact that someone kept assigning him to help out in the kitchens.  There were many hazards to the Katilan kitchen, ranging from giggling girls to burning food, to fire to the women that ran the kitchen and their willingness to swat people with wooden spoons...or other implements.

He truly hated kitchen duty.  He leaned against the wall, thinking to himself that he wasn't going in there without reinforcements.  Though maybe they'd put him with someone likely to muck things up and they could get themselves kicked out for causing mayhem.  That had happened the last time he'd gotten kitchen duty.  Truly though, he couldn't help one of the spit dogs being stupid enough to pick a fight with Kela.  And he hadn't known oil plus water made columns of fire...

He waited with Kela, the canine sitting with waving tail and a happy grin, blissfully unaware she would set outside to stand guard.  Sometimes he had wished she could read her mind...but most times he wouldn't have to.  Kela was plainly thinking of meaty bones with her name on them.  She loved it when she could beg a bone from one of more soft hearted kitchen staffers.  That the bone sometimes came with a scritch and word of affection made life even better for the canine. 

Wake up, M'din, you bumpkin, moaned Armath from his hollow. The small brown flopped to his side, tail languidly stretched into the dirt road beside the hut. He'd been awake for an hour now, drifting in and out of sleep, unbothered by the hustle and bustle of the more productive members of the Weyr. He added unenthusiastically, You told me you had something to do today, whatever that means.

With a start, M'din sat bolt upright in his bed, wiping a trail of spittle from his mouth. He simultaneously thought, I'm so late for my kitchen chores, Armath! and slurred "Unghghoremath!" He tumbled from his bed as the sheets tangled between his feet, thudding to his knees with a squawk. He grabbed randomly at clothing on the floor and ended with a mismatched outfit no different than any other day's wardrobe. Haphazardly pushing his hair out of his eyes, M'din flew out of his front door with no further ablutions. He threw himself onto Armath, who grunted with displeasure, and shouted, "To the Dining Hall!" The pair blinked between with no more complaints from the sluggish dragon, who promptly dropped his rider off and proceeded to a space ideal for basking on the roof. He ignored the frazzled internal guilt of the bearded man- it would pass momentarily- who had already burst through the front door in a panic.

M'din's hefty form raced through the halls, skidding to a stop just inside the kitchen entrance at the sight of a bear-like dog. He smiled widely, not considering that the canine might dislike strangers, and reached out his left hand saying, "Hi, poochy! Big, nice, fluffy doggie." His right hand remained behind his back in a fit of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness for his physical well-being: the two broken fingers had not mended completely and were incredibly tender when touched.

Glancing upward, the brownrider spotted a serious-looking young man against a wall and assumed he was his partner in kitchen-duty, and likely displeased with his tardiness. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," he said with a sheepish grin. "I really overslept this morning-- afternoon," he corrected. The older man awkwardly extended his left hand, protecting his broken digits again, to introduce himself. Completely unaware of his disheveled appearance, he cheerfully said, "I'm M'din."

[spoiler=OOC]FYI: M'din's shirt is on inside-out, lol. Also, his broken fingers refer to an injury from this thread.

A bearlike man came sprinting down the hall and suddenly Terken had the impression that it wasn't the kitchen alone he needed to fear, but the one assigned to help him.  He looked almost as graceless as Ravana.

Kela had no such reservations.  She let her tail wave and offered the man a courtesy sniff, then decided she liked him and licked his hand, butting his hand gently in a plea for pettings. 

Deciding to offer the man the benefit of the doubt, he stood on his own two feet, taking his weight off the wall.  "It is alright.  I'm sure the kitchen staff doesn't want me in there quite yet.  I'm really bad at cooking."  He offered fair warning, shaking the man's left hand in a firm grip. 

"You hurt your other hand?"  He looked at him curiously, Kela giving him a mournful look.  "I'm Terken, sorry."  He offered up a friendly smile, looking over the man, and thinking to himself that he oddly reminded Terken of wll broken in, well stuffed armchair.  Not necessarily pretty to look at, but nice to spend time with and comfortable.  Now wasn't that an odd thought to have about the one he was sharing chores with?

Hearing one of the women wondering where their help was, he winced and edged behind M'din just a bit.  Women were scary creatures.  He'd learned that very well growing up.  He pissed them off and if he was lucky he might learn why.  Most of the time, a woman went off on him without telling him why, or acted like he was something scary.  Or they giggled, and made him wonder if he was doing something worth giggling over.  "Looks like we are...wanted."

M'din smiled at the young blonde, earnestly hoping the kitchen staff wouldn't be asking them to cook. Though his eldest son, Mariltin, was an exquisite (if unofficially trained) chef, M'din shared none of his talents and would likely set his beard aflame again if he was forced to work near a stove. "Maybe we'll be lucky and just have cleaning jobs today," the brownrider chortled. "I'm not the tidiest guy in the world, but I can wipe tables down better than I can cook. Actually, all of my kids can prepare food better than I can. Even the little ones." He intentionally forgot to mention the state of disarray his hut was currently in, hoping his cleaning crew (his brood of children) would take pity on their incapable father and put his belongings back in order. After their ministrations, his hut would last about a sevenday before falling to pieces again, and the cycle would begin anew.   

Glancing down to his fingers, M'din stumbled out, "Aparicus fell out of a tree a while back, and I caught her- well, mostly she landed on me- but I tried to catch her but broke some fingers... and a rib." He waved the thought away, "They're all healing but it's slow going and I really hope I don't accidentally re-break them." The man introduced himself as Terken, prompting M'din to ask, "Is this nice dog yours? She's very sweet, and I've never seen her in the kitchen before." He scratched the fluffy beast behind the ears, continuing, "My Armath would probably like her. I think he secretly enjoys other animals, you know."

The ladies in the kitchen loudly questioned where their workers had gotten off to, although M'din was certain they'd seen him burst through the door, and he turned to his comrade, "I think you're right. Let's go see what the gals needs." He rounded the corner to the older women- a squat brunette standing beside an oven and a taller gray-haired woman with a stern face and arms akimbo. He approached the severe woman, whose air of authority labeled her as the head kitchenworker, and sincerely said, "Please forgive me, madame. I'm the reason we're late, but I promise we'll do whatever you need in quick order." Her face didn't soften, but she turned away from them muttering about dishes and soap. Pointing a long finger at the largest pile of dirty plates, bowls, and pans that M'din had ever seen, she glared at the rider until he meekly questioned, "I guess that's ours then?" A sharp nod was the only response she gave before gliding out of the kitchen.

Left alone, M'din looked to Terken with a strained grin, "I guess this is better than cooking." He poked his bearded face around a corner, double checking that the head kitchenworker was out of earshot. "She was much friendlier to me this time. Last month she bonked me on the head with a spoon for dropping her meatrolls."

I'm sorry for the delay, and thank you for your patience! Also, Terken's armchair analogy made me lol.

Terken didn't whimper as he entered the kitchen with M'din though he wanted to.  A single command to Kela sent her padding outside, the canine sighing and curling up in the spot usually appointed for her to settle in while Terken played in the kitchen. 

"Kela's mine.  Raised her myself and she's chosen to stay by me today.  I think her puppies were driving her crazy."  He paused then and added, "I'm sorry you were hurt.  We'll try and be careful with your fingers."

Terken let M'din speak for them as they found the kitchen workers, almost relaxing as he saw the dishes.  It wasn't cooking!  He spoke quietly to M'din.  "She has a soft spot for Kela, as long as she stays out of her kitchen.  She usually slips me a bone for her when I'm working here."  He started organizing the dishes quickly, stacking like with like.  Working quickly, he said, "I scrub, you rinse and dry?  Should be easier on your hand." 

Calling the head worker over he asked simply, "Any of these you need right now for cooking?"  She blinked then in a manner that was almost friendly, told him to wash three of the pots and all the knives before anything else.  He nodded and nudged those to the front of the line.  Filling the sink with hot water and soap sand, he grabbed the grimiest pot first, rinsing it thoroughly then beginning to scrub it out with expert ease. 

He'd been taught this, first by his mother, then by assorted kitchen workers.  Chores took up less time when you did them right the first time, he had found.  And oddly, the head cook seemed to turn a blind eye to him filching a rare meal once he'd gotten competent at this.  He would have been shocked to know it was his lack of complaints and general competence with dishwashing that got him on kitchen rotation so often!  Of course when she wasn't there, he would end up being pressed into cooking duties which never went well. 

He worked away on his pot, his stance relaxing as he worked.  Terken liked physical activity.  Washing dishes would never be as good as outside work but for inside work, it wasn't half bad.  A clean, but soap pot was slid gently into the neighboring sink, and Terken got to work on the next pot. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, M'din took his place beside the younger man who already stood elbow deep in soapy water. It was exceedingly generous of Terken to take the harder job to spare M'din's fingers, and he had no reservations telling him so. "Thanks for watching out for me. Not everyone is so thoughtful," he said cheerfully. "I'm still happy we're not cooking," he muttered as an afterthought.

Taking the clean pots between his knees, sending a cascade of water down his front in a pattern reminiscent of wetting himself, M'din paid no heed to the wetness on his legs as he dried. He found his one-handed method surprisingly effective at keeping up with Terken's speed. "I imagine everyone likes Kela," he chatted, "especially if she's got little babies running around these days."

His middle son, Michin, was genuine animal lover who would make an excellent Beastcrafter if he'd been trained from the start. He'd adore meeting Kela and her brood. As he swung his damp towel over his shoulder and placed the finished pot on an empty table, M'din secretly held out hope that his children would Impress, regardless of what color they stood for. It was a hard life for a Weyrbrat without a dragon, and he remembered painfully how disrespected he'd been by his own brothers before Armath hatched. (The bullying lessened substantially afterwards, but they still prodded at him for not having a bronze.) In his dreams, M'din imagined his five children would Impress one of every color, keeping with tradition of his rider-laden line. He and his siblings had all Impressed, even if some were a little later in life. His sister, Khindra, was twenty-six turns before Toboreth found her!

He glanced up to the stern head kitchenworker with a bearded grin. It appeared the disciplined woman didn't mind a friendly conversation so long as the pots and knives were washed in a timely manner. The brownrider nodded contently to himself. For such a bumpy start, his chores were turning out rather pleasantly.

"So you're a Beastcrafter then? I've never seen a dog behave so well for anyone who hadn't been trained to teach them." He reached for the next dish in the soapy pile, "Are you planning on standing in the near future?" Oblivious to the fact that he was prying into the life of a newly met acquaintance, M'din continued lightly, "It's a bit intimidating to keep standing and watching everyone else find their dragon, while you leave the sands empty-handed. I was pretty convinced I'd never be a rider, but Armath popped out of an egg when I was twenty-two and the rest is history."

Terken offered up a grin and relaxing a bit.  "Me too.  People have tried to teach me how to cook, but it just doesn't seem to stick."  He shrugged.  "Usually everyone's happier when I stay out of the kitchen, but I think the headwoman doesn't like me.  I've created chaos here too many times.  I'm told she keeps asking me to be posted here."  He thought the woman was punishing him for the chaos, but truly there were worse things in life than washing dishes. 

Terken listened to M'din speak wondering why everyone around him got chatty.  He resigned himself to conversation, the dragonrider seemed friendly enough and he didn't want to alienate him.  "My mother was a beastcrafter.  Taught me all I know, and I handraised Kela.  She was supposed to join the other dogs guarding the herds, but kept coming back to find me, so eventually I let her stay." 

The row between him and his mother over that had been fearful.  She hadn't been happy he'd made a pet of Kela and had threatened to cull her if he didn't find a use for her.  He had in time, helping him with hunting, but for the first little bit after she had made herself his, he had been petrified his mother would kill the dog.  T'rel had been no help, not understanding why any son of his would enjoy the company of a dog.

Turning his thoughts away from unpleasant thoughts, or at least those unpleasant thoughts, he answered the second question.  "I will be standing soon, yes.  I'm not sure I want to impress."  Except...B'sen.  He sighed and let soap sand trickle through his finger as he thought then continued scrubbing the pot.  "My dad's a bronzerider, wants me to impress a bronze.  I absolutely didn't want to impress, but seeing a friend after a flight changed my mind recently.  I'd like to be able to take a leadership role and protect those under me."  He shrugged.  "I feel silly for wanting that when before all I wanted was to be left alone to work with my canines."

Looking at M'din, he thought a moment.  "Armath is a beautiful dragon, I've seen him flying around.  Did you have to learn anything special, being a brownrider?"  He was wondering if they taught the riders leadership, though from what little he knew of, dragonrider education depended by and large on who was teaching them. 

M'din chuckled as he wiped down the dripping pot. "Maybe she's trying to teach you how to be in the kitchen without starting a fire." The headwoman was certainly stern, but was generally forgiving if a wayward soul didn't mind reconciling past mistakes with a bit of elbow grease. He'd learned that the hard way. "No wonder Kela loves you so much," M'din added. He approved of Terken's obvious command over animals, likely due to his even-keeled and serious nature. Authoritative but not overbearing. Shit, M'din would follow him any day, much less a dog.

Setting the dried pot on the table behind him, the brownrider reached for another from Terken's pile, still careful not to use his tender right hand. "Ah, that sounds a lot like my dad. I had two older brothers too, and all three of them were bronzeriders. They made fun of me a lot for taking so long to Impress, but it got better after Armath hatched. Though... they still looked down on me for being a brownrider." He scratched lightly at his beard, subsequent suds went unnoticed. "I didn't care after that though. Bonding to Armath was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I knew they were wrong for thinking my dragon was worth less than theirs just because he didn't sparkle." Though he didn't feel the need to make Terken privy to the story, M'din's eldest brother, S'khen, had punched him in the mouth for that exact statement. M'din never regretted that moment: the pain was worth the fleeting look of rage on his brother's face, contorted into a defensive snarl of a man disgraced.

"I'm just a Wingrider, not a leader, but I think you've got really good reasons for wanting to be a rider." M'din nodded absently, wiping droplets from the rim of his pot, "It's a responsibility too, so don't feel silly for changing your mind about it every now and then. Impressing is a life altering act, and being wary of drastic changes like that is totally normal." He vividly remembered the days of self-doubt and resignation after his twentieth nameday passed dragonless. Even sweet M'din was capable of bitter anger at the eggs that didn't hatch for him, and the temporary depression that followed was no less agonizing. Thank Faranth for his sister, Khindra, and her constant encouragements.

Terken's compliment to Armath made M'din smile widely, suds still dripping through his beard, and he answered, "That's so nice of you to say. Armath doesn't handle compliments well, but I'll let him know you think he's a good flier. He'll like that." He shook his head when Terken asked about learning something specifically aimed at brownriders. "No, like most riders (barring gold, naturally) I was thrown into a new world with bare bones training from Candidate lessons, and nothing more."

Pursing his lips, he considered that it wasn't a bad idea to have color-specific classes post-Impression, so long as everyone was adequately trained. "It is different being a brownrider. We're obviously not chromatics and don't typically have the same sort of authority, but a lot of people consider us higher up on the social ladder than blues and greens, which I think is silly. It means brownriders have to be flexible and try to help anyone who needs it."

He glanced to the blonde, "What color do you think you'll get?" 

Not sure if T'rel had been officially promoted to Wingleader at this point in time, but let me know if he was. M'din would definitely know him a bit better if so, lol.

A quirky grin was offered and Terken said, "Probably.  It isn't the kitchen that's so scary though, it's the women who work here."  He shook his head.  "All ever changing moods and giggles.  Can't figure out what they're thinking or what they want."  That he was supposed to willingly lie down with one of them and do whatever it was that one did with a woman to sire a child someday soon was the scary thought. 

A look to M'din as he spoke of his impression and the subsequent trail of suds left behind had Terken cracking a smile, unable to help it, though he hoped M'din would know he wasn't laughing at him.  Terken finished the last of the pot, starting in on one of the knives, scouring the food off it and handing it to M'din hilt first. 

He had heard of the man's clumsiness and would take this part slowly.  He didn't want him hurt, again.  Cuts on top of broken fingers would leave him miserable.  "I'm hoping a blue or a brown."  He hmmed softly.

"I don't know what color I'll impress though, except for not gold."  He hmmed, thinking over his words about the blues and greens.  "I always found the weyr hierarchy a little odd.  Always thought such things should be judged on merit.  Greens are so common from what I see, that it's hard to say they only impress the incompetents, and the blues too...We're in a weyr where a brownrider is leading.  Surely that would be enough to make people take notice.  I'm worried if I impress brown I'll be expected to have ambitions to lead more than a wing though.  I'm not even sure I want that much responsibility but I shouldn't have to worry about it for a long time."

He began work on the second knife once the first was dry and handed it off when it was clean, asking, "How about you.  Did you have any ambitions and do you have any now?"

Cautiously accepting the knife's hilt, M'din managed to a suppress a laugh at Terken's concerns with the opposite gender as he dried it. "Not all of them are giggly," he happily replied, mind turning to Peorray on impulse. He wondered how his friend was doing lately- it had been almost two sevendays since he'd seen her- though he was more than certain she could take care of herself. "It's a matter of finding the right one and being just as straightforward with her as she is with you." In reality M'din knew it was rarely that simple, but he'd been mercifully blessed with practical, devoted women disinterested in the more frivolous aspects of a lady's life.

M'din cracked his uninjured knuckles against his leg, a habit he'd developed as a child and had never bothered to break, and nodded thoughtfully as Terken talked about dragons. Armath tickled his mind; he'd obviously been eavesdropping. Tell him brown is obviously better. M'din ignored his bonded with a wry grin, but said, "You can guess I'm partial to browns, but there's nothing wrong with any color. The dragons always make the right choice."

Terken's concerns about the color hierarchy were valid, as Katila was far from a meritocracy. "I think everyone should be allowed progress at their own pace, or not move up the ladder at all if that's what they want. No one can force you into something you don't want, especially a leadership position." Hell, M'din had managed to avoid notice for nearly a decade, and had never given a second thought to his social status, regardless of what people said behind his back.

"I wouldn't call them ambitions," M'din smiled broadly. "But I think I'd like to teach one day." Again, Peorray came to mind. She seemed to enjoy his discussions about Impression, and her tacit encouragement had led him to consider applying for a Weyrlingmaster's Assistant position. He still had his doubts, but at least he wouldn't be completely in charge of a group of Hatchlings and their overwhelmed riders. He'd just be the helpful bearded guy on the side!

Clearing his throat, M'din hoped he wasn't stepping on Terken's toes by saying, "If your dad is anything like mine, he wants a lot for you that you may not. My advice is to do what makes you happy."

Terken could only give M'din a level look at his assertion that not all women were giggly, then thought, seriously thought on the women he knew, now and in the past.

Ravana came to mind first.  He'd seen her out and out laugh, or even chuckle, but never giggle and she gave the feeling she was laughing with him, not at him.  His mother had seldom laughed or even smiled, let alone giggled.  Parella had giggled, but never in the way that made him wonder if he was being made fun of.  It was mostly the younger ones that giggled in that way...maybe as women aged they grew into more sensible creatures?

M'din was speaking again, drawing the young man from his thoughts.  "I've heard they do.  And browns have their own special something.  I don't know what I like best, but all the colors are beautiful."  He listened as M'din kept talking, thinking over what he'd been told.  Shelving the thought of leadership for now her smiled as he spoke.  "You're patient and kind.  And you've a knack for explaining things.  I think you'll be a good teacher." 

He couldn't help but tense at the mention of his father, then looked down and away, ashamed of the reaction.  "I hope to."  He knew he'd people fighting for that for him, and it scared him that they were willing to fight for him. 

He didn't say much more for a long time, finally finishing the knives, and starting on the endless pile of plates.  When he was ready, he spoke again. 

"How did you find the nerve to tell you father you were heading your own way?"  He asked it softly, then blanched a bit.  "I'm sorry, that's deeply personal and I shouldn't have asked."

Puffing up proudly at Terken's compliment- why were all these people so impressed with his explanations? Armath hounded him for his vagueness and lack of eloquence on a daily basis- M'din grinned as he accepted the first plate from the beastcrafter. His smile washed away as they fell into a long silence after the mention of T'rel, and just as M'din was about to apologize for overstepping his boundaries, Terken continued with a hesitant question about his own father.

"My dad, M'khen, is a bronzerider," M'din began easily; he'd no desire to frighten his young companion by detailing M'khen's cruelty, but wouldn't lie about the years of abuse at the hands of his male family members, "We went our separate ways during the Exile, and I honestly don't know if he's alive or not anymore. I'm just grateful that he isn't around to treat my kids the way he treated me."

Brushing off Terken's concerns, he said, "And it's not too personal, don't worry. I think we've got a lot in common and I know you understand." He wiped the plate distractedly, thinking of his early life at home in Fort. "It wasn't that M'khen really hit me or anything, not too much physically, but he wanted things from me, shiny bronze things, that I couldn't give him like my older brothers did." E'dar and S'khen had made bronze Impressions look simple.

"I never directly fought with him, but my dad turned my own brothers against me for that, my own dad, and it hurt every day knowing he would be disappointed in me even if I met his arbitrary goals. It was, I don't know, emotional abuse?" M'din shrugged, offering Terken a small smile to lighten the situation. "Anyway, I took my mom and sister's advice and stopped trying to prove something to him, and was suddenly happy again. Then I Impressed Armath and it was like- whoa- this is beyond perfect. I never needed a shiny dragon to be complete."

Setting the dried plate on the table behind them, M'din added, "So, I basically just stopped playing his game, and now I'm totally focused on being as good a father as I can be to my own kids. It's a lot of fun. You should meet them sometime." 

Terken listened, seemingly focused on the plate he was scrubbing.  Subtle signs showed that he was listening though.  He thought about what he'd heard for a long moment. 

T'rel had snapped while they were in the jungle.  T'ken suspected his mother had had something to do with it.  Him injuring Berruth though.  He took whatever T'rel dished out because it was his fault that Berruth was injured.  And it hadn't been after that injury that Berruth became the servile thing he was now.  T'rel had made it plain that his dragon losing most of his mind was Terken's fault as well. 

Terken still blamed himself.  As his mother had descended into insanity, her mind games had...Ravana dealing herself in had saved his mind in so many ways.  What had it cost her to save him? 

Terken shook his thoughts from his parents, then spoke softly.  "What are your kids like?"  It was a feeble attempt to change the subject, to get M'din talking about something that would make him happy.  But the look on his face when he'd mentioned them had shown him that M'din loved his children.  Talking about the things people loved made them mostly happy.

He added, "I've probably spent time with them, but most of the time I was in the creche I was focused on how to get out."  Learning to be social was harder than he'd expected.  Finding that he needed more than Kela more so.

That reminded him, he would need to get her a bone on the way out of here when they were done, if she hadn't already conned one from a kitchen worker.  She was entirely too good at convincing the people around her that she hadn't eaten in weeks.  He even fell for it, and he was the one that fed her, twice daily.