All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

07-06-01: Laundry
With a woven laundry basket beneath one arm, the other waving with delighted effulgence, Hanneke makes a dash for the...

With a woven laundry basket beneath one arm, the other waving with delighted effulgence, Hanneke makes a dash for the caverns, skipping with breezy nonchalance towards a table towards the centre of the room. She sets the basket down, peering into it with unveiled delight, then sits, smoothing her skirt out before her hands move to grasp at the first item within the basket. "Hihi!" she trills.

Zureile is between chores at the moment, so she looks more than a little worried as Hanneke enters. She'd say that she'd finished her chores, except that there never seemed to be an end. So, instead of waiting around for a dragonrider to find her idle, she decides to give Hanneke a hand. "Hey, Hanneke. Want a hand with that?" Zureile moves towards the basket, reaching out a helping hand.

For a change of pace, Hanneke beams, stating, "Hey, Hey, Zureile!" The garment in her hand -- someone's horribly lacy slip -- is folded with several rapid movements. "Oh, okay!" Help, meaning, company, is always of great use. "I'm just folding the laundry. Easy, right?" The folded slip is given a nasty glance, "Look at all the lace! It's *horrible*," before she sets it down upon the table, wiping off some crums before it rests.

[doubtfire] Zureile laughs. Right now would be the perfect time to insert a "but you can make my life more complete by impressing" bit. I could even make it funny... but you never know how they'll take it. Wish I had the guts to. I'd even include a part about licking the tears off of my face in dissappointment if I didn't. :P

Zureile reaches out to grab a shirt, folding it absently as she returns Hanneke's grin. Phew... it seems that the other candidate had gotten over her anger at the hair-cutting episode. Still folding without watching, Zureile begins to make idle conversation. Hey, she's with the queen of babblers. Why not? "It is horrible," she agrees. "I'm glad it's not mine. I'd look horrible in it." She lays the shirt down on top of the slip, and reaches in for the next one. She really should watch what she's doing. The shirt she just folded doesn't look much better than when she took it out of the basket.

Hanneke may have gotten over it, but reminding would do far more harm than good. Her hair, no longer worn in ringlets, but in lengthy waves, is tossed over her shoulder as her brow furrows, and she moves to retake the shirt recently set down by Zureile, methodically folding it into something far more presentable. Without saying a word, for a wonder, she sets it down again, moving for another piece. "Some people have *icky* things! No taste!"

Speaking of no taste, Zureile doesn't have much. Actually, it's more like no tact, because reminding Hanneke of her hair is one of the first things she does. "You're hair looks really good like that, Hanneke." Hey, she feels proud of herself. It was her first haircut ever, and just look at how it turned out! She finshes folding the pair of pants she has in her hands, actually managing to do a fairly decent job, before reaching in to pull out an intricately cut shirt. Uh-oh. There's no telling how she'll fold this one. "Really, you should have your hair short all the time. It frames your face well." She changes topics, completely unaware of how her statements might affect the other girl. "Say, have you finished your robe yet?"

Hanneke's lips, moments previously opening to emit a statement, shut tight, a hard line that suits her face not at all. She tosses several strands of the tawny honey mass behind her shoulders, eyes narrowing. "It does not! Not, not, not! It's ugly, it's awful, and I hate you." The childish outburst is followed by a grabbing of the pants Zureile has placed down, regardless of their decent folding, just to fold them again, slamming--well, placing them down hard--upon the table.

Zureile, for once in her life, doesn't match shout for shout. In fact, her tone is calm, almost soothing. "It's not ugly, Hanneke. It suits you very well." She gives the shirt in her hands a disgusted sigh. How /was/ one supposed to fold this? Oh well, she'll just make a couple of turns in the cloth, and consider it done. There, that didn't look too bad. Reaching for another item from the basket, which mercifully is a square bit of cloth (can't mess that one up!), she continues. "And you don't have to hate me, Hanneke. You agreed to it, you know." Hmm... now where has she heard this before?

"Ugly," repeats Hanneke, not in the least bit mollified. "I'm not supposed to have short, nasty hair." 'Short' is an overstatement: her hair grows quickly, and unringleted, it falls past her shoulders. She bypasses the next shirt of Zureile's--is that a compliment?--carefully folding a pale pink sundress, which her eyes take in with a long sigh of delight, before she adds. "You tricked me. You said I was going bald! I'm not! See?" Another toss of her hair. Yes. See, indeed.

Zureile gives a small sigh, and places the folded (napkin? Washrag?) on top of the growing pile of clothes. and reaches for a pair of work-stained pants. Why did Hanneke get all the good ones to fold? "Hanneke, I'll admit it. I did... well, pull your leg a little bit that night. But I did it mostly because I was feeling so low about my own hair." She slips off her wig with one hand, exposing the dark fuzz that covered her scalp. "Your hair is not short. /This/ is short." She eyes the wig, then tosses it to the side. Sometimes it was more bother than it was worth. "And I didn't really say you were going bald...I just kind of helped along your suspicions."

Hanneke's scowl, notably, doesn't fade, although her expression gains a moue of misery, as if she feels guilty over her reaction. A pair of overly frilled, black panties are lifted from the basket, given a disgusted glance, a shudder, and a rapid fold before she sets them down again. "Yes," she agrees, to Zureile's admission, although however she reached the conclusion, it doesn't appear to have been by her own reasoning. "It's horrible! I'm sorry." Tact is a gift that both lack, apparently. "I suppose."

Zureile scowls slightly at Hanneke's comment, hunching her shoulders slightly. She didn't have to be /so/ agreeable, did she? Still, after tricking her about over the hair incident, Zureile supposes she did deserves some nettling, and lets the comment slide. Besides, the next item she pulls out of the basket takes most of her attention. "What /is/ this," she giggles, turning the lace-filled garment to and fro, trying to get a better look. Did people actually wear something like this? How did one even get it on? Still laughing, she eyes Hanneke out of the corner of her eye, and tosses the garment in her direction. "Here Hanneke, catch."

Hanneke, notably, does not catch. "Ew!" she announce, decidedly, hands dropping to her sides. "What is it?" Rather than touch it, she stands, shaking it away from her person, letting it sit under the table where it falls. She rubs her hands upon her clothes, as if cleaning them, uncontaminating them. "That's nasty!"

Zureile can't help but laugh at Hanneke. Really, she can't. In fact, it takes a couple of moments before she's able to get enough breath to even say anything, she's that amused. "Hanneke, it's not going to burn you! Granted, it's not the prettiest.... uh, article of clothing I've ever seen, but really!" She dissolves into laughter once again, then pulls out another item, this time a rather plain, sedate-looking shirt.

Hanneke's expression currently ranges from 'horrified' to 'tortured', and ends up falling just between the two, at about 'hopelessly disgusted'. She sits back down, grasping for a sock, promptly rooting about for it's pair. "It's just not there!" she notes, disgusted about this, too, adding, "It will! It's horribly, ugly, and I'm not picking it up." So there.

Zureile rolls her eyes, and dutifully traipses over to grab the fallen item. Granted, she doesn't hold it with more than one hand, and she uses her fingertips to fold it. It seems she's not too anxious to touch the "horribly ugly" item either. Finally finishing, she tosses it onto the pile with a flourish. Of course, the flourish proves to be her undoing... or rather the folding's undoing. With a flurry of lace and straps, the careful folding job comes undone. And Zureile's not about to redo it. No sir, not when the chore was someone else's in the first place. So, with a grin and a wink, Zureile edges toward the door. "I've got to get to my next chore, Hanneke. Enjoy!" And with that she gives a quick wave, and turns around to dash out the cavern door.

Hanneke gives the lacy thing a horrified glance, then stares blankly after Zureile. "Wait! Come back! Zureeeeeillle!"