Stone platforms hewn from the volcanic rock line the perimeter of the room, each one covered with a cot's mattress for young bones, and a few coverlets according to choice. The bedstuffs appear to be sinking into the stone, the platforms going gradually hollow from generations of anxious bodies resting on them. The walls of the chamber are shot through with obsidian streaks from long-ago volcanic activity that writhe over the surfaces like striations on an egg. Natural darkness is lifted from the cavern with glowbaskets everywhere that provide a cheerful light to welcome weary bodies to bed.

You see a large basket, Basket of Sand, Snuggly-soft Baby Blanket, Shahna's Tent of Terror, Kirah's Cozy Corner with Kirah occupying it, Kayrelen's Kot, Scylla's Cot, Ylavei's Lime and Hot-Pink Cot in the Corner, and Alianne's Cot with Alianne occupying it here.

Morning -- as always -- finds Azalan hunched over on the edge of his cot, a bundle of mending in his lap. He pushes one curl out of his face to better his view of the shift he is currently mending. Careful stitches begin. He works silently. This is what he calls invigorating morning activity.

Somehow, Cymri has managed not to wake up, sleeping through general din of the barracks as others rose, some hustling off to early chores. So it is that the woman now sleeps, head resting on one arm. Apparently, no one has bothered to wake her, but then...she does look rather peaceful.

Kirah strides purposefully back into the barraks, the aroma of runner wafting in behind her. Quietly she sits down on her cot in the corner and frowns at those not yet awake. She swears, some people sleep half the day away, but then that's probably the same crew that tries to keep her up all night. She waves to those awake and looks disgustedly at the heap of white material that's gonna become a robe one of these days, and hopefully soon.

Azalan takes another meditative stitch, pulling the cream-colored fabric taut for a moment. He lets it go slack, then, and he lifts his eyes almost cautiously to observe the recently-entered young woman. No name comes as he wracks his memory, but he finally manages, "You need help with that?" A pause. "Your robe, I mean?"

Kirah holds up the material at arms length, trying to make sense of the jumbled ball. It's actually been properly cut, but there's no way she'll get it sewn together properly. Her mother would be ashamed, but she doesn't care. Helplessly she picks up needle and thread, looking up at the question. "I need all the help I can get." she smiles, "That would be marvelous, if you've got the time that is."

Cymri rolls from one side to the other, giving a soft moaning hum as some internal rhythm tells her to wake at last. Her eyes blink open, going wide briefly as they adjust to the light. Then, lightly curled position is exchanged for a slow, full stretch, and Cymri refocuses. Dark eyes travel slowly from one side of the room, wandering over sitting candidates, to the other, finally sharpening into alertness. "Everyone else is up," comes the soft mutter, as she sits up, quickly, frowning just slightly.

"I'll make it for you," Azalan announces rather bravely -- he's a mender, not a tailor! -- as he eyes the fabric. "I'll make it for you, if you'll do my evening chores today and tomorrow." He pauses, battling the flush that threatens to invade his cheeks; he's not a good bargainer. "It's a fair deal, I think?" He pauses, gaze shifting to a mutter. "Hours ago," he comments absently.

Kirah smiles nodding to Cymri, "I've been out to the stables and back." she announces, "But its alright I think, no one's been looking for us yet." she smiles reassuringly as she turns back to Azalan, "Well, that depends entirely on what detail your on." Not really, but she's gotta make a strong case here. Afterall, if she has to sew her own robe, she'll probably end up on the sands au natural.

"Did I ... " Cymri's question trails off as she overhears the words of one male candidate, and she turns from the girl nearest towards Azalan, interest piqued now that she's gathered her senses back. She grips the edges of the cot and swings her legs over one side, head tilting just slightly as she listens in, not bothering to hide her interest. A trade... Her interest yields to faint embarrassment at Kirah's words, though.

"Just kitchen duty this sevenday," Azalan shrugs. "It's not too difficult, since I was raised in one, but it's /tedious/. I much prefer sewing. It really is just..." He searches for the proper description term. "...just /great/." He pauses to give another slow stitch to the shift in his lap. "So, if you do my chores for two days, I'll be able to have your robe finished by then."

Cymri lifts one brow, pink fading again from her cheeks. He's just given away his willingness? But then, honesty does help, and, it still /is/ a nice deal for him, to her thinking. A faint smile of approval is cast towards Azalan before she looks back to Kirah, expression now smoothed into neutral curiosity.

Kirah frowns, weighing the options, but eventually reason wins out. She'd really rather do a little clean-up work in the kitchen than stand on the sands with no robe. She smiles, "Its a deal then." she picks up the ball of fabric, still trying to make right of it. "It's already properly cut if that helps at all."

"That's fine, sure," Azalan brightens, reaching out his hands to take the fabric. "Day after tomorrow, come try it on, and if doesn't fit we'll adjust it." His tone tends toward professional, now. The initial embarrassment of approaching the girl has subsided.

Cymri smiles, then stands swiftly, bouncing just the slightest bit to get the feeling into her limbs. "Kitchen duties traded? That is a break." She frowns, though her eyes dance ever so slightly, "I'm stuck with cleaning the caverns further, which is not my preference." She shrugs, "But then, there are worse chores.." She lets the sentence dangle, leaving others to imagine their own worst visions. But her nose does wrinkle, briefly -- as though perhaps she had in mind certain recent punishments some of her fellow candidates were dealt.

Azalan shrugs slightly, his delicate hands busy smoothing the fabric in his lap. "I don't like any of the chores much, other than mending, which I did for fun anyway, /before/ I was a candidate." He pauses, nose wrinkling, mirroring Cymri's. "I haven't figured out yet why they make us do all this."

Kirah willing places the mess of material into Azalan's outstretched hands. It's only extra kitchen work, on top of cleaning the stables, and everything else in the rotation. She sighs nodding to Cym, "So it would appear." She too cringes, probably with the same thought the other girl just had. She nods to Azalan, "I could keep myself busy with stablework before all this, that was a full day already."

Cymri smiles, murmuring, "Then that was an excellent trade, Azalan." One hand passes through the air in dismissal of the latter comment, "No? It's to keep us busy, Azalan. That way, we cause less trouble as we wait for --" She grins, adds extra emphasis to her next words: "The Day." A shrug follows, "And then, it allows those who weren't raised in a Weyr to see what life is like. And scrubbing floors and such helps strengthen candidates, I think...?" Towards the end, her tone becomes more uncertain, just shy of grasping for explanations. Finally, she admits, "Truth be told, I almost think the only reason they Search half of us is to get some of the odd jobs around the Weyr completed." Her eyes are light, amused, and it's rather difficult to judge how much is fun, and how much is serious.

"Thanks," Azalan bobs his head at Cymri before breaking into a smile at her reasoning. "You know, I think you're right," he agrees, lips upturned into a smile. "They think, 'Oh, the caverns are /so/ dirty!'" He affects a squeaky falsetto and flutters his hands about his face. "'We /must/ get some more candidates to clean this up! I just /can't/ stand it!'" He halts his rough imitation, falling back into a casual smile; he's comfortable, now.

Kirah smiles broadly cuckling at her fellow candidates. "You know, there has to be some truth to that." She pauses, considering a plan to investigate the truth of the theory, but then shakes her head. "Unfortunately I don't think that there is a reliable way to prove it." She's taking the suggestions way to seriously now. "We could always mutiny." She suggests half-heartedly, "Or go on a strike of sorts, 'Candidates for fair workdays.'" She grins, not that she's actually planning on trying something of the sort...

Cymri laughs softly at Azalan's aquired voice, as much as at gestures, and glances back at her cot, almost as if wondering now just what made her stand moments earlier. "If I've missed the earlier chores, I suppose... maybe I should go see if anyone else needs help." She doesn't look entirely convinced, although she nods. "Yes, that might make up for it." At Kirah's mock suggestion, though, Cymri smiles again, "Now that's an interesting idea. Except, I really don't think our day is as bad as some of the others make it out to be." A dark look passes very briefly through her eyes, then disappears again at mention of nameless 'others'.

Kirah can't help but chortle at that last comment. "In truth, its not bad at all." At least she doesn't think so. "A definite improvement over my days as a messenger. I mean, at least meals are regular and a residence is provided." To her that's a /big/ bonus. "So what if we have to earn the /honor/, people really should be more grateful for what they've got." She'll step down from the soapbox now.

Cymri smiles, looking at Kirah with definite approval. "This is true. What really ..." she pauses, then continues, " -- frustrates me, I suppose, is the people who won't even /do/ their chores. The complaining I could tolerate, but," and her eyes flash, "I cannot /stand/ the ones who just sit there, while we do all the work." She falls into silence at that, stepping down from her own soapbox with a slightly flushed look: emotion balanced with embarassment at expressing said emotion.

Kirah gets pulled into the emotion, her tone showing her aggrivation, "You're right about that. There is nothing worse than having to do someone else's work, lest the whole crew get blamed for the laziness of one." She's always been used to a hard days' work, so that in and of itself is nothing new, but the added dynamic of teamwork is a bit of a change. "Its just frustrating."

Cymri feels the same, or she wouldn't have said so to start with. But, vehemence faded slightly, she now brushes a strand of hair back -- a habitual, calming move -- and lets a smile play at her lips, "Speaking of...you wouldn't care to help me with the caverns, would you? And then, I could join your crew for kitchenwork." She shrugs, slightly, "There are a lot of other candidates to help, yes, but ... switching might be more interesting, and they certainly couldn't accuse us of not doing our duties -- half the time for each, but twice the workforce, would balance out, I think."