It's the job that's never started
Nodding his agreement with Thorn's analysis of the woman and the scolding to come, Zavien jumps into action. Sol hops away to join his friend, showing Goose a valuable squeaky toy he'd managed to find buried under the bed at home. The frog is missing an eye and the fabric looks more brown than green, but he's beaming nonetheless, wings fluttering as he hops around the treasure.
Zavien helps guide the workers, rolling a wheelbarrow through the foundation as he monitors for any trouble, but spirits are high. Despite days of work and tired muscles, they work efficiently for a group of strangers, piling mortar and laying bricks in a smooth rhythm that passes the morning without incident. Each delivery of bricks is followed by a sweeping assessment, offering correction when necessary and redistributing work when one sections proves faster than another. He even jumps in when the work slows, gloved hands and straining muscles satisfying the part of him that strives to do. His chest swells with pride when he helps set the sixth row of bricks piled into an outline, sure they couldn't be doing any better to start the Tower.
Until Erika arrives.
Ripping through the construction site like a storm, the stout woman shoos workers from their stations with mutters of thin figures and slacking work. "This is what happens when you don't eat..." Her head shakes, gray curls bobbing around her head when she catches sight of Zavien, beady eyes narrowing. "What are you grinning for? It's obvious you're overworking these starving, weak people. Have you no shame?" She flicks her hand, summoning the donkey that draws her overflowing cart behind it.
"Missed you too, Erika."
The wheels strain against the various gourmet sandwiches and pitchers of sweet iced tea to compliment the warming weather. Jumping onto the back, she doesn't argue when Zavien joins her to pass out the food, instead fixating on each member who walks up. Her finger pokes out at Iskra, furrowing her brows. "You've got some muscle on you, but I think you're wearing more mortar than the bricks. Eating more will help you see better." Then she drops a massive sandwich in his hands, nodding her head like that's the end of it.
Turning to Hawthorn, she gasps and points her finger accusingly. "And you! I have no idea how you're lifting those bricks when you're skinnier than a twig!" She gives him two sandwiches, tongue tsking her annoyance. "If you'd come to visit me like I told you to, you'd already be at ten layers."
Even when the crew finishes eating, Erika sits atop her cart, fussing and scrutinizing their every move as she lobbies threats of massive meals. Worse than any slavedriver, the woman gives the domineering expression of a disappointed mother, one who knows they could and should do better.
It pushes Zavien as much as the man next to him, his head hunkering down to push through the building exhaustion to find a new gear.
Erika brought lunch! She's unimpressed with the skinny workers progress and thinks there should be at least ten layers of bricks at this point. Work harder!
Zavien helps guide the workers, rolling a wheelbarrow through the foundation as he monitors for any trouble, but spirits are high. Despite days of work and tired muscles, they work efficiently for a group of strangers, piling mortar and laying bricks in a smooth rhythm that passes the morning without incident. Each delivery of bricks is followed by a sweeping assessment, offering correction when necessary and redistributing work when one sections proves faster than another. He even jumps in when the work slows, gloved hands and straining muscles satisfying the part of him that strives to do. His chest swells with pride when he helps set the sixth row of bricks piled into an outline, sure they couldn't be doing any better to start the Tower.
Until Erika arrives.
Ripping through the construction site like a storm, the stout woman shoos workers from their stations with mutters of thin figures and slacking work. "This is what happens when you don't eat..." Her head shakes, gray curls bobbing around her head when she catches sight of Zavien, beady eyes narrowing. "What are you grinning for? It's obvious you're overworking these starving, weak people. Have you no shame?" She flicks her hand, summoning the donkey that draws her overflowing cart behind it.
"Missed you too, Erika."
The wheels strain against the various gourmet sandwiches and pitchers of sweet iced tea to compliment the warming weather. Jumping onto the back, she doesn't argue when Zavien joins her to pass out the food, instead fixating on each member who walks up. Her finger pokes out at Iskra, furrowing her brows. "You've got some muscle on you, but I think you're wearing more mortar than the bricks. Eating more will help you see better." Then she drops a massive sandwich in his hands, nodding her head like that's the end of it.
Turning to Hawthorn, she gasps and points her finger accusingly. "And you! I have no idea how you're lifting those bricks when you're skinnier than a twig!" She gives him two sandwiches, tongue tsking her annoyance. "If you'd come to visit me like I told you to, you'd already be at ten layers."
Even when the crew finishes eating, Erika sits atop her cart, fussing and scrutinizing their every move as she lobbies threats of massive meals. Worse than any slavedriver, the woman gives the domineering expression of a disappointed mother, one who knows they could and should do better.
It pushes Zavien as much as the man next to him, his head hunkering down to push through the building exhaustion to find a new gear.
Erika brought lunch! She's unimpressed with the skinny workers progress and thinks there should be at least ten layers of bricks at this point. Work harder!
as takes longest to finish.
Zavien
