Closed [Beds and Boxes] The Art of Nails (Tim)

[Jed Radacke]

30th of Summer 514AV

The woodshop was heavy with the smell of varnish the next morning when Jed walked in. The sun was barely rising, although Jed didn't see it through his North-facing window. However it still gave him the dim grey lighting of the morning. The beautiful hue it gave the room made Jed almost ashamed to light a candle, breaking the blue with the orange of the fire. Instead he opened the shutters further, inhaling the dense woodshop air before turning around. He saw the stand where his prepared wood lay, stains hopefully dry and ready to be put together.

Jed rubbed his eyes, taking a minute to simply stand in his workshop and wake up. He was torn between retreating back into his office and sleeping the day away, or imbedding himself in work and hoping that no one bothered him. Oh Shyke ... Tim. Jed reminded himself of his newest nuisance. Yesterday had gone well enough that Jed actually wanted the boy to complete the project with him. If the child got to feel the responsibility and pride of completing a project, he'd be more inclined to work harder. At least that was what Jed thought. The boy would work hard either way, he'd would make sure of it. Ah, might as well get everything ready.

Jed didn't open the shop until about ten in the morning, so the slaves had gotten used to late nights of clean up and then they wouldn't be forced to wake up as early as Jed. However the Radacke liked early morning rises. Quick to get dressed and to work, it was the time of day when he was most clear minded. He strode over to where the shelf pieces rested on their rack, running a finger ever so lightly across the center of one of the planks. Very dry.

Jed nodded to himself, turning to his wall of tools. His brain ran through the motions of what he wanted to do to put the shelf together. The counter below his wall of tools was home to a series of drawers containing different types of nails. Although Jed never wanted to let a nail show in a finishing product, he didn't actually use disappearing nails the most, so he had to take a second before pulling open a drawer filled with long thin nails. Oval-wire nails. Jed plucked a few nails from the drawer. Although they weren't sharp, he figured there had to be a better way to pick nails out of a drawer. Maybe he would make Matilla or Tim organize pre-prepared bundles of nails so he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of picking them up ... or maybe he would get his hands on a magnet, but those were expensive ...

As he plucked nails from the drawer, it occurred to Jed that he didn't have to. "Timothy!" Jed roared, placing the nails in his hand on the counter above the drawer before turning towards the wood shop door. "Get in here!" Jed yelled again as he opened the door for the boy, hoping he was already awake. "I need your tiny fingers. I don't need to prick my own." Jed huffed to himself as he let the door hang open and turned back into the shop. It would do the boy good to listen to Jed anyway. Tim could do with learning what hammer when to what nails, and what nails were used for what. Jed was supposed to be teaching the boy his trade after all.

PC/NPC Talking -- Common -- Thoughts

[Timothy Mered]

30th of Summer 514AV

He had just swallowed down the last of his breakfast, a bowl of watered-down, re-heated cabbage soup and two slices of stale bread, when Jed roared at him again. Roaring was never good. It meant that he was more impatient than usual and probably irrate too and so it was best to hurry up and do as he was asked. But he made no effort today. A dull throb had settled into his forehead overnight and his arms felt like wet rags hanging uselessly by his side. All he wanted was to rest his head on some surface and sink through the floor, if only to disappear to some blessed place where all was quiet.

He had battled the blankets last night, twisting and stirring endlessly in a vain attempt to keep himself warm one moment and casting his blankets aside the next. Eventually he'd fallen asleep, only to wake up in a clammy bed with his clammy white cotton shirt glued to his clammy back. If Matilla hadn't urged him to eat his breakfast, he would've shoved it away and remained sitting, waiting for the ilness that had fallen over him to end. Now that he'd eaten the last crumb he thought he'd done about enough for that day but Jed, as always, disagreed.

"You'd better go," Matilla whispered.

Slowly, visibly fighting the urge to head back to bed, he raised himself, handed Matilla his empty plate and bowl, and slouched towards the workshop. Barefooted, still dressed in the way oversized white cotton shirt and baggy woolen pants he'd been alloted as pyjamas, he shuffled into the workshop, dedicating what little attention he could muster to not stepping on a stray nail or a loose splinter.

Jed was in some very foul mood. It didn't take a seer to tell that the tall, strong Radacke was having a bad day before it had even started. Normally, that meant Tim would do exactly as he was asked, keep his jib shut and pay extra attention to every odd little job that Jed threw at him. Today however, he felt that slamming his head against the wall for a day would've left him more attentive and capable of logical thought than he could muster right now. He wondered if it was something in the food he'd been given...

Though the ship he'd been on hadn't exactly provided hearty meals, he'd been fed enough to appear healthy when he'd been sold to Marshal Sitai. Under Jed's rule however, he'd already lost the thin layer of fat that had previously obscured his ribs, and that was with Matilla feeding him (when Jed wasn't looking, of course) some of her plate which had always more on it than his or Sander's.

Rubbing his eyes he dragged himself to where Jed was standing and silently begun his task. He didn't expect Jed to care about his messy hair, ghostly look, or bony fingers. A small nod indicated that he understood what was required of him. Making no great haste he picked up a stool from the far end of the workshop, dragged it over and sat down at the workbench. In a way he was happy with the job provided. It was a simple one and his hands were small and nimble enough to do the work without pricking himself. Soon enough, the temptation grew too strong and he continued to pick out the nails with one hand, resting his head on the other.

[Matthew]

Timothy

Experience Points:

• +1 Organization

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