O.O; *gasp!*
Nov. 23rd, 2007 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2Posting before noon! Holy shit! O.O I've been up since 0400, since I had to work the early shift; I be somewhat... punchy? O.o
More Massacre! This chunk is a bit longer. ^___^ Enjoy! I'm going to crawl over to the bed and... um... be unconscious for a while. ^.^
After breakfast, Trowa was approached by Mirabelle, another member of the Clan Council and a good friend of Cathy’s, with a request. The males of the Clan took responsibility for supplying the firewood for the dens; this month it was the Barton den’s turn, but Philippe and Arnold, Trowa’s older cousins, had been called in on short notice to work the Clan business. Would Trowa, Mirabelle asked prettily, be available to fill in for a bit? Not to fill the shed, of course, but just to increase the reserve a bit?
Wufei admitted to a grudging admiration for the manipulative capabilities of these females; they were masters (or should that be mistresses?) of the Clan males.
Trowa immediately agreed to help, and dragged Wufei with him.
“You don’t have to cut,” he tossed over his shoulder as Wufei grumbled about putting guests to work. “I’ll do that, if you’ll stack.”
“And how is that not work?” demanded Wufei.
Trowa smacked his shoulder. “I do know that you carry your wand with you now.”
Wufei rolled his eyes with a huff. Yes, he supposed he could manage a spell to stack some cord wood. Rotten cat. “You’ve been snooping in my other space? Or are you psychic now?”
“You put it there right in front of me yesterday morning, idiot.”
“Oh. Well, fine. You cut and I’ll stack.” Trowa still had the harder job; Wufei would never forget the aching shoulders and blistered hands from chopping wood when he was a teenager at home. No, not “at home”; at his Clan. It was a singularly degrading experience, as he recalled, and he was in no hurry to repeat it.
A cut stack of full trees awaited them in the woodlot. Trowa pointed out the stacked reserve and explained how the Puma Clan arranged the cords, before stepping into the tool shed. Wufei picked a spot in the shade and settled down to wait; it would be a while before Trowa had even a single tree bucked into split-able pieces.
Minutes passed; Trowa came out of the tool shed, walked around the trees, and shifted one to the cutting rack. Wufei listened with half an ear; dozing lightly with his eyes closed. It was a pleasantly warm day; he was comfortable.
There was a cough, and another. Before he could manage to wonder if Trowa was coming down with something, an ear-splitting roar erupted. An instant later, Wufei found himself clinging upside-down to the roof of the shed, his ears ringing, heart pounding, adrenaline surging and every hair on his body standing straight up.
The roar had settled to a bitter whine.
“What the fuck is *that*?!” he yelled over the noise. Holy fucking ancestors; were they under attack?!
The noise lessened slightly.
“Wufei, what the hell are you doing up there?”
Wufei looked down at Trowa. He had on goggles, gun mufflers and gloves and carried some kind of whining, growling machine in his hand. Was that the source of the noise? And then he realized that he was cringing like a terrified gecko, trying to blend into the timbers of the wood shed. He let go and dropped to the ground, face flaming in embarrassment. Trowa looked… perplexed.
“What’s the matter with you, Wufei?” Trowa asked, pulling the gun mufflers off to hang around his neck.
“Nothing!” he snapped back. “What the hell is *that*?” he snarled, pointing at the machine.
Trowa looked down, as if to confirm what Wufei was indicating. “It’s a chain saw,” he said simply.
Wufei stared at him. “A… what?”
“A chain saw. You know, for cutting wood.” It grumbled to a halt as he shut it off and held it out to Wufei.
The Were-Dragon took it gingerly, somewhat surprised at the weight of the thing. “It has an engine…?” He peered at the power head dubiously. He could smell the petroleum, like a car engine. A motorized saw… He touched the small metal teeth that stuck out along a chain wrapping the metal plate. “These do the cutting?”
“Yeah.” Trowa looked at his friend oddly. “You didn’t think I was going to use a hand saw or an axe, did you?”
“Actually,” said Wufei distractedly, “I did. Your Clan uses these things to cut wood? All the time?”
“Um… Yes. We’d be chopping all day, every day if we didn’t. Wufei, haven’t you ever seen a chainsaw before?”
“No… I never knew such things existed…” He looked up at the Were-Puma with wonder in his eyes. “I spent hours chopping wood… Hours. Days. How long have these things been around?”
Trowa blinked at him. He could split logs with an axe, and he’d learned to use both one and two-man crosscut saws to fell and buck trees as a teenager, but that was for the learning experience. No one expected to maintain the woodpile by hand anymore.
“I think chainsaws were invented around 1920 or 1930; something like that. We’ve always had chainsaws; that I remember.”
Wufei poked and prodded and stroked at the machine, little “oohs” and “aahs” slipping out without notice. Crap, thought Trowa; did Wufei’s Clan still use hand tools for everything? What an enormous waste of productive time, if they did.
“Would you like to try it?” he offered. He’d wanted to distract Wufei this weekend… “I can show you how it works.”
Wufei blinked and looked at him. “What? Oh, no; that’s not… necessary.” His eyes drifted back to the powerful machine, hefting it experimentally. “Damn… All those days… Chopping until I thought my damn arms would fall off… And these things have existed for… how long? Seventy, eighty years?” His gaze sharpened. “Has Heero ever done this? Used one of these?”
“I don’t know… I don’t know if his Clan uses firewood the way we do.”
“Is it hard? Or dangerous?”
“It’s not hard, once you learn how, but it’s not a toy. It can hurt you if you aren’t careful and paying attention.” Best to start Wufei on something smaller than the 36-inch saw; that was definitely for experienced users only. He led the way into the tool shed and relieved Wufei of the large Stihl 880. He found a 21-inch model that the younger kits learned on. “Here we go. How about if I show you how it works and then I can buck the logs to length and you can split them? It’ll give you a chance to get used to the feel of it.”
Wufei licked his lips, hefting the smaller saw. “Yeah… That sounds fine…” His eyes seemed awfully bright; Trowa decided he would have to keep an eye on the pissy Dragon, lest he get carried away.
More Massacre! This chunk is a bit longer. ^___^ Enjoy! I'm going to crawl over to the bed and... um... be unconscious for a while. ^.^
After breakfast, Trowa was approached by Mirabelle, another member of the Clan Council and a good friend of Cathy’s, with a request. The males of the Clan took responsibility for supplying the firewood for the dens; this month it was the Barton den’s turn, but Philippe and Arnold, Trowa’s older cousins, had been called in on short notice to work the Clan business. Would Trowa, Mirabelle asked prettily, be available to fill in for a bit? Not to fill the shed, of course, but just to increase the reserve a bit?
Wufei admitted to a grudging admiration for the manipulative capabilities of these females; they were masters (or should that be mistresses?) of the Clan males.
Trowa immediately agreed to help, and dragged Wufei with him.
“You don’t have to cut,” he tossed over his shoulder as Wufei grumbled about putting guests to work. “I’ll do that, if you’ll stack.”
“And how is that not work?” demanded Wufei.
Trowa smacked his shoulder. “I do know that you carry your wand with you now.”
Wufei rolled his eyes with a huff. Yes, he supposed he could manage a spell to stack some cord wood. Rotten cat. “You’ve been snooping in my other space? Or are you psychic now?”
“You put it there right in front of me yesterday morning, idiot.”
“Oh. Well, fine. You cut and I’ll stack.” Trowa still had the harder job; Wufei would never forget the aching shoulders and blistered hands from chopping wood when he was a teenager at home. No, not “at home”; at his Clan. It was a singularly degrading experience, as he recalled, and he was in no hurry to repeat it.
A cut stack of full trees awaited them in the woodlot. Trowa pointed out the stacked reserve and explained how the Puma Clan arranged the cords, before stepping into the tool shed. Wufei picked a spot in the shade and settled down to wait; it would be a while before Trowa had even a single tree bucked into split-able pieces.
Minutes passed; Trowa came out of the tool shed, walked around the trees, and shifted one to the cutting rack. Wufei listened with half an ear; dozing lightly with his eyes closed. It was a pleasantly warm day; he was comfortable.
There was a cough, and another. Before he could manage to wonder if Trowa was coming down with something, an ear-splitting roar erupted. An instant later, Wufei found himself clinging upside-down to the roof of the shed, his ears ringing, heart pounding, adrenaline surging and every hair on his body standing straight up.
The roar had settled to a bitter whine.
“What the fuck is *that*?!” he yelled over the noise. Holy fucking ancestors; were they under attack?!
The noise lessened slightly.
“Wufei, what the hell are you doing up there?”
Wufei looked down at Trowa. He had on goggles, gun mufflers and gloves and carried some kind of whining, growling machine in his hand. Was that the source of the noise? And then he realized that he was cringing like a terrified gecko, trying to blend into the timbers of the wood shed. He let go and dropped to the ground, face flaming in embarrassment. Trowa looked… perplexed.
“What’s the matter with you, Wufei?” Trowa asked, pulling the gun mufflers off to hang around his neck.
“Nothing!” he snapped back. “What the hell is *that*?” he snarled, pointing at the machine.
Trowa looked down, as if to confirm what Wufei was indicating. “It’s a chain saw,” he said simply.
Wufei stared at him. “A… what?”
“A chain saw. You know, for cutting wood.” It grumbled to a halt as he shut it off and held it out to Wufei.
The Were-Dragon took it gingerly, somewhat surprised at the weight of the thing. “It has an engine…?” He peered at the power head dubiously. He could smell the petroleum, like a car engine. A motorized saw… He touched the small metal teeth that stuck out along a chain wrapping the metal plate. “These do the cutting?”
“Yeah.” Trowa looked at his friend oddly. “You didn’t think I was going to use a hand saw or an axe, did you?”
“Actually,” said Wufei distractedly, “I did. Your Clan uses these things to cut wood? All the time?”
“Um… Yes. We’d be chopping all day, every day if we didn’t. Wufei, haven’t you ever seen a chainsaw before?”
“No… I never knew such things existed…” He looked up at the Were-Puma with wonder in his eyes. “I spent hours chopping wood… Hours. Days. How long have these things been around?”
Trowa blinked at him. He could split logs with an axe, and he’d learned to use both one and two-man crosscut saws to fell and buck trees as a teenager, but that was for the learning experience. No one expected to maintain the woodpile by hand anymore.
“I think chainsaws were invented around 1920 or 1930; something like that. We’ve always had chainsaws; that I remember.”
Wufei poked and prodded and stroked at the machine, little “oohs” and “aahs” slipping out without notice. Crap, thought Trowa; did Wufei’s Clan still use hand tools for everything? What an enormous waste of productive time, if they did.
“Would you like to try it?” he offered. He’d wanted to distract Wufei this weekend… “I can show you how it works.”
Wufei blinked and looked at him. “What? Oh, no; that’s not… necessary.” His eyes drifted back to the powerful machine, hefting it experimentally. “Damn… All those days… Chopping until I thought my damn arms would fall off… And these things have existed for… how long? Seventy, eighty years?” His gaze sharpened. “Has Heero ever done this? Used one of these?”
“I don’t know… I don’t know if his Clan uses firewood the way we do.”
“Is it hard? Or dangerous?”
“It’s not hard, once you learn how, but it’s not a toy. It can hurt you if you aren’t careful and paying attention.” Best to start Wufei on something smaller than the 36-inch saw; that was definitely for experienced users only. He led the way into the tool shed and relieved Wufei of the large Stihl 880. He found a 21-inch model that the younger kits learned on. “Here we go. How about if I show you how it works and then I can buck the logs to length and you can split them? It’ll give you a chance to get used to the feel of it.”
Wufei licked his lips, hefting the smaller saw. “Yeah… That sounds fine…” His eyes seemed awfully bright; Trowa decided he would have to keep an eye on the pissy Dragon, lest he get carried away.
