Chaneil stared morosely at the seemingly-endless heap of rags that needed to be sorted. He'd thought that becoming a Candidate would help him avoid this boring sort of task. They were supposed to learn about dragons after all, and other things that people thought were important but that he thought were just marginally less dull than a lifetime of drudgery. What next, counting the grains of rice in a sack? Though perhaps he shouldn't think such ideas, or they might just come true.
"We're going to be at this all day," he complained. This one was suitable for bandages, this one only for cleaning, that one was large enough to be repurposed... "Maybe even more than just today. We're going to be at this all sevenday. Or until winter."
He picked up another rag, scrutinizing it. How was it that he managed to get the worst possible chores? He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes to try to see if the mark on the fabric was a stain, a burn mark, or simply some thread of a slightly different hue. Burn mark. Not suitable for reuse, then.