Logs:Catch-Up Cleaning
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| RL Date: 25 July, 2014 |
| Who: Ghena, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ghena and Telavi catch up. Tela is tired. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 5, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Ends sooner than expected after getting hit with the RL sleepy stick. |
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| The weather outside isn't so much frightful as a gloomy, moody evening that can't even decide to rain. It's late, which may explain why a certain assistant weyrlingmaster is finally getting to clean up; Telavi's moved on to her hair, undoing each braid in turn to wash it, comb it, and braid it back up. Now and again, when she moves, a big purple-and-yellow bruise shows itself at the base of one shoulderblade and circling down around her ribs; it's far less attractive than the fading design that curves low around her neck, the dots and curlicues perhaps once redwort-red. It's not the necklet that makes her move carefully. Of course such gloomy weather is cause for a nice hot soak in the baths, that or a dragon's insistence as is Ghena's case. Stripping unceremoniously before plopping into the water and grabbing the nearest bag of soapsand. "Whoa, What the heck happened to you Telavi, Weyrling try to eat you or something?" the bluerider comments eyeing those bruises, yes eyeng them. Ordinarily Tela might give the other girl wide eyes, but when she turns to Ghena, her blue-green gaze is tired. There are actual sleep-smudges about her eyes, or rather smudges from sleeplessness; if she'd powdered the darkness over, earlier, it's all washed off now. "Thwacked into me," she says mournfully. "Of course they would be chasing each other and... does the line of my belt still show? I've got to get a softer one if this happens again." The line where its edges had been forced against her skin. A quick study and a frown. "No it hasn't, but check with G'laer, he's got some kick ass ointment, that will have you feeling right as rain. Gifted me some for my turnday. Geesh, after dealing with Lythronath and a rather obnoxious sibling rivalry I would think you'd have it down to an artform by now." She must mean wrangling Weyrlings. Distant clinks and tings of metal on metal ring through the evening air. « Greetings M'lady Solith > (To Solith from Knioth) "He's all sorts of clever, that G'laer," Telavi says in a way that would ordinarily, again, be brightly cheerful; someone's been burning her candles from both ends, and candles are so much more expensive than glows. "I don't want to bother him; I'm using some of K'zin's from 'back' when." Tela, who evidently isn't so out of it that she can't pun, slides deeper into the water again, covering up most of that bruise and getting back to combing. "But you, how are you? And Knioth?" Ghena scrunches her nose as though their is a bad smell in the air at mention of her lifemate. "You know Knioth, always wanting to chase something glowing. Or waste time flirting, or asking me to do favors for certain green's riders." She submerges a moment before resurfacing after a few seconds. slicking her still close cropped hair back. "Which by the way the G'laer suggestion was not an instance of." Solith's relaxed, awake, more of both than her rider; the nighttime breeze that wends his way is quietly glad. « What is it, Knioth? » (To Knioth from Solith) "Ooh. Favors like what?" Telavi wonders, waving off the potential G'laer-implication. "Even if you didn't actually do them. Maybe even especially if you didn't actually do them." Banners fly, rich blues snapping in the wind and sun. « Only conveying my greetings sweet lady, though if thou wishes companionship on this dreary eve, I should be happy to join thee. » (To Solith from Knioth) "Holding doors open, buying ridiculously expensive gifts - he tried getting me to write poetry once." A shiver that has nothing to do with the bath water shakes the rider a moment. "You are lucky you missed the whole month where he insisted I use proper grammar and antiquated speech." "Did you buy those expensive gifts? I realize the poetry was doomed to fail," and Telavi's barely-there but there dimples suggest Ghena's a pleasant distraction. After a pause to tie off the latest braid before taking on the next, "Very lucky indeed. I might have tried to talk back, the more convoluted and awkward the better." Tiny sparkles drift through Solith's clear thoughts; of course she would, and so the sparkles lead... this way, to the Rim, Timor dimmed by the cloud cover but now and again peeking through nonetheless. (To Knioth from Solith) "Eh no. Maybe if there's a green he ever really takes a shine to and pesters me to the point of insanity. " She offers of gifts, "I usually just settle for a good beer and dinner." Is it any difficulty to see how incredibly opposite she can be from her lifemate? Scrub, scrub scrub. "As long as no one ever uses the word bosom I think I'll survive." Flatly spoken. The distant drum of soldiers marching echoes the sparkles as the twin banners of the blue's wings lift him to the rim where the green awaits. Landing nearby, though careful to be respectful of her space. « M'lady. » He greets in his brassy baratone. (To Solith from Knioth) "I won't tell him if you won't," Telavi says distractedly, right before rinsing out her ears; maybe she had suds in them, and hadn't heard Ghena right. "What do you have against bosoms? 'Bosom' is a perfectly good word. 'Her heaving bosom.' 'The bosom of one's family'... which is not the same thing, ugh. 'Bosom' is like 'booze' and 'hum' put together," and she might go on except all of a sudden she wavers on her feet and reaches for the edge of the pool to stabilize herself. Solith's rarely one to worry about personal space... and she isn't now, even if she doesn't stay. She greets him with a quiet croon but then she has to go after all; someone is falling asleep and Solith must rescue her. (To Knioth from Solith) Ghena doesn't get the chance to laugh fully, reaching a hand out to help steady the woman incase she decides to crack her skull against the stones of the pool. "You ok there?" To Solith, Knioth projects « Fair thee well sweet lady. » Her touch is apologetic, and really, it can't be the easiest always rescuing Telavi from this or that... but she does it anyway. (To Knioth from Solith) Telavi gives her a grateful look for it, too, once she can focus enough; "I'm all right, it's just-- well, not all all right actually," she admits as though hearing advice whispered into her ear. "It's just... talking, I... I forget about being tired and tonight I really have to sleep actual sleep and it's hard and... I'll just be quiet now. And finish and drink something not-booze and sleep." Finish quickly, or so she can hope, and get herself safely up to sleep before she really does keel over. |
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