Logs:No Troubles, Bubbles
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| RL Date: 27 January, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Barnabas |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia finds an outlet for some her frustration and helplessness in Bones. Not in the way one might expect. |
| Where: Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 11, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia. Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy. Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries. Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced. A seven or so has passed since those fateful goldflights and though the Weyr seems restless, disturbed, life carries on. So late in the evening, Azaylia is hardly expecting any visitors. The goldrider should be in bed, not that it would guarantee sleep judging from the purpled skin beneath her eyes. With several hides sorted into productive piles around her, she is curled up against a corner of the couch that Bones usually calls his bed. A roaring fire are enough to keep the night's chill at bay, allowing her to relax in a sleek, baby blue robe and wooly socks. Though the day has been bright, no doubt it is winter trying to lure them all into a false sense of security. More hours of sleep are caught in the misty heat of the greenhouse for the gardener these days. It's not that he's set out to avoid Azaylia of course. Not precisely. But even someone as politically uninvolved as Bones can appreciate the need for a man like him to stay that way. Uninvolved. Now though, late at night, the thought of a familiar soft couch is calling his name more than ever. She'd probably be asleep by now, right? After a twelve hour day of shoveling earth and compost in the humidity of a glass box, he's skipped his usual trip to the bathing pools to walk straight from the greenhouse to the place he calls home. Zee's place. He still has a thin sheen of sweat on his bruised forehead as he enters, shedding the heavy weight of his coat in a pile by the floor before he's even realized the fire is lit, and Zee is in his bed. "... Oh." A nervous smile. "You're up?" Azaylia looks up from the report she's reading, frozen in the act of taking a sip of cooling tea. Beat. "O-oh. Bones." She greets, only slightly awkward. It's entirely possible that she has forgotten his existence in the chaos, which seems to be his intention. Now, she's all too aware of him. All of him. The mug is abandoned to place a hand up against her mouth, fingers curling just so in order to shield her nostrils. "What is that?" A smell similar to her family's stables back in Keroon. The fire can't be helping, cooking the ripe gardener as long as he stands there. The man takes a blink or two, a few seconds required to even realize the full implication of her presence. It's only after his tired mind has wrapped around that much that he moves on to the next issue. His smell. So desensitized to the funk he's built up over the day, he actually takes the moment to lift each heavy boot up to examine it's sole in the dim light. He didn't step in anything, so what's the big deal? "I- I'unno?" He unlaces the heavy boots, and as he's stepping on the heels of them to step out one at a time, he lifts one of his long arms to shove his still-bandaged nose right in to the wiry black hairs underneath his arms. He can't smell a thing, but that didn't mean there's nothing there. "Do I stink?" It's not enough to have Azaylia's eyes watering, but her hand isn't lowering anytime soon. The report is placed to the side, also careful to transfer the mug from against her leg onto the low table before she stands. "Bones." Not quite a scold, more of a sound of disbelief at his inability to smell himself. "You... bath. Now.." Breathless voice may be muffled by her hand, oddly firm as she approaches the large man. "I don't know why you didn't use the baths..." Not that it matters now, thumb and index pinching his vest and tugging him towards her chambers. Too exhausted to be too crestfallen at how quickly south their reunion is going, there's simply a sigh of breath leaving him as he moves to put his shoes back on. Time to trudge himself and his twenty pounds of fur coat to the bathing pools so as not to stink up her whole weyr, right? Wrong. His toes are only halfway in one of those boots before she takes a pinch of his vest and starts leading him to her place of cleansing. "Zee?" There isn't much question to his question, but she could figure it out. There's a distinct lack of control in Azaylia's life at the moment. What hold she has on the Weyr seems to be slipping through her fingers. This? This is a problem easily solved. "You need a bath." She offers, tone much more gentle now that the shock has warn off. "I have a bath." It's a few steps up, leading him past the folding screen to the generously sized tub of steaming water. While there are several pots of scented soapsand within reach, there are also a great number of beauty products in various bottles and boxes which crowd the warm area. "I don't mind. I've already had mine this morning." Bones can't remember ever having actually stopped to look at her bath before, and he takes a moment to simply stand and ponder every cleanser, moisturizer, ointment and unguent she has available. Of course in his mind, they're labeled much more simply. "Which one is the soap? Is it the... green one?" By color, naturally. "No, the white one right?" As he asks, he's already slowly stripping himself of vest and undershirt, left to fall to the floor without much care. Though there is a pause in him at the thought of stripping from the waist down, wondering if she's still right behind him. Will she care? Why does he? Pants drop to the floor next, giving her brief glimpse of the one bit of ink he has below the waist before slowly lowering himself into the bath. "All of these." Azaylia motions with her free hand towards the row of colored glass pots lined up next to the edge of the bath. As he strips she walks past him and lifts a green lid, fanning the scent enough for her to catch a whiff. "You might want this one? It's woodsy. I don't use it much." A robust scent, far too much for someone as delicate in character as she. By the time she glances back up he's naked. The goldrider doesn't bother to hide her curious inspection of his body, seemingly unbothered by the big man's nudity as he enters her bath. "...is that a heart?" Hesitant, worried about how ridiculous that question sounds out loud. "Yup." Bones is uncharacteristically short of syllables this evening. A heart tattoo on an ass usually merits the kind of story Bones itches to tell, given that it's his. Instead, he's surprisingly curt while lowering into the water, his thickly toned but oddly pale flesh beginning its thorough soak. A long, low groan of satisfaction starts soft, but can only grow louder as the soothing warmth seeps right into his aching joints. "Zeeee..." he starts, eyes already closed, grin wide and happy. "You're a life saver. Thank you." "You're very welcome." Azaylia answers with a gentle smile, securing her robe's sash as she stands and reaches for a low shelf. Bones may be feeling grateful, but that might change as the bath is disturbed near the edge upon her return. Without warning, she leans over and empties a bath pitcher's worth of water over his head in an attempt to completely drown his scent. If she notices his oddly quiet nature, the goldrider doesn't say anything of it. She's used to people acting off these days. Broad shoulders hunch up high by his ears as the water is dumped clear over his head, his whole frame frozen for a few seconds after the deed is done. With a quick little spritz of water squirted between pouting lips, he finally relaxes back into the bath. "Coulda warned me on that one Zee, heh." Realizing now that she won't let him simply enjoy the warm water on its own merits, a sigh leaves him as he reaches for this woodsy soapsand she insists is befitting. He's skeptical, but gives her the benefit of the doubt in working it into his chest and arms. "So uhhh, you and Taikrin eh? Weyrleader and Weyrwoman? That's kinda crazy." He hasn't gotten all the details. "Sorry." Azaylia sounds it, even through the tired laugh. "Desperate times." She tries not to read too deeply into her own tease, given the state of the Weyr. The goldrider shifts so that she can sit behind one of his shoulders, the man close enough to the edge to inspire her into action. Looking between two rather tall, opaque bottles she pauses as his question pulls her from her cleansing-inspired distraction. "Not... It is crazy." She can agree to that, popping a bottle open and giving it an inquisitive sniff. "Arekoth caught Iesaryth at the same time. Ah- H'kon's dragon caught Brieli's. So there isn't a Weyrleader." He'll feel his weighty locks being fussed over, deciding to warn him by way of a question, "Do you wash your hair?" It doesn't look like it, matted in some areas as it is. "I'm going to." It'll give her something to focus on that's not... everything else. "So there's like, more than one? Can that happen?" Even he's not so out of touch with weyr life that the question is a serious one. Of course it can't happen. "Man, am I just bad luck or somethin'? Why can't nothin' ever go smooth at this Weyr eh? Hehe." It's meant to be light-hearted, but the soft laughter tapers off in a way that's a little uncomfortable. "Sorry Zee. I know you're probably burnt out somethin' feirce on politi- Huh?" Question about his hair catches him off guard. "Oh, yeah. Sure, y'can... wash me." He's just slightly tentative about bathing in front of females these days. Azaylia has made her intentions known but the ex-convict's words have her hesitanting with a heavy silence. His tease is answered with a low whisper, "I don't know." Why can't anything ever go smoothly? Swallowing, she realizes that she's been staring into the churning waters with the bottle in her hand. Tipping the oily, liquid soapsand into her hand she guides the floral goo, a controlled trail leading right into his hair. He'll smell so pretty, after this. "I used to give Wheatley baths when he was little." The goldrider explains, realizing her request is an odd one even as she buries fingers in the tangled mass to lather it up. "My little brother. It was... I don't know. It felt good to do something for him." Just like it does now, well kept nails scrubbing at his scalp. Bones closes one eye as she begins to work the soap into his wild black mane, face scrunching up a bit of concern for errant soap dripping into his eyes. Still, it's a pretty girl washing your hair for you, what's not to like? "Well, if you wanna do nice stuff for me, I suppose I'll let ya. Y'know, for your sake baby doll. Hehe." He takes a smiling sigh, trying to force himself to relax even with feirce fingers cleaning his hair of collected muck. "Been missin' ya somethin' feirce. Worryin' too, but mostly missing." Experienced hands back her claim, strong fingers scrubbing through his defiant locks while palms scoop any dripping suds away from his face. It's a reflex, which leaves him thankfully without soapy eyes. "I feel so... so useless." Azaylia murmurs to herself. If she has to scrub a hairy guy to feel useful, then so be it. Her hands don't slow, radiating out from his scalp to the length of hair, "A lot of people are worrying about me. I don't know why. I have Brieli." And with only slightly less certainty, "And Taikrin." As for his missing her, "Have you been very busy in the greenhouse?" Why else would he be making himself scarce? "Zee, I'd be real surprised if you had anything close to one real enemy in this whole friggin' weyr. 'Course everyone is worried for ya." As she speaks, he gets a slightly clearer image as to why she might be so intently... attending to him. He's a task to complete? He doesn't mind. "Y'aint useless." Reassuring her is the easy part. It's talking about himself that's a little uncomfortable for him. "Well... s'not like the greenhouse is ever really busy, y'know? Not a lot that needs to be done unless you go especially lookin' for things to keep you working." Which he has. "Just wouldn't feel right to be in your way right now what with everythin' goin on. Been tryin' to keep outta things just so y'can have a clear head." This time Azaylia's fingers do slow once they reach his hair's ends, which are most likely split. "...thank you." For his confidence in her lack of enemies, for his reassurance in general. One hand reaches up to grip the soapy mass on his head, giving a tug, "Head back." Her tone is borrowed from those days of bathing a rowdy younger brother. When he does as she asks, the weyrwoman uses that pitcher from earlier in order to begin rinsing his locks. "I appreciate that." Honestly. And yet, "But don't worry about bothering me." With a soft laugh, "You never did before. Don't you start acting strange, too." Strange for Bones, which means he's acting downright sane. Considerate, even! "Do you want me to clear off the couch tonight?" Since she's currently got piles of weyrwomon's work taking up most of his bed. An obediant puppy for the evening, or perhaps new little brother, he tucks his head back just as she demands of him. Sensation of warm water sweeping out brackish filth leaves him tingling, and he can't help but let out another soft groan of pure warm pleasure. "Mmmmnn. The couch?" Smile broadens while eyes stay closed, a short beat before answering her question with an exaggerated sigh. "Well I suppose I might stick around tonight. Y'know, since you need me so much. Hehe." Eyes only open when it's clear she's done rinsing, but he keeps his head layed back so that he can look it her upside down. "Azaylia?" Her full name. "Might not matter too much weighed against the fate of the Weyr and all that heavy stuff, but no matter what goes down y'can always at least count on me to be with ya. That's something, right?" Azaylia can't keep the smile off of her face at his groan, the curl to her lips still rather weak. After she's done rinsing his mane, she leans forward to dip her hands and make sure that there's no soap left on them. It has her closer when his brown eyes open to catch hers, the young woman frozen at the sound of her full name. He's never done that before. The look of surprise is short lived, replaced by a warm expression and a faint quirk of her lips. "It matters." There's a quick peck to his forehead, pushing up onto her feet afterward to find him a fresh, fluffy drying cloth. She wipes her hands on it, first. "I'll go fix up the couch. Take your time." It's something that has become familiar now; an old routine that brings with it some comfort in these days of uncertainty. |
Comments
Jo (Jolie) left a comment on Mon, 28 Jan 2013 16:05:59 GMT.
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D'aww! Sweet scene. ^^ I just love how Bones and Azaylia interact. Such opposites that make the best roomies, ever!
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