Logs:Scrubbing It Off
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 11 November, 2015 |
| Who: N'rov, R'oan |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two dragonriders are sympathetic in the middle of a plague. |
| Where: Hot Springs, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 3, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
  |
The Hot Springs are contained within a high domed cavern, the walls
perpetually glistening with a combination of condensation and mica. Steam
drifts through the cavern from the surface of four different-sized pools.
The largest takes up most of the cavern, big enough to hold three
full-grown dragons and is easily reached through the archway from the
Bowl. Three smaller pools, more suited for human use, are clustered near
the entrance leading toward the Inner Cavern. A set of shelves and benches
line the wall nearest the Inner Cavern, fully stocked with pots of
soapsand and towels for those without the foresight -- or means -- to
bring their own.
While the dragon pool is a natural creation, the human pools are the
result of Ancient ingenuity and have been constructed with hewn steps and
seating. The water in all of the pools is warm to hot, and are a perfect
place to bathe young weyrling dragons or for residents to relax after a
long day of work. With such news out of Boll, the afternoon surely ought to be dark instead of bright-skied; at least the cavern is itself appropriately dark (minus glows) and quiet (minus the splashes) and humid (minus nothing at all). N'rov's been here for some time now, with Vhaeryth, scrubbing Vhaeryth who's twisted his neck around to keep an eye on his man and let his dark copper-chased wings drift in the more liquid darkness of the water. It is, apparently, a leisurely afternoon for R'oan; he has no dragon with him and has not been to drills. It may be that he has just woken, given the slight muss to blonde hair and the shadow of subtle to his jaw. And the wrinkled aspect of his shirt and pants, but as he steps into the bathing rooms, he starts to strip out of those shamelessly. It's only after he's straightened and started looking over the pools that his gaze catches on N'rov and Vhaeryth, watching the other man's scrubbing for a second. He's meticulous about it, a little too much perhaps; the bronze vents a rumble that might be protest, unless it's just a signal to look back at Etrevth's rider. N'rov does, look back that is, and the moment that might be nothing from the generally convivial rider turns into a nod. And that is when Vhaeryth chooses to drop low into the water and out of easy reach, leaving N'rov stranded to the side. Ineffectual, if only for now. "I think he's done," R'oan will comment helpfully from his own sidelines, apparently not concerned in rushing to a bathing pool despite the lean length of nakedness he's exposing. Indeed, he seems very at ease, with N'rov's scrubbing, with that markedly different behavior-- With everything, as he slides a careless look over the bronzerider. "No, really?" N'rov, not so comfortable, gray eyes hooding; he grimaces, and crouches, not for shelter but to sweep some of that same sweetsand for himself. If R'oan really wants to watch, he has an armpit to scrub. A low, derisive laugh only punctuates R'oan's answer for that, and he doesn't seem to want to watch, since he then turns away to retreat to one of the more human-sized bathing pools instead. So N'rov settles down there on the edge, his legs dangling in the water, already-pruned toes and all; there's the mirror side to deal with next. Meticulously. R'oan is nowhere near as meticulous. Especially when he only lazes in the hot waters for long moments after sliding into that pool, fingers dragging damply through hair before he leans back to close his eyes. It was, after all, a long day of drills. A long day of drills; another long day of shuttling healers not too close, not too far, just right. 'Just right'; who knows how far is truly safe. More quarantines will come, and there they are, getting clean if only through the water's efforts; there's splashing, scrubbing, and then suddenly a mutter of shells. A sigh escapes, barely audible, before R'oan peels open one eye to look unerringly towards the direction of the bronzerider. But then, he questions dryly, "What the fuck is wrong with you, bronzerider?" Then, N'rov's getting back out; he may be more-or-less clean by now, but the look he gives R'oan isn't. Maybe that's why it's the other man's pool he stops by, the better to reach for the pot of that sweetsand instead of what he's used up, instead of grabbing a fresh batch way over there on the shelves. "Shitty day, brownrider. How about yours?" "Shitty life, but you don't hear me sulking and sighing," counters R'oan carelessly, only sliding a look to watch as N'rov reaches for his sweetsand rather than stopping him. "Yeah? What's so shitty about your life," N'rov more doubts than dares. He drops into the pool, shoulder towards the other man, and gets busy. "Oh, do you care, bronzerider? Want to listen to my life story and tell me everything is not so bad, everything will be fine?" It seems, though, that R'oan already assumes that he does not, since he doesn't give any true answer. "Maybe I'll agree with you," N'rov supposes as he works. "Maybe I'll tell you that it sucks, and hand you a handkerchief while you cry." "Then I'll do the same for you about your shitty day and then we'll have a bonding moment," is all so dry and flat, as R'oan builds on the little story. "Swimming in saltwater, I tell you." N'rov eyes the pool, then re-ups on the sweetsand. The brownrider only responds with a low snort, finally reaching to claim back his pot of sweetsand before the bronzerider takes it all. R'oan does finally summarize, "Well now that we have that settled." It's a real hazard. N'rov smirks and, in however-temporary better humor, lets him. Eventually he'll get clean to even his satisfaction, even after a day like this; eventually he'll leave R'oan in... what passes for peace. |
Leave A Comment