Logs:Social Graces
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| RL Date: 9 June, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Dee, Eadgyd, Elaruth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie has some help bathing Elaruth. |
| Where: Hot Springs, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 13, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| The thing with having your own private bath is that you don't need to venture forth to the public ones, except that plan doesn't really work when your lifemate requires a bath and will not fit into that pool no matter how much she might wish to. While Hattie waits, sat at the edge of the larger pool of the hot springs, one of her weyrmate's shirts thrown on over a vest and loose, ragged-hemmed trousers, Elaruth makes her way in from the bowl, her progress into the water made with as little splashing as she can manage, which still... involves splashing. The little queen seems quite at home in the water and promptly submerges herself before resting her head on the side of the pool, where she can rest her nose in her rider's lap. The thing about a list of tasks appearing on a workaholic's bed is... they do them. Dee must have duties that allow her to be here, because one duty wouldn't be forgone for another, more optional one. Still, there have almost certainly been other dragons, smaller dragons, she might've helped bathe, but it seems to be Elaruth specifically that she's been haunting the hot springs for. Wearing, in the warmth of the cavern, a pair of light pants rolled up past the knee and stripped down to her brown undershirt, Dee makes the approach with rags tied to her woven belt. "Need a hand, ma'am?" is the pleasant greeting offered to the Senior, not even a little tentative today. "We have these lists and--" Surely Hattie knows of the lists, doesn't she? Perfect excuse to be obnoxiously helpful. It's a preoccupied Eadgyd who makes her way into the hot springs, still fully clothed though she sports sandals rather than her usual boots. She doesn't do her usual sweep of her surroundings, but instead heads directly for the shelves and the safe embrace of towels, and then abruptly stops. Because voices. And voices mean she isn't alone, which has Ead halting with one hand on a towel, shrinking at the idea of wearing less than her baggy shirt and pants. She glances over her shoulder, pale eyes widening when she spots Elaruth. She too has a list to follow, but she was thinking of something much, much smaller. Hattie has her feet in the water, certainly, yet that's as far as she seems to be willing to go now that there are more obvious presences nearby and words are actually being directed at her. She blinks a little blearily from Elaruth to Dee, motion in the periphery of her vision drawing her to clock Eadgyd a little less obviously, but still she stares wordless for just a moment more than might be comfortable. It's only when she glances down to the basket beside her with its brushes and other assorted equipment that she appears to remember why she's here. "I... Yes," she slowly agrees. "If you can be gentle," she adds, smoothing a hand over Elaruth's nose. "Yes, ma'am," Dee's cheeriness manages to be tempered by respect for the woman she's speaking to. "Elaruth is bigger than my parents' dragons, but I'm sure either of them would give me a recommendation to her for dragon-washing." What are weyrbrats good for if not assisting with this frequent chore? She does reconsider after a moment, "Well, actually, maybe not my father's. He has a sense of humor." Perhaps not one given to glowing reviews to foreign queens. "I could use a hand, though," comes as if she were only now noticing Eadgyd. She directs a too pleasant smile to the older girl. "Eadgyd," still a little mispronounced, though this is almost certainly not purposeful, "have some time to help me wash Elaruth?" If there's one thing Dee is pretty guilty of, it's volunteering people to things in situations that make it difficult to gracefully decline. With the idea of bathing now thoroughly abandoned, Eadgyd begins an awkward, indecisive shuffle that doesn't seem able to decide between approaching the Weyrwoman (can't let Dee get ahead) and making for the exit. She's doing a strange sideways crab-step when Dee spots her and issues the oh-so-kind invitation. Ead's expression darkens for a moment - something sharp directed at the other girl - but it smooths over with a quietly resigned sigh. "I have time," she admits as her steps gain some direction and head toward them. "What do I need to do?" Elaruth lifts her head and uses the motion of paws that don't break the surface of the water to slowly ease herself away from the edge of the pool, so that she can look up at Eadgyd and Dee, her eyes a calm blend of greens and blues. She regards each of them steadily, study given, yet not intensely, then sinks a touch further into the water, submerging her shoulders. The funny, off-key clattering noise that she makes could easily be greeting or her equivalent of a murmur of contentment. Hattie still doesn't budge from her perch. "Take a brush," is meant for both girls, but answers Eadgyd's question too. "Sweeping motions over her hide. Not too much over the same spot." Dee's motion is fluid, taking up a brush from the basket, and pausing only long enough at the edge of the pool to rid herself of some of the rags that would be extra weight once wet. "My mother always likened it to dusting," she offers up as much to Hattie as to Eadgyd. "Dusting something precious. Not so hard that you'd damage it, but with just enough pressure to make sure you're leaving it pristine. She was-- well, I suppose here you'd call it a caverns worker, before she Stood." It's the sort of anecdote to engender conversation that might pass the time as the girls undertake the task. She has a low greeting for Elaruth before brush is put to hide. Eadgyd watches Elaruth with caution, not particularly scared of her, but not particularly comfortable either. But a stubborn temperament goes a long way, and rather than put more distance between herself and the gold she forces herself to close the gap. Hattie's instruction is met with a mute nod as she stoops to pick up a brush. It's then that she seems to realize that the legs of her pants will get in the way, and so the brush is set upon the ground while she kneels to roll her pants up to her knees. Then with brush in hand, she makes her way over to join Dee. Her brush skims along Elaruth's hide once, barely putting any pressure at all. "How often do you have to do this?" she asks, giving away how little attention she has paid to this aspect of Weyr life. Elaruth is helpful insofar as she paddles nearer to Dee and Eadgyd, no sudden motions made either owing to her temperament or what she can tell of wariness. With the form of her queen a barrier between herself and the Candidates, Hattie finally slips into the water, grasping a brush of her own, and moves to start at Elaruth's flanks, where the majority of silvery scars tangle over pale gold. "I suppose that analogy works," she agrees in a low murmur. "Some dragons might be able to tolerate proper scrubbing, but perhaps she feels the pressure and texture of the brush more than they do." The smile she summons is a little wry. "How often depends on whether your dragon like to play in the mud, as she," Elaruth receives a gentle nudge, "does. This, and oiling, every few days, to avoid patchy hide." "I'm told dragons are as varied as people in their habits and personali-" Dee's addition to the conversation is interrupted by someone calling her name, another candidate hurrying into the cavern. The other candidate stops short upon seeing what task the brunette is engaged in. "Apologies, Weyrwoman," is squeaked to her. "I was sent to fetch Dee back to the barracks." Probably, the other girl should stay and explain but it seems she's in a hurry to be gone herself, and with a crisp salute, turns on a heel to go, Dee making apologies and polite excuses to Hattie before she follows. "I'll be sure to make myself available another time," she adds just before moving to snag a towel, her shoes and be gone. Eadgyd is in no danger of irritating Elaruth, that's for certain. Her brush strokes are barely there, just skimming over the golden hide in front of her. Of course, she's also likely not in any danger of actually cleaning Elaruth, either. "How do you manage it? She's so big. I don't think I could take oiling and cleaning a dragon this size." The words seem to reach her ears only after they've left her mouth, and she rather hastily adds, "No offense meant to either of you." Her gaze lifts from her task as a somewhat familiar face appears and calls Dee away, leaving her to curiously wonder why the other candidate is needed when she isn't. She lifts a hand in a half-hearted farewell, unconsciously leaning after them. Hattie doesn't question the other girl, nor Dee, and simply lets them depart with only a half-wondering look to follow after them, until she returns her attention to her queen and to Eadgyd. "Bit by bit," she offers in answer, amusement, rather than offense, touching the line of her lips. "She's small, for a queen. Barely bigger than Bijedth." It's not an insult; not the way she says it, with an unconscious lean nearer to her lifemate. "Sometimes, my children help. Sometimes other children help. She likes people and enjoys having company, so I've that on my side, whereas some dragons won't let anyone but their rider touch them." She tries a smile, small though it is. "If you Impress, you'll get used to it taking longer as they grow." "If this is small..." Her voice trails off, leaving the rest of that though lingering in the nether. "I'd prefer something smaller, if I impressed. A dragon I could easily wash myself." Eadgyd dips a slight nod of apology in Elaruth's direction, just in case. Her tone still sounds somewhat dubious as the thought of impressing at all. "I'm used to washing animals," she admits after a moment of careful, gentle scrubbing, "But that doesn't take all day, or require any kind of assistance. She dips the brush in the water, trying to clean away any dirt (unlikely) which might have accumulated on the bristles. "Do they just hatch like that, ether not liking people or liking them? Or can you get them to be more social as they grow?" Elaruth twists a little bit to nose gently at Eadgyd in response to her nod, mindful not to splash, even if her nose is wet. "I suppose greens are easier, or should I say quicker, to bathe... About half of Elaruth size at the smaller end of the scale," Hattie thinks aloud. "Smaller blues would be marginally larger. Well, depending on the dam. Elaruth's blues and gr--" It's with a bitter, pained grimace that she stops and ducks her head, a moment taken before she squares her shoulders and looks up again. "They're usually smaller," she murmurs. The moves along hide in silence for a while, until: "It's a bit like socialising children, I guess. Elaruth liked people and dragons, but lots of them together could be overwhelming for her. Would you want a dragon with social graces?" Eadgyd still flinches away in spite of the gold's gentle attempt. In the wake of that kneejerk reaction, she scowls down at her feet with the frustration of someone who has failed herself in some small way. Perhaps it's this personal insecurity that causes her head to snap up when Hattie breaks off, her eyes narrowed as though she might somehow see through Elaruth to the Weyrwoman. "It really bothers you, doesn't it?" she asks, head tilted. "I know it's not my business, but it seems like it does. Like you have a hard time even thinking about it." She's scrubbing ever-so-diligently (and gently), just in case Hattie decides to come around and give her what for. At least she'll be doing something right. She clears her throat, trying to focus in singlemindedly on the task at hand. "I don't know, ma'am," she says with a grimace of a smile, "I'd want help with this kind of thing, so I guess I would." She doesn't push, but nor does Elaruth take offense and move away, but rather she settles back down and makes no further, obvious efforts to edge into Eadgyd's space, taking her lead as far as how close she'd like to be. She allows herself a low croon, the sound meant to be comforting, though she persists at it no longer than the breath or so of its duration. Hattie's silence stretches for so long that it could seem that she's not going to answer at all, out of choice or simple incapability, yet eventually she utters, "Yes." And then, like she has to justify herself: "Not because of guilt, but because she was hers and she hurt and--" What else, she can't grapple with, and now the queen swings her nose to tuck in against her rider, though Hattie continues with the brush even with one arm around Elaruth's jaw. "...What would you want in a dragon, if you could choose?" For just a moment, Eadgyd places her hand instead of the brush on Elaruth's hide, but quickly withdraws it again. An apology for her distance, perhaps? Whatever it is, it's gone in a flash and the candidate works with care to make it seem as though nothing slightly out of the ordinary occurred. In a surprising moment of understanding - or perhaps just respect - she allows Hattie her silence. When the answer comes, it's met with a nod and a puckered brow. It's something she'll likely never truly grasp unless she's placed in the same circumstances, so the most she can do is offer a quiet, "I'm sorry." The question catches her off-guard and her brush pauses mid-stroke, hesitating before the motion resumes again. "I don't know," she admits, the words drawn from her lips slowly, "I've tried to think about it. I have hard time imagining wanting another voice in my head, let alone one being there. I can't imagine just... loving something the way dragonriders seem to love their dragons, let alone picking out what I'd want one to be like." Elaruth is sensitive enough, in more ways than one, to feel what Eadgyd does, perhaps on more than one level, and so, while she doesn't draw more obvious attention to it, she does make another half-moment's worth of that soft, crooning sound, easily passable as meant for her rider, or meant for Eadgyd, or meant for the both of them. Maybe it's meant for all of them - even her. Hattie's on firmer ground when it comes to the matter of dragons not of recent memory, and so it can be of little surprise that she chooses to escape into that vein of conversation. "My advice?" she offers. "Don't think too long on what you expect. Don't... build up a big picture of what you think your dragon should be like. If one chooses you, let them be the one to show you what you need." She tries to brighten then, forced though it is. "Come on. Help me a little with her wings and I'll sign that grid off for you." True to her word, she won't subject Eadgyd to scrubbing Elaruth from head to toe. Eadgyd cracks a private smile at that soft croon, ducking her head to make sure that pleased expression stays completely hidden. Maybe that noise means nothing, but she takes it as some small personal victory. Hattie's advice causes her head to lift and a little burst of laughter to escape her lips. "Oh, I don't think that's a problem. I'm still trying to convince myself that I want to ride a dragon. I can't even get to imagining one for myself," is her dry admittance. At the Weyrwoman's request, she moves to join the other woman for a proper lesson in wing-scrubbing. "Thank you," is uttered at least once before they part ways. That's one task down... a lot more to go if victory is to be hers. |
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