Logs:Suds and Blood
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 November, 2013 |
| Who: A'rist, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist and Edyis encounter each other in the Bathing Caverns and talk about the things that have changed since the hatching. |
| Where: Bathing Caverns |
| When: Day 16, Month 5, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Rone/Mentions |
  |
| Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup. The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweet sand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
There are those who come to the baths to relax and warm up, and then there are those who come to the baths in the precious downtime between gory killings of herdbeasts and gory decorating of the barracks. A'rist is in the latter category, arriving at a pretty good clip, arms crossed and at the bottom of his shirt to twist and pull it off even before he's got to benches. Others are hardly looked at even once he's done stripping, even as he grabs soap on his way to the pools. Climbing in, at least, requires slowing down. Temperature change. His face, she recognizes from the short time as candidates, though it takes her a moment to recall his name. "Rough day I take it, A'rist?" Uncertain if she got the pronunciation right. She studies him a moment, after he's properly in the bath of course. Ah yes she avoided this terrible fate of gory taste in decor. Edyis rolls her shoulders, "I think you have a scrap of meat or - is that blood?" She squints a moment, "Why do you have blood in your hair?" Concern colors her expression, "Have you been to the healer for that?" Edyis has clearly never met Lythronath and therefore can have no comprehension of how messy he is. "Sorry?" For a moment, Edyis might well have two heads, the way the bronze weyrling is looking at her. A wet hand comes to probe tentatively at his head - though when it comes away with a string of something once animal, he just shrugs. "Oh, that's not mine." The flesh string is flicked off to the side, to splat just beyond the lip of the pool. Back to sudsing. "Don't really notice those so much these days." But maybe self-conscious, he ducks underwater after those words. While relieved that it is not his blood, she still seems a bit shocked and tries to get her wits back in place. "I see, Weyrling stuff then. It must be a challenge to keep up with so much extra work." She checks her fingers for ink stains again and absently scrubs at her face a second time. Injury was one thing but if it was just messiness, well she was far from one to judge. A'rist is wiping water away from his eyes when he answers, "You sort of get used to it. It's not as hard as it was at first. Well," and with the hesitation comes a grab for more soap sand, "not in the same way anyway." The soap sand is pushed right through his hair, spiking it up haphazardly. "I guess that's good. I can't say I understand what you mean, but I am glad to know that it's getting easier for you." She studies him a moment thoughtfully, "You impressed bronze right?" There is no giggling for the haphazard spikes, though a smile crosses her lips. "I'm supposed to be doing life sketches, as one of Master Jeroman's assignments, if you don't mind could I observe you guys hunting sometime?" Another dunk, this time to rinse the sand and spikes away. "Well, it's different than when they were really little. Now it's busy but like... not just... changing their pants and burping them, I guess." But the comparison doesn't quite fit, if the twist of his mouth and scrunch of his nose are anything to gauge. Getting a leg up on the lip of the pool for foot scrubbing, and looking back over his shoulder to the former candidate, "Do you have a strong stomach?" "Ah." Changing diapers she understood, even if it isn't an apt comparison it's better than no frame of reference at all. As for a strong stomach, her thoughts drifted back to her home and the night of the fires. "I would think I am able to withstand more than some." Diplomatic the reply comes as politely she averts her eyes. "Why? Is it that gruesome?" She settles on the last word after a moment of deliberation. A'rist lifts an eyebrow, tilts his head. "Not so much for some of the other dragons. But Lythronath?" He nods his head toward the bit of animal on the side of the pool. "What's life sketching supposed to teach you?" On to the other leg, now, and he's looking over the other soldier. "If you don't mind my asking." Quiet at mention of his life mate, she contemplates how bad it could be. Eww. At the question, she smiles, cheeks dimpling. "Not at all, I'm sure you know that there are countless records in the records room. Over the course of the years those records deteriorate, some more quickly than others. Some of the more scholarly texts that deal with things like healing, herbs or even survey reports require a bit of artistic skill to copy. Life drawing teaches proportion, shading and other important skills to capture the moment more precisely, and with time you gain speed so that you can sketch something very quickly. Accuracy is important in preserving knowledge. Speed is important in that it can take years to copy some of the heavier texts." "That makes sense." It's not dismissal, nor overtly contemplative, but the sound of something being filed away. A'rist gives a quick nod, and drops his leg down. "Well, if you want, you're welcome to watch him. But if you get nauseous or splattered..." Empty hands are held up as he turns around, show of innocence, uninvolvement. "Your own risk," comes with a quirk of a smile, a bit after. Edyis chuckles, "I will take that under advisement. So Lythronath is your dragon, kind of fun to say." Probably not so much to spell. "So other than having a horrible messy eater, what else is he like?" She asks curious. "Lythronath is my dragon," A'rist repeats, pride evident in the confirmation. For a moment, his arms still at his sides, and he simply stands tall in the bath water. Just a moment. "He's... very..." And then the bronzerider smiles. "Visceral." "So I gathered. So do you see what he sees, and smell what he smells and so on?" A grin in return for his own, "He sounds very interesting," She moves to her towel and pulls herself out of the water, wrapping herself up quickly. "I look forward to meeting him." the last a touch cautious. "The Residential quarters aren't quite the same as the candidate barracks, it feels so much bigger there." Wistful. A'rist laughs, shrugging as he resumes scrubbing, now his back. "I don't even have to. He just tells me all of it. Shares it." A longer look to Edyis, his arms still in their positions, one elbow up above his head, the other at his side where his arm has wrapped around. "I don't think he'll share with you, though. I think he's gone past that point, now. So that should be okay." And, rinsing. "Bigger in the residential quarters? Isn't that good?" The process of towel drying her hair begun, she laughs. "I thought dragons couldn't share with those who were not their rider. Or do you mean he actually tries to get you to share his food?" She offers a shrug, "It's not bad in that there's more space, It just feels different you know? I came from a small hold and I could hear my younger sisters snoring at night. As a candidate you could hear everyone around you, now. Well, just makes me realize how immense this place is I guess." It was hard to explain. "I'd heard there were a lot who weren't wanted back," A'rist says, frowning, troubled. "That that's how come it's been taking so long for them to settle all the rest of Rone's men. Or the men that used to be his, I guess." Turning his back again, he unwraps that towel once he's at his bench, this time to dry from head to toe before re-dressing. "Maybe they weren't from there though or something," called after a moment to think. Edyis says, His men wouldn't be wanted. Not after the things they have done." Hard words, her mouth a hard line. She draws a breath and runs a comb through her hair before beginning to work it back into it's usual braid. "If you had burnt the fields of your neighbors, stolen their sons or killed even. Would you want to go back? Would you be able to face that kind of crime?" She asks absently, "I know I wouldn't." A'rist turns once his belt has been buckled, while he's sorting out his shirt so as not to pull it on backwards. "I... don't know." And something there troubles him, enough that he frowns, and looks down, hands knotting into the shirt a moment. "I think it depends on whether you think it's a crime or not. What if people do things that some call awful, but they just think are... ordinary? Or worse, right?" Pale in the face, even after all that scrubbing, he pulls the shirt over his head. Edyis frowns. "What part of murder is ever ordinary?" She counters quietly, "I lost my father to them. Our family may well have starved if not for quick thinking." There is a heavy sigh, as she looks over at him. "Maybe I can forgive some, but I don't think I have it in me yet to forgive whoever set the fires at Esvay. I don't know that I ever will. The rest - maybe someday." A'rist hasn't got colour back in his cheeks when he resurfaces from the cloth. There's a silent dip of his head, which he holds for a moment, perhaps out of respect. And then, more softly than a public room might allow to be heard, a quiet, "I should get back to my dragon." She studies A'rist, really studies him for a moment. Whatever thoughts she has, or compassion she might feel however she cannot bring herself to voice. Softly, "Of course, Clear skies A'rist." |
Leave A Comment