Logs:White
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| RL Date: 28 January, 2015 |
| Who: A'rist, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Sometimes, you stink. Other times, you're covered in paint. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 12, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: F'manis/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions |
| Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr It's early in the evening; the baths are still somewhat sparsely populated. Perhaps the one noticeable thing out of the ordinary is the opaque cloud of color expanding outward from one end of the pool a radius of maybe a meter bubbles rising from the middle. It's a problem, for those wanting to get clean. A'rist's clothes are mostly off by the time he reaches the pool, though the reek and smudge of firestone still clings as much to his hair and face as to the pantleg that's stuck around his ankle. It stays stuck, when the bronzerider pauses. And then adjusts his stance, better to lean over the pool somewhat, and sniff. Eventually the need to breathe has Edyis surfacing, muttering to herself in a particularly grumpy fashion. The murking water is eyed as she pulls the length of her hair over her shoulder, finding much to her irritation that there's still whitewash in it. "Stupid shelves, stupid buckets. Stupid, stupid, stupid." As she sloshes over to where the soap bar sits at the edge of the water and begins to scrub ferociously. "You're white." An observation, from where A'rist is still leaned forward, though his eyes track down from her hair, and out to the water that's being... changed. Dark eyes dart upward, finding the bronze rider. She gives the air a delicate sniff in his direction wrinkling her nose. "And you smell like firestone." She observes in turn, though she does add "Someone put the whitewash powder in a bucket on the top of the storeroom shelves." The rest probably can be parsed out from that she assumes. "Iceberg did flame drills today?" "And then you picked it up and put it in the water?" A'rist asks, turning back to give a final tug and free his feet up from those pants. All that gets pushed off to the side, and he's moving quickly to get further down the pool, further away, before sitting on the edge to slide in. "Don't know what Iceberg did today," is called across that distance, eyes on the water, wary. More muttering as she submerges and resurfaces. "No I was after the pigments on the shelf below and the ladder wiggled, The shelf was loose, and the bucket came down on my head." A furious scrubbing of her hair accompanying the words, seemingly with more success. "I thought you were in Iceberg... or did I miss something," brows furrowing in confusion. A'rist tries to picture that, all while letting his body get accustomed to the warmth of the water. "So you had the ladder leaning on the shelves? Or," with a bit of a smirk, " was it a trap?" Once in the water, he takes another few steps back, for good measure, before dunking underneath. "Nope," delayed by that dunk, but immediate upon his resurfacing, "Taiga now." At trap, she stops scrubbing, considering it for a moment. "It could have been a trap I guess, but I did have the ladder leaned against the shelves. Can't think of anyone who would set a trap though." The scrubbing resumes as she glances over perhaps amused by the avoidance of the white cloud. "How's Lythronath taking to a blue giving orders? F'manis seems like he's alright." A'rist pushes his wet hair back on his head ( a bit sticks up toward the front), and then dips his hands repeatedly to draw more water up over it - while he can still make sure he's in relatively clean, non-whitened water. "Gotta get one of those ladders that stands on its own, with the two sides. Or get the shelves fixed." Helpful as ever. "Hasn't been any major issues with Isplonath so far. F'manis is pretty straightforward, I dunno. Maybe it helps." Edyis chuckles a little at the spike that remains standing up, though her attention returns to her hair. "Or get someone else to grab the pigments for me." For a moment she listens, and it's a beat or three before she asks, "Sounds like it's been a better fit then, better than H'vier at least. Do you like it?" "He doesn't just hate all blues, anyway," A'rist insists in a sort of afterthought, though it comes with a purse of his lips, a distant, thoughtful kind of look - which, soon enough, is hidden by a quick scrub to his face. "I dunno. Taiga was one of the ones I'd thought about when we were weyrlings. It's... Guess it's good to have a change?" This mostly spoken to her sideways, for how he's turned to start a thorough pre-rinse of his arm hair. Next, soap. "Why did you need pigments anyway?" "Still not really sure if it is where you two belong yet?" She murmurs, ducking under the water before answering his question. This time most of the white seems to have been rinsed away. Satisfied she begins to work on the rest of herself. "Have you seen the big curtain hanging in the back of the Riders' Lounge? K'del gave me permission to paint a mural, so I've been working on ever since I got back from Nabol. I want to have it finished in time for turnover." "We haven't been with Taiga that long, yet," A'rist points out. The laugh that hacks out of him at the idea of the mural might be inappropriate; he does scramble, after it's been issued, to explain: "Maybe you should've just kept the white. Call it 'Winter'. Done." That smirk is getting stronger. That scramble doesn't quite dampen the immediate sarcasm that rises after the laugh. "If Lythronath had fit I could have just let him paint it. Could have called it Red. Folks might complain about the smell after a while though." Cue her eye roll, but it's not malicious or even all that agitated. "Sometimes people need a task to work on to keep them out of trouble. If people don't like it, I can always whitewash over it I guess." "Blood," A'rist corrects. "It doesn't smell so much of it dries properly," is almost matter-of-fact, to follow. It might have made more sense, had she ever been to their ledge. "So long as it's keeping you out of trouble, I guess," the rider finishes, moving to the edge to secure soap. Soap that's been there since before he got in. Someone's soap. A'rist's, now. "I guess it's one of those things I'd have to see to believe. It's hard to imagine getting past the smell." Shoulders, arms fingers, the process seems to be going quite quickly now. "Maybe it's something you just get used to when you live with a giant meat-eating carnivore." Edyis finishes up the scrubbing, ducking below one final time before a careful inspection check for any missed spots. "Sunny days helps," A'rist notes. "With the drying. It sort of just smells like metal, then. The problem's really the meat." Somebody's soap is used on his body; neck, shoulders, chest, back, so far as he can reach. The rider saves his face for last, and then dunks to rinse. When he resurfaces, it's with a smart-assed, "Like instead of those other types of carnivores?" Satisfied Edyis makes her way to the edge, climbing out and finding a towel to dry herself. "In the case of the little ones, like canines and firelizards, It's just easier to do something about it." She snickers, "Alida feeds her fire lizard mint, for example." She laughs then at the thought. "It would take a few fields of mint to rid your dragon of rotten meat breath." She's smirking now. "I guess..." as he's wiping the water from his eyes. "But really we've got no reason to try and get that out of his breath. Especially when he's just gonna go and gore it up all over again a day or two later. Rotting flesh is just part of Lythronath." He's back up on the edge of the pool soon enough to deal with his legs, kind enough to point all the junk away from Edyis. And the murky end of the pool. "Kinda the point of the joke." She grins back, finished mostly with the drying and wrapping up her hair in the towel and hunting down the fresh set of clothes she tucked in the cubby. "Don't think he'd be Lythronath if he wasn't all meat and gore." She dresses quickly, fingertips making quick work of the buttons. "Hm," A'rist agrees, some of the mirth fading as he gets focused on cleaning between his toes. He can be thorough, when required. "So what are you gonna paint? Other than yourself, I mean?" Towel and powder covered clothes, deposited in the laundry bin. "What else do you paint in a bar that serves riders?" Edyis asks grinning as she brushes out the tangles and starts braiding her hair. "Dragons of course." "Sexy people," A'rist offers back with a shrug, not even looking up from his toes. "But yeah, I guess," he's willing to allow. That turns her cheeks a faint shade of scarlet. "More K'zin's forte than mine." Her voice might even squeak just a tiny bit at the thought. "Gotta get back to work though shift starts soon. See you round?" A'rist probably would've been highly satisfied, to see her blush. But he's not looking at much beyond his feet. Oh well. "Sure," called over his shoulder, his head bobbing, fingers scrubbing between the other set of toes now. "Try not to spill anything, huh?" "Right." Voice still slightly squeaky, "I will do my best." With that? She flees! |
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