Difference between revisions of "Logs:Slick"

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 sweetsand 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.

One of the perks of K'del's new position is that he's officially moved back into the Weyrleader's Weyr, and no longer has any need of the public bathing pools. Or... that's how it's supposed to work. It's a miserable, sleety afternoon, a couple of days before turn's end, and for reasons that aren't immediately apparent, K'del is neck-deep in the public pool, actively ignoring the bustle of weyrfolk around him. Indeed, he's even covered most of his face with a damp washcloth, which may mean he can't see anyone else, but doesn't mean he's not still pretty recognisable.

For H'vier, the days have been exceptionally miserable and not just because of the horrible, very-not-Istan weather. The weather probably hasn't helped his mood very much, though. The ambitious bronzerider has been pretty quiet since Reisoth failed to capture the senior gold again. But he was a little uncharacteristically quiet leading up to the inevitable flight, too. And now he's pretty quiet, brooding even, as he approaches the pool. It's not until he's mostly in it, too, that he recognizes K'del behind that washcloth. But leaving now would be even more awkward than just dealing with it, so H'vier says in lieu of actual greeting, "I thought getting your weyr back meant I wouldn't have to run into you here."

The washcloth doesn't entirely cover the thin, hard line of K'del's mouth - a line that gets thinner and harder, and rather more like a scowl, at the sound of H'vier's voice. "Decided to grace my mere mortals with my presence for a change," he says, though he doesn't exactly make it sound like a good, teasing comment; it's far too flat for that. The washcloth gets pulled away, and dumped back into the warm water: K'del's face is flushed from the heat of it, which does little to hide the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

It's not a good or teasing comment, and the laugh H'vier has in return isn't particularly friendly or light-hearted. "I think I speak for all of us," he begins as he settles down onto the outer ledge of the pool, "when I say that you shouldn't have. You look like shit. I think you're scaring the women and children away." No one is probably giving either of them that much mind. But that doesn't sound as nice.

"Yeah, well," says K'del, who is clearly too tired to come up with a good retort, "You try having a newborn in another Weyr, a dragon who can't fly, and a Weyr to lead." In other words: fuck you. "At least I don't go around scaring little girls, or upsetting their mothers." That's... only sort of what H'vier said. Whatever. He's the Weyrleader: it doesn't have to make sense. Right?

"I would've gladly taken the knot. You know that." H'vier sounds a little more genuinely amused when he says that. But it's gone, just like that, when K'del continues in that particular direction. The sense H'vier makes of it doesn't encourage warm, fuzzy feelings. "I can see how she might be scared of a real man when her 'father,'" sarcasm, possibly of the bitter variety, "is someone like you." He's supposed to be bathing, probably, but so far H'vier is just lounging.

That comment, that first one? K'del doesn't answer that one, not when there's that other aspect of the conversation to focus on, and scowl over. "Fuck you, H'vier," he says. "You may not like me, but Tayte does. And Vali loves me. And I," his gaze is meaningful, "Don't keep breaking her heart, over and over again. What kind of bastard are you? To do that to a women you supposedly love? She's better off without you." Not so much with the bathing here, either.

Jerking up to stand at his full height is probably a little more threatening when he's sitting at a table or something, not quite so much when he has water slowing him down. Even if he's slower than he'd like, H'vier still looks angry, and a hand has lifted to point a finger threateningly at K'del. "The only reason this bullshit is still going on with Vali is because I love Tayte." Sore spot, maybe? "And she will never be better off without me." He'll make sure of it? That's kind of what it sounds like he's not saying.

As tall as K'del is, he's not quite as tall as H'vier, and he's certainly not as well built - perhaps that's why he doesn't bother to try and stand when the other bronzerider does. Instead, he leans back, eyeing him with an expression of ill-concealed contempt. "So you're going to make her life a living hell if she decides to stay away? Bullshit." It's not threatening, just dismissive. "How many times have you broken her heart, now? How many times have I had to put the pieces back together for her, be her shoulder to cry on? If I thought it would help, I'd've had you transferred to Honshu long ago."

Turns out that it's difficult to argue with a man that you yourself have told the woman you love she ought to be with instead of you at one point or another. It's like showing up to a gunfight with no ammo versus the man that comes with an impressively full arsenal. It's difficult to tell which part of K'del's words set him off, exactly, but it all ends the same; with H'vier surging for the leaner bronzerider, a fist aimed at that infuriatingly contemptuous expression.

Although generally quite quick on his feet - making up for the lack of power in his build - K'del is just too tired at the moment, between one thing and another, to react in a timely fashion; H'vier's fist connects squarely, forcing the younger bronzerider's face back and sending a spray of blood flying. Instead of reacting defensively, K'del raises his eyebrows, eyeing H'vier: a challenge. Does he really want to do this?

Does he really want to do this? Hell, yes, he does. H'vier has been wanting to do this for turns. And so, when K'del doesn't put up much in the way of a defense, H'vier hits him again with a furious, wordless yell. And again. And he pulls back for another, but for some reason he stops before it can go further, fist tight, breath heavy, face contorted into an ugly sort of rage. H'vier doesn't want to stop. This isn't his decision. This is an intervention.

After the second punch, K'del's fists are drawn, and he attempts to dodge - but fails; exhaustion has really done a number on him, apparently. When H'vier's fists pauses, though, after that? The Weyrleader must be running on pure adrenaline at this point, when he throws his body weight at the other bronzerider, one part punch and one part body-blow. Intervention or no intervention, this isn't ending completely one-sided.

H'vier should probably be expecting that, but the way he moves suggests that he, for whatever reason, wasn't. Maybe he just thinks that little of K'del's masculinity! More likely his dragon is distracting him. Water isn't the easiest thing to keep one's balance in, either, so it's probably no surprise when he falls back and his cursing of the Weyrleader he's trying to push off of himself is drowned out by his head going underwater.

K'del could try and hold H'vier's head under water, and maybe everyone would be better off if he did (though that's arguable), but he refrains, aiming his knee for the other bronzerider's crotch before he tries to battle himself free of water and flailing limbs. No doubt they've attracted an audience, by now. No doubt rumour of this particular engagement will be around the Weyr within minutes.

If nothing else, a crotch shot has H'vier sucking in more water than is generally advisable before he can get his legs fully under himself again. And it gives K'del ample opportunity to get free of the bronzerider who's mostly just flailing into an instinctive sort of fetal position at this point as he tries to find the edge of the pool again. "Stay the fuck away from Tayte," he manages to cough out around the water he inhaled.

K'del spits a mouthful of blood into the water as he rights himself, wading backwards as quickly as he can given the drag and pull of the water. "No," he says, voice muffled by loose teeth, blood, and rapid swelling. "You need to stay the fuck away from her. Because if you hurt her again..." It may well be an empty threat. That's not really the point, right now. Right now? He's reclaiming his washcloth to hold it to his face as he tries to climb out of the pool.

Once H'vier finds the edge of the pool, he leans there, elbows bent, hands shifting over his hair, trying to breathe normally. He might even realize he's fucked something up, but it's probably not K'del, even if it should be, that he's worried about right now. All he sends after the Weyrleader is a bitter, "Fuck you," which makes it difficult to tell whether he takes the other man's threat seriously or not.

"Oh no," says K'del, as he wraps a towel around his waist, one-handed, while the other tries to hold that washcloth to his bleeding mouth. It makes him difficult to understand, but not impossible. "No, I don't think so." It's not, perhaps, the best come back ever... but it's all he's got. Except, perhaps, the ability to now simply walk away.

H'vier lifts his gaze in K'del's direction, the fury in his expression only subdued by the pain of retaliation and the dragon in his head. There's no motion to try following the other man as the Weyrleader walks away, though, and he ignores all the eyes that were drawn by the escalation, the ones that will probably linger when he finally sits back down to do what he came here to do in the first place.