Difference between revisions of "Logs:Grown Up Behavior"

>---< 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.

Dinner time is a quiet time in the bathing caverns with many people happily engaged in stuffing their faces. It's probably half the reason that Lycinea can be found in one of the more private curves of one of the pools, submerged to her neck, eyes closed and enjoying the apparent solitude and heat of the baths. Wet hair hangs loosely, not all her braids undone yet which hints at it still being early in her bathing process. The smudges still marring her neck hint at a dirty task earlier in the day and probably account for the other half of her reason for being here just now. The steam in the air has made the lines of khol setting off her blue-green eyes hazy and soft, though the effect is lost until those eyes open and she starts to stretch her arms up overhead to ease tight muscles.

For all that H'vier is... H'vier, he tends to prefer quieter times in the bathing caverns, so it can't be very surprising that he shows up. His thoughts must be very internalized. He takes note of where bodies are but more detail than that isn't bothered with as he pauses near a bench not far from Lycinea's chosen pool and starts to methodically remove his clothes.

He might go wholly unnoticed except that after stretching, Lycinea turns around to reach for the bottle of oil on the ledge, next to the soapsand. She pauses in reaching when she catches sight of the man. It's a measured moment later when she greets, "Havi," and completes her reach for the bottle to pour some into her hands and begin to massage the stuff into her scalp, the slightest scent of sandalwood in the air.

H'vier's head turns reflexively toward the sound of his name. Not just his name, even, but the sound of a name only some people use for him. His brows furrow. "Lya," he returns the greeting, but there's the slight inflection of a question at the end. "I didn't know you were-- Are you back at the Weyr?" Back has a certain meaningfulness. Is she staying?

"Mm," is a sound of confirmation as Lya works through her hair. "Until the Weyr crumbles around me," has dry humor, though some might not find that funny. "At least now I'm more conveniently located if you should like to keep me at arm's length." This too has humor as her fingers start working swiftly though the remaining braids, undoing them carefully. "I only got back recently. It took time for word of Niahvth's flight to get to me where I was."

The bronzerider says nothing, watching the girl like he's not sure what he thinks about her being here. Finally, there's at least some rumble of acknowledgment, gaze falling slightly to her shoulder, lingering for several moments, before he returns to disrobing. After he's bare, H'vier comes to the side of her pool. "Do you mind if I join you?" is perhaps an uncharacteristic sort of question.

By the time he's done disrobing, Lya's finished with her braids and dips beneath the water in the moments before he arrives by the edge of the pool. Smoothing water off her face, she makes simple answer, "No," she doesn't, but she also isn't looking at anything other than his face. It's not darting nervousness but rather steady, consideration. Then she reaches for the sand, shifting her hands to wet it and then work up a lather between them. "Are you well?" The tone is casual, the way her eyes search his face... not so much even if there's still an unreadability to her feelings beneath the presented surface.

His response to her answer is getting into the pool, and he doesn't waste time getting into his typical bathing ritual. Wetting hair, then getting enough soapsand in his hands so he can scrub through it. "I'm fine," would be his answer regardless of how he is in actuality, more than likely. "You?" He isn't paying her much attention. Not the sort that might be expected of him, anyway.

"Adjusting. It's strange to sleep under rock again," Lya answers candidly to all appearances taking soap to her own hair. "It didn't take long for me to hear about you and Lilah." This is Lycinea pinning him with a long look, but she doesn't ask, yet.

"I imagine Irianke would let you sleep on her ledge," says H'vier, sounding much more serious than he probably is. Probably. At least he's not offering his ledge. The rest earns a glance toward the young blonde and a slightly more tense, "There is no me and Lilah."

"She might, but with Lythronath taking to it at all hours," the leaders' ledge if not specifically Niahvth's bit of it, "I'd rather not take the chance of becoming talonjam." Lya wrinkles her nose at the thought before shifting the coupe steps it takes to lift a hand to touch his arm. She doesn't say anything, but she does give him a long look. It might be some measure of understanding. Then her hand drops away and she shifts back a step to keep on with her hair. "How is Iceberg?"

The bronzerider has no comment for what she says, but he stills when she touches his arm, jaw clenching, muscle flexing with tension. He doesn't look at Lycinea until she's moving away again. "Fine," he repeats the answer he'd used for himself, somewhat more curtly this time. He must not be in a sharing sort of mood. "Since when do you care about my wing?"

"Since you decided you didn't want me caring about anything more personal," Lycinea quips back to the bronzerider, some familiar Lyatude there for him. "It limits our conversational topics. I could ask you if you've had any good booze lately or been to any good gathers if you'd rather, but your wing seems much more relevant to the both of us given where we live and what we do for our livings." Tart with an edge of temper but an odd mix of dry humor in the remarks as she finishes sudsing up her hair and holds up a finger to indicate he should hold his remarks until she's ducked under the water to sluice out the suds, which she does efficiently before surfacing again.

"There's nothing to care about, Lycinea." H'vier has never used her full name on a regular basis and there's some small measure of firmness in his voice when she resurfaces. "Have you returned to your duties as Irianke's assistant?" he asks without commenting further on Iceberg.

"If you say so, H'vier," Lycinea mimics his tone, expression briefly bordering on belligerent. She's changed, sure, but one might think on dragons not being able to change the color of their hides when they think of just how much the blonde might have changed. "For now," sees a return to a more usual tone as she shifts to collect more soapsand from the edge, rising out of the water to work at soaping her body. She keeps her back to H'vier, though it might just be happenstance since she'd had to turn to the ledge. That the water only comes to her hips where she's shifted to stand reveals one of Lycinea's most physical changes: a black tattoo against her tanned skin. It starts on her left shoulder with a relief of crumbling rock, one fragment of which is still hanging on by the tip of it's star shape. Tumbling away from the rock are other stars, drawing down in size from an inch and a half to an inch as the gentle 's' of the starfall's curve reaches the sweet spot on her low back just above her hips where the last star has less seeming of a true star and more the seeming of a compass rose.

"Then you don't need to know anything about my wing." Because some part of H'vier is no doubt a paranoid sort of person and he has little reason to trust the blonde now that she's back. He rinses out his hair before his gaze turns to focus on Lycinea's back, tracking the tattoo for several moments before he asks her as though he has any right to an answer, "How many men have you let have their way with you since you've been gone?"

"So if I end up with another job, then I can know things about your wing?" Lya might be squinting as if to parse logic from whatever paranoia H'vier might have, but it's impossible to tell with her back turned; her tone, however, is dubious. It might seem like she's not going to answer him with the meticulous way she's working suds down her arms and then across her neck and the tops of her faintly tense shoulders. "None, not that that's any of your business. Leaving and staying gone was never about a boy."

H'vier doesn't bother offering more commentary on his wing. "I didn't say it was about a boy. That doesn't mean you haven't been spreading your legs for every handsome trader you've crossed paths with. Though I suppose there can't be too many of them." He continues with his own bathing, not nearly as meticulous as she's being. He might even seem rushed if he were moving any faster. "This has been delightful," he starts to say as he rises to his feet, turning toward the edge of the pool. "I've missed our little chats, Lya." Never mind that he sounds more sarcastic than not.

"I know," isn't sarcastic at all. It's in the tone of knowing that might make a man wonder just how transparent he is. "Next time, you can pull my hair and throw mud at me to make sure I know you don't like me, and I'll tell you again how I'm not interested in kissing games." If it's a joke, the tone of the humor has gone from wry to sardonic. Lycinea doesn't miss a beat with her bathing process, eyes never straying to him as he moves to the edge of the pool.

He glances back at her, but his expression is difficult to read, neutral but weary. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lycinea," says H'vier before he's out of the pool and picking up his clothes so he can put them on somewhere further away from her.