Logs:Sink or Soak
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| RL Date: 14 May, 2013 |
| Who: I'zech, Telavi |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: The evening after the Ysavaeth reveal, I'zech and Telavi sulk... soak in the hot springs. Solith's a wannabe shipfish, but Rojeth gets to play crocodile! |
| Where: Hot Springs, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: E'sren/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions |
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| With all the tumult across High Reaches, surely the skies should be clouded over if not actually thundering, even though it's the next day. Or, rather, the next evening, gibbous Belior large enough that it might seem like just one moon shines in the skies, and if it's not thundering then there probably wasn't any lightning... which is good for a greenrider sulking out sore muscles by soaking in a big warm pool of lightning-friendly water. Maybe she had company earlier, but just now there's just Solith, soaking just out where the tip of her tail can play occasionally against Telavi's toes. Tela doesn't even twitch it away too many times. It's that time of night when questionable bronzeriders are usually on their way out of the Weyr to do whatever kind of nefarious things leaves them looking ridden hard and put away wet in the morning. Which usually had an unsavory contotation enough, but here might border on inappropriately accurate. Anyway, instead, when so many riders are taking a little extra time away from the stone walls full of betrayal and dischord, it's only to the hot springs that Rojeth and I'zech head, the dark bronze nearly silent and invisible in the sky, though his mental presence, like an inexplicable drop in temperature, should alert the lounging Solith to his arrival. He lands on the edge of the springs with a crunch of gravel and a flex of talons, his unfortunate teeth and pale eyes catching the moonlight as he watches the girls. He waits only long enough for I'zech to dismount before he prowls into the water and ducks beneath the dark surface to disappear again. His rider is left to start shucking off his clothes, apparently ignoring Telavi since he says nothing and just looks up at the sky rather than at her. He knows she's there, though. Thanks, Rojeth. At least the water can handle the wet part? Solith looks up well before Rojeth lands, her eyes unlidded in the relative darkness and whirling ever more swiftly when the cold hits. Not that she clues in her rider by anything more than that, it seems, because when there's that crunch then Tela sits up all startled with a, "Who?!" Her hair's still braided but at least unpinned, hanging heavy and dark over her shoulders. Now Solith must be helpful, certainly the sense of air-in-motion takes on a curling, pleased-with-herself flutter, because Tela recedes. "Never mind." It's more of a mutter than anything. Thanks, Solith. "Just me," answers the disrobing I'zech, boots and clothes left in a pile so he can make his way to the water, an audible sigh of breath following that first moment of swirling heat. It's steamy on the surface and he blows aimlessly at some little swirl of vapor. He moves toward Telavi, but leaves them both plenty of room. "How are you guys doing?" It's not a deep, meaningful question, the way he says it, though maybe the setting offers an opening. Somewhere out in the water, Rojeth's head barely emerges, eyes and nostrils breaching the surface and his exhale coming with a little spray of water. Basically he's a crocodile. With headknobs. Tela's been keeping an eye on things, because why not, and she relaxes enough to flick a few fingertips' worth of water at him a moment after he's stopped. There's that much space, after all. "Not so great," she says, while still-little Solith appears to think this is a jolly game, for she takes a big mouthful and spits it out on purpose. Not at the 'crocodile,' either, but rather where she can then leap partway out of the water as though the spray were a fish she's now plunging after. If only she had grey hide, and a spout! It's a good thing Tela doesn't always embarrass easily, or has developed a stronger hide of her own, or at least the capacity to ignore. Or mostly ignore, because she does peek out of the corner of her eyes at least once. "Next thing you know, somebody's going to come down with some plague or other, and someone else will poison the water, and someone else will steal all the stores and I'll never get my couch. -Es." "Do you think it matters much?" I'zech says, giving himself a quick dunk, shaking his head once, hard, afterwards to send his hair back into a spiky mess as he rubs the water from his eyes. "Think it's going to change your life any? Drill, rinse, repeat? Plague would be annoying, though," he has to admit. And if there's any reason for Telavi to be embarrassed by the little green and her joyful plunging, I'zech doesn't seem to think anything of it. Nor Rojeth, who just slips silently back under the water, where he can glide beneath Solith and leave phantom currents swirling up at her before he surfaces again at the far edge. Beneath: if only Rojeth were a little higher! As it is, swimming Solith-paws can't quite reach before his spiny back is gone, and she submerges again to follow as though he were the fish grown large and very much in need of stalking. Tela supposes, "The poison wouldn't be so great either, unless maybe it were the kind that gets you in your sleep, but I've heard stories..." She cuts herself off before speaking too much of Ysavaeth's weyrwoman. "Never mind," that either. "At least people are talking about something else instead of Quie." Even if she did just bring the girl's name up herself, it's not like I'zech doesn't know. "Well, it would suck for the people who figure it out. But then the rest of us will just go drink our water somewhere else." Simple Solutions, by I'zech. Meanwhile, it's not like anyone doesn't know about the knocked up weyrling, and so the bronzerider just snorts. "The cautionary tale," he slings out, heedless of Telavi's friendship with her. "And now the other two are shacking up. Hopefully they'll keep themselves out of that particular trouble. Everyone makes their choices." So concerned, so sensitive. And off on the far side of the spring, Rojeth sits in the distant shallows, watching the dark water calmy for the stalking shape of Solith. "Where by 'water' you really mean 'beer,'" but Telavi stops talking as he continues, low-lashed for a moment or two before she subsides and looks over towards the other side of the pool. Because it's there. Because the dragons are there, or getting there. But as long as he's here, "What else is that going to mean for her? No betweening anytime soon, I suppose, but what can she do for drills? This didn't happen in your class... did it?" His and Jo's class. And then Solith pounces, only it's not really so much pounce as 'blow a great big plume of bubbles at Rojeth's feet' just as soon as she gets close. I'zech lifts a dripping hand to salute her for beer, yes he does. But all this talk of lady-trouble -- that's what it is, isn't it? -- still isn't his strong suit and he lets out a grumbling breath. "No, didn't happen in my class. You'd think it would happen more often, what with the lot of you all smashed together, all full of feelings and fears." Fear. It makes him smirk to himself. "Weyrlinghood. One big scary story with a mixed audience full of hormones and communal baths." Which dovetails quite nicely into his question: "You worried?" Somewhere under the water, Rojeth's talon dig into the rocks, but if he's ticklish, there's little outward sign of it. His twisted swamp trees creak ominously at Solith. Fear. It makes her roll her eyes, even if that doesn't last long what with them narrowing and all. Tela keeps it mostly out of her voice, though. "About what?" It's not a challenge, it's just fishing! Solith sighs at her fish with all but the last of her bubbles, and then her jaws open and she starts to lean... but there's that creak. Sigh. She stops trying to stay below water and just lets herself float upward to the surface... where at least she can breathe, so that's something. "About getting knocked up. Fretting over Quielle, what happens to pregnant weyrlings..." I'zech makes his deductions. "You aren't now, at least." Well, unlikely so, given that time he visited her weyr and all. When Solith resurfaces, Rojeth's pale eyes are staring at her, his head tipped low, at least, so that she doesn't get a full view of all those jagged teeth. He starts to sink down in the shallows, settling himself against the bottom, watching her all the while. I'zech's eyes are cast in that direction, too, a thoughtful twist on his mouth. Tela's is a short laugh. "No. I know better than that." After a moment she glances towards the man, only to follow his own gaze to Solith, who's peeked back in time to have her interest piqued, because now she's watching too. Slowly the little green takes a great big breath, only that helps her natural buoyancy. She has to let it go before she can try sinking, too. Like this? "Says the girl I found naked on top of a horny boy." So, that's how much Telavi knows. Like well-time choreography, it's when the greenrider looks off toward the dragons that I'zech looks back at her, a faint scowl forming, furrowing at his brow. Rojeth has been watching Solith bobs at the surface and then sink again, but simultaneously bronze and rider let out a grumbling exhale. This time, Telavi saves them both the it-wasn't-like-that, for all that it wasn't. Quite. Instead, "You remember that, do you," putting all sorts of questionable-and-nefarious implications into her voice. She's smiling, a little, and it's not a line she wants to step on. Perhaps Solith is only asking, « What? » for herself. Rojeth is not explaining himself to the young green. It's none of her concern. Instead, he just pulls himself back to his feet and throws his heavy wings wide, not quite meaning to spray her with their flying sheets of water, but perhaps not taking too much care where he aims. Maybe he's just stretching, or maybe his attention is largely on the other end of the pool, where I'zech arches a brow at Telavi, a warning in his eye as his gaze holds on her for a silent moment. "Sure," he says. "What do you remember?" The problem is that all that flying water just isn't a deterrent to a young dragon who'd so frequently tossed herself into the midst of the waterfall, and who now lets herself be mollified at the lack of reply as though Rojeth had done that 'I have big wings' splattering just for her. Or maybe she's just that easily distracted. Tela, not in a mood to be so easily warned, "What do you want me to remember?" Only this time, it's in the tones of a very good little weyrling. It might be Solith's delight that tips Rojeth's head, as if he's just now noticed something about her, and it's caught him off guard. It also means a beat's break in whatever dialog passes between him and I'zech, whose tongue is poking at his teeth as he mulls Telavi's words. Or maybe as he ignores them in favor of other thoughts. But though appears, for a second, like he's going to answer her. Instead, he just cracks a wicked smile. "What do you think you're doing? You think you're fucking with me?" Off guard is good, even Solith knows that. But stopping? She warbles, rebalances to her hind paws so more of her is above the waterline, and splashes out her wings that are all of a third the breadth of Rojeth's with her head tipped up towards his. Telavi might look for a moment like she wants to cover her eyes, but instead she says, just as sweetly as before, "I wouldn't dream of it... sir." Except then she really has to close her eyes, and mutter not quite under her breath, "She is going to grow up someday, isn't she," like she'd better. Tomorrow maybe. Rojeth lets out a low hiss -- appreciative perhaps? Or maybe not, with the way his tailed swishes in the water and his wings start to draw back in, swirling through currents as they hang heavily. He looks across the spring again, back to the riders, with a quiet rocky rumble. It draws I'zech's eye, a glare, and then a dark smirk. And he slips through the hot water and steam toward Telavi, with her obedient 'no, sir' and her muttering. "Maybe not," he says, amused by the way that will no doubt be a source of stress. He settles in beside her, facing off toward the dragons and the antic of the youthful little green. His arms move through the water in front of him, long, slow crosses rippling the surface. It's the movement of the water that warns her first, and then his voice. Not, clearly, Solith, though when Telavi does reopen her eyes to look at her dragon, who has not hissed and does not rumble but rather pushes cheerfully off to glide at an angle across the big pool, it's not with any visible sense of betrayal. She mustn't have expected to learn anything from the green at all, but really, does she ever? Her gaze drifts over the motions of the assistant weyrlingmaster's arms, over the ink that loses its color in the moonlight. She doesn't ask if any of it hurt. With his arms floating out, I'zech flexes his hands, tightening fists and then stretching fingers, a few repetitions barely visible in the dimness but for the morphing pale shapes beneath the water and the tensing up along is tatted arms. "Why does it bug you?" he asks, a faint tip of his head toward the dragons, the smirk still lingering, but subdued now. Rojeth gives a roll of his shoulders, making the spikes of his ridges stand at high attention, and then he slinks off into the water again, not following Solith, but surely aware of her gliding in the other direction. Solith floats, moving. Tela sits, sunk, stationary. She watches Rojeth now, not his rider, not her green, though she also may not see him at all. "It's hard to articulate," she finally says, only she enunciates it by way of drawing attention to it, ar-tic-u-late, one of those words that's been made to come much more easily to her lips. Quielle's, too, though she's not here now. No, Quielle is not here right now. Or is she? The way she seems to weigh on Telavi's thoughts. I'zech looks aside at her, though hard to tell where, exactly, in the dark. "Is it? You think everyone looks at her and knows something about you. And then you feel like shit that you aren't one of those chest-bustingly proud weyrlings whose all 'look at my perfect dragon' all the time. Then she probably says something nice about you and you feel even shittier, because you're annoyed that she's so nice when you're being an asshole." Accurate? He doesn't seem to care. He just gives a shrug. But if she watches Rojeth, there's little to observe other than the bronze making himself comfortable in the deeper water, his wings half-relaxes so that the joints poke out over the surface like a shipwreck. Does the dark hide her rising, uncomfortable flush? Unpretty, it blotches her skin in pinpricks like nettles. "I stand corrected," says the weyrling briefly, never mind that she's sitting. Solith's slipped beneath the water, and it's possible the green thinks she's all sneaky and invisible, but the tip of her tail is poking out over the surface like a periscope and flagging her every move. Like there's something to find, like he'd possibly give it up, "What did you make of Rojeth, when you were new?" The dark probably does save Telavi from showing her blush, though maybe there's some other hints of tension that I'zech could pick up on, if he were watching closely enough. Which he might not be, since he's blowing fruitlessly at the steam again. "Does she? Say something about you? Or is that just what you ask yourself all the time?" He lets his hands sink beneath the water, disappearing with more success than Solith. Rojeth keeps a casual eye on that poking tail, and it's with stealthy care that he starts to move again, keeping the periscope at a distance. What did I'zech think of him? Back in the day? Now he lets out a swallowed laugh. "Fucking bronze. Like a golden ticket." It's mixed, the way the words are laced with both pride and resignation. After all, look where that ticket got him. She doesn't answer, not at first. Of course, she's also tracking the periscope as it sculls along, no direct path now but a series of back and forth curves that are about to loop back upon themselves, bubbles rising now and again through the water to break open to steam and sky. 'Look where you are now.' What she says instead is, "No pressure, right?" Also, in much the same tone but flatter, "Not all the time. Not even most." "So what is it then?" I'zech wonders, arms shifting behind him so he can lean back on their prop and tip his gaze upward through the steam to the clear skies above. Amazing, really, how the weather has insisted on being so nice when the Weyr is all in turmoil. He stretches and settles. And off across the water, Rojeth snorts. At least he doesn't have to worry about giving away his position to the submerged green, since it seems to be his rider that the bronze is remarking on. He's still keeping an eye, though, on that tail and all the little bubbles. Instead, Tela reverts to what had been the topic of the sevenday before that turmoil and before, even, N'gan. "What's the worst thing a greenrider ever did to you, around a flight?" She smiles, looking at him, a bright wide smile that makes her blush recede. "In the interest of its not happening again, of course." Solith's tail disappears beneath the water, and it could be ominous... but for how her muzzle pops right back up to breathe, shedding water every which way. "You mean, like, before or after? Or do you mean during?" He turns his head to look at her properly now, look over her, even though she's mostly shielded by water and there isn't much to see. "I don't recall being disappointed during, honestly. Though this one girl was a little heavy and I fucked something in my back trying to keep her bent up the way I wanted her." His mouth twists again, brows lowered as he stares, for all appearances, at Telavi's shoulder. "Is that what you worry about? Doing something awful? Or do you just like the idea that someone's been awful to me?" The cool smile that forms is dark as he meets her gaze. One of Rojeth's wings lifts out of the water, only to sink down again. It seems unrelated to anything. Telavi's, "After," is decisive. It isn't undercut by the doubtfulness of, "I suppose before too, if it's any good." At being awful. She keeps it that way, not much to see, except for her hint of a smirk as she plays with the end of one of her braids. There isn't even a noteworthy mark on her shoulder, no tattoo, hickey or bruise, just muscle more developed beneath that smooth skin than the seamstress's had ever been. "Sounds more like you let yourself go soft, to me... if you couldn't hold her up. I'm not worried." Her eyes are dark too, amused. "It's sort of like 'Fall stories, minus the blood and missing limbs." Maybe she should be worried. But then, it's Solith, floating-again Solith. "Didn't say I couldn't," I'zech corrects her. "Just said I pulled something." He flashes teeth with his smile. But he'll give it to her anyway. "That's me, soft as custard. That's what they all say." She can sit there all coy, twiddling with her hair and that sly smirk, the bronzerider lets out a weary puff of breath as he glances back toward Solith. "Sometimes there's some harping afterwards. They get the hint eventually." That he doesn't care. He will admit, "Not crazy about the guys generally, but whatever. You have a drink and move on with your life." Somewhere beneath the water, he swooshes a knee side to side, eddies swirling to the surface. Rojeth just watches all of them, still as a craggy stone. "Close enough," Telavi says with, yes, a flick of her braid. One slow-whirling Solith-eye focuses in his direction at the glance, something harder for the uninitiated to discern what with facets' lack of pupil, but then they haven't been that for a long time. Tela doesn't look away from him, though her demeanor's still laid-back, relaxed, right down to the slow and even half-respectful nod for drink and move on. She almost smiles. "Maybe they thought they got a special ticket of their own, somehow. At least harping's easy to walk out on... well, if they aren't sitting on your clothes," doesn't take a flight to learn that. But speaking of moving on, and clothes, she half-turns away as she begins to push herself up, scanning the bank for her own. « You keep watching, » Solith meanwhile observes. "I guess," he says of the unfortunately pinned clothes. "If you really loved that shirt." As in, otherwise he'd probably just stroll on home in the buff if he had to. Comfortable in his own skin. But as Telavi stands, it's her skin that I'zech watches, blantant, obvious, letting the his eyes move along the full reveal of her pushing herself from the water. When his perusal is through, he lifts a cocked brow at her and runs his tongue across his teeth. Suggestive? Yes. But without a smile. Solith's observations might become a little obscured by steam, but it's only Rojeth's fog rolling in, shadows turning into the shape of his swamp, a space between the twisted trees opening like a path. "This one," Tela says lightly, "I kind of do." Having turned away like that, it's a perusal that she misses as she steps out, at least with her eyes. Nor does she blush, but for what the heated water had already done to her, right up to the waterline as high as a low-cut dress with gloves to match. Does Solith see? Perhaps, though she's floating as though that way she could float right down that swampy path. Does Rojeth see? The girl doesn't seem to care as she walks those few steps away and disappears into the shadows. After a little while of silence followed by nearly as quiet rustling, her voice floats out, disembodied. "Anything else you think I should keep in mind, I'zech? As a bronze's rider? Before, you know, we go and wreak havoc upon the world." Not that, for that particular brand of havoc, it won't take months... but it's not like she's restricted to one. "I don't think you'll be wreaking any havoc," I'zech calls back with some confidence, letting himself sink backward until his head is rewetted by the warm water. When it lifts again, he runs a hand over top to throw the wrecked spikes through his dripping hair. Almost as easily as the fog brought a phantom swamp, it starts to disappear again, the path collapsing before Solith can float too far along it, though there's nothing of refusal in Rojeth's retreating touch. It's just dissolving because it happens to. "Is that what they said to you?" Her voice isn't quite laughing, but there's low music there, soon followed by the quiet sound of footsteps departing. The smaller clearing isn't far, after all, and Tela can take the shortcut while Solith must take the broader path. Not that Solith does, or not immediately... not so much troubled by the fog's dissolution, as content for that little while longer to drift.
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