Logs:Familiar Faces
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| RL Date: 20 May, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, R'co |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Familiar faces from Ista are found on 'Reaches soil. |
| Where: Inner Caverns and Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Very back-dated! Played over gdocs. |
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| Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night. The largest tunnels lead to the main living cavern, to the bowl and to the Weyr entrance, but it's still easy for the uninitiated to get lost within this maze.
Ah, the bathes. The great equalizer. Except for those few who have private spaces of their own, everyone eventually makes their way through the Inner Caverns to the bathes. And so it is that two former Istans cross paths. Tayte, too, is dressed down for her usual fashionable and coiffed looks. She wears simple blue linen pants and a matching linen shirt with a slight vee to the high collar that flops over and darts at the neck. Over that, she's wearing a long knit sweater that buttons up the front (now open). In all that color, she's hard to miss. She holds a little tote of bathing supplies before her in both hands. Her eyes dance across the items instead of the path ahead which brings her stepping right into R'co's path as she makes for the entry he just exited. Straight into his path, indeed! R'co looks up at the woman, not quite registering what he's seeing - it's a familiar face in an unexpected location, and it confuses him for a moment. He blinks, running light blue eyes the length of her figure before settling back up on her face, and grins - a huge, toothy grin that stretches the silvery scar on his chin, a reminder of a bar brawl Tayte may have been present for. "Dah-ling!" There's no holding back the joyous squee as he throws himself forward with arms wrapping around the taller woman, lips planting a kiss first on one cheek, then the other. "Tayte.Darling. What in Faranth's name are you doing here?" He steps back, but doesn't entirely let go, keeping his hands in a light squeeze on her upper arms. It's nearly as much of a surprise to Tayte that this particular brownrider she nearly bowls into, The only advantage she had was knowing he was here somewhere. She releases her grip on her tote with one hand so that it does get awkwardly caught between them as she's greeted enthusiastically. Just who it is registers quickly enough and so the air receives kisses to either side of his cheek as her own are pecked, and her free arm reaches to return the hug lightly, dropping away when his linger. "Getting ready to take a bath," She teases lightly, using the obvious answer instead of the answer he'd likely been angling for. Her smile is warm for the familiar face. "In the grandest sense, following the path my life leads me on. In a less grand sense: I got transferred here. Like you." Not exactly like him, of course. She has no dragon to be involved in the decision. "I just arrived a couple sevendays ago. I've been trying to get my head on straight and learn my way around so I didn't get lost when I looked you up. Ocean's blue gaze slides across his face, and she reaches up a hand to pinch at his cheek lightly. "You're pale," She accuses, much in the manner of an auntie. He's not exactly, most likely, but certainly not as readily tanned as Ista has a way of making people. "But you look well otherwise. Are you?" The question is direct, as she always is when there's something she genuinely wants to know. "A couple of sevendays ago?" R'co seems scandalised by this information, jaw dropped and eyes accusingly wide. "And you didn't find me? I didn't see you? Tayte, darling, I'm hurt." He sniffs, tilting his chin up and looking away, down the corridor to some distant point that becomes the concentration of his faux-woes. The cheek-pinch has him looking back quick-like, lips pursed and head shaking. "You know that causes wrinkles!" He bats at her hand, then captures it to lace his fingers through hers, squeezing tight. "I'm going back to my more natural colour, darling. Bronze is pretty, but I'm a High Reaches weyrbrat. I ought to be pale as snow, don'tcha know." One last squeeze, and he lets go of her hand. "I'll come bathe with you if you want, darling? I can always have one more bath. And I can tell you all about how awful my time here's been so far, and how delicious one of the goldriders are... Deveriteauxth will, of course, be chasing her dragon when she rises. She's such a peach." There's a dismissive roll of Tayte's eyes for the brownrider's dramatic air of scandal. "Now, Roc," The former bartender purses her lips, reaching that same offending hand back up to pat his cheek now. "You know I had me and mine to look after and settle in. You were the top of my list for just as soon as I stopped getting lost." A woman needs to settle herself in a little before announcing her presence to old acquaintances. They were always that, though perhaps a little more. Fringe friends due to their frequency of run-ins at the bar and for her use of his services. There's a smile for the complaint over wrinkles, "Glad to see this place's not changed you so much." There's a smile for that. The pat manages to sneak in before her hand is caught and she gives him a little squeeze of the fingers before snaking her hand back out of his grasp to return to her tote, holding it now in front of her thighs. "Well, I hope I don't end up ghostly pale as some I've seen around," But being of Igen descent, it's unlikely that she'll lose much of her bronze. "Come if you like, you can soap my hair." She accepts the offer, "And I've a kink in my shoulder that could use some work. And like always, I'll listen." That's been the usual exchange (occasionally involving free drinks or marks). With that she'll lead the way into the bathes. R'co will follow, shameless about stripping off his clothing to drop down into the bath of Tayte's choosing. "Here's home for me, darling. It's not been home for turns and turns, but it does feel awfully good to be back... even if I did get lumped with the shittiest weyr. You should have seen it when I moved in - eurgh. Honestly. I wanted to have Deveriteauxth flame it all to get rid of the crawlies and the webs and the dust." His bathing bag is pulled to the edge of the pool, a couple of little pots pulled out. "Duck down, darling, get your hair wet for me? I'll wash it, put this cream in and leave it, while I work your shoulder? And first, I want you to tell me why here for you." Though nurtured in a Hold and then a Crafthold, three turns in a Weyr where she felt right at home cured Tayte of the self-conscious notions notorious of those environs. She stops at the cubbies to slip off her sandals and clothes before grabbing up a towel and her tote and moving over to the bathes. She slips in without hesitation, her tote and towel positioned near the edge. There's a laugh for R'co as he speaks of his weyr. "So coming home again the pickings are slim, hm? Is it at least of a decent size to fix up?" She queries. "And you know, there's no weyr too ugly for a pair of tumbler-goggles." Classier than beer goggles. She offers a slight amused smirk to the man at the thought of the effects of the focus of her chosen Craft. She slides over near the brownrider, not overly close but close enough that he can ply his craft. She disappears beneath the water at his behest and smooths her hair out of her face when she resurfaces. "Oh, I'm not really sure there's so much to tell on my end. It was about time for a change, and the craft chose here for me. I think it might've been a bit of a joke, since the bar isn't owned by the Weyr, so I'll have to find my own foot in the door to bartend there." Not like she hasn't done similar before when it's necessary. "Tell me more about this goldrider? And anyone else in particular I ought to be aware of?" R'co would know from their many talks that Tayte always likes to be in the know about such things (what's the point of bartending if you're not!) and with no ready conduit, she's likely starved for news and meandering about the area blind. Washing Tayte's hair is something that clearly comes routinely to R'co; he's perfectly at ease working gently through it, finishing up with a head massage. Not only is it routine, but he's good at it. "Change is always a good thing." He pauses a moment, fingertips pressed against her scalp. "Darling, listen, I've... I've not been so open about why I came back. Don't tell anyone, will you? It's not something I'm ready to talk about yet." Because it still hurts, as the tone of his voice suggests. He taps her shoulder to have her duck underwater, then starts slathering a layer of a thick, creamy lotion onto her hair. This he works in even more thoroughly. "The goldrider? Azyalia. Hreadhyth's. She's such a sweetheart. We had tea - she likes meeting over tea - and she listened to all of my dirty past... and even asked me about some of it. She's delightful, and I want to fuck her." He laughs, leaning in against Tayte's back to whisper over her shoulder, "I think she might be quite the wild feline in bed. Though I'm sure she was shocked when I told her about the women I've been with. I'm sure she thought I was gay." Tayte seems comfortable, relaxing into his attentions. It's already been well-established by her closed-leg policy in the turns after Yvalia was born that this is all on the up and up, so there's no reason for her to do anything but enjoy his professional abilities. "Oh, you know me, Roc," She replies easily, "Secrets come in and never find their way out again." No one likes a loose-lipped barkeep. She ducks under the water then to sloosh off the suds. Besides, she obviously doesn't want to share why she's transferred with the world, why should his need be any more public? "She does, does she?" There's some small, secret amusement on Tayte's face, though the way she tilts her head down to give him better access to some parts, it might well be missed. "She sounds sweet." Then she turns, slowly so as not to end up with conditioner in her eyes, and she directs a knowing smile at him. "Of course you do. Are you finding the 'Reaches women as pliable and willing as the Istans?" A Weyr is a Weyr, isn't it? Or is it? She doesn't bother to choke back the laugh, "Well, darling, you do have a tendency to come off a trifle confusing at times." No doubt, she might've thought something similar before they got to talking three turns before. "Confusing? Me? Never." R'co tuts, leaning forward and up on his tiptoes to bump the tip of his nose against the taller blonde's. He holds that for a second, then sinks back down, grinning. "I need to tie your hair up still, Taye-love; there's going to be some awfully close fun bits if you don't turn around again." Reaching for a clip from his bathing bag, he holds it out and leans in with every intent of doing what he needs to, whether she's facing him or not. "In all truth, darling, I've not hit home a single time since coming here. Deveriteauxth's flown every sharding green that's gone up, and we've been pipped to the post every single time. It's terrible. Even my dragon can't get me laid. I think I've lost my touch." He sighs, draping his arms over her shoulders and leaning in against her. "Find me someone yummy, darling? Boy or girl, I honestly couldn't care right now." The closeness of the nose bump has the woman tensing despite their long acquaintance. When he backs off, though, she's relaxing again. Tayte gives a tolerant roll of her eyes to his announcement. "Thanks for the warning," Her tone is teasing, but there's clear gratitude in her eyes before she turns. Her lips can't help an amused smile for the way he couches his story of woe. "Oh, surely not." She encourages with a smile. "Maybe things at 'Reaches just require a more delicate touch? A little less direct an approach? I'm finding things seem to be a little less-- forward here?" The draping causes a tenseness, not so much as the nose bump, but she's surely not relaxed due to the closeness of the contact. "I'm going to see about getting myself some shifts in Snowasis. With any luck, I'll have you rolling in whatever in no time." She always was a passable matchmaker. R'co doesn't react to Tayte's tension. Perhaps he doesn't even feel it? But he does withdraw after a few moments, to reach for his bathing bag once more. "More delicate, less direct. Faranth, anyone would think we're in a Hold." He rolls his eyes, though of course, with him being behind Tayte, she can't see it. "Which shoulder is it, darling, and what oil would you like? Relaxing, since it's nearly bedtime?" Whichever she chooses, he pulls it out from his bag, adding a couple of drops to his palms. Soon enough, the warmed oil releases its scents, and he settles his hands on her shoulder to first gently guide her into a comfortable position for them both. "Tell me how you want it, sweet. Hard? Soft? Somewhere in the middle?" "Tch." Tayte chides softly, teasing, "Don't say such things. Next thing you know, we'll be curtsying and bowing and so on. You know as well as I do that it's different strokes for different folks. Try for subtle, R'co. Maybe it'll serve you well. Couldn't hurt you any, could it?" Amusement is plain in her voice even though she's facing the wrong direction to have her face seen by the brownrider. "My right. Just next to my shoulder blade toward the bottom." She provides helpfully before making a little "hm, hm" considering sound. "Sure. Relaxing it is. You know me, the harder the better. I'd rather you cause me pain and have done with it than let something like that linger and just have to deal with it again later." There's definitely some playfulness to her doublespeak. Her preference for those brief months at Ista before she became with child left stories long after she closed her knees was that she always preferred one night stands. She wasn't the relationship type. "So what's all this about the leadership here? Both golds flown by browns and now a lot of ladies are in charge?" R'co's got a tch right back for Tayte's. "Subtle? Since when did I have the patience for subtle?" He shakes his head, applying pressure to the spot indicated, working fingers, thumbs and palms to loosen it up. As requested, he uses full force, which requires him to nudge Tayte chest-first against the side of the bath so he can work her harder. The effort of it even has him huffing once or twice, while certain movements are bound to cause pain - even if it's only brief. "It's so tight," he mutters, digging in with his thumb around the shoulder blade itself. "What've you been doing, darling?" And then oh, the leadership. He scoffs, shaking his head. "It's awful, isn't it? A Weyr without a single man in charge. I'm going to have Deveriteauxth chase whichever goes up first, you know. I'm hoping it'll be Hraedhyth, but we'll see, darling, won't we? Weyrleader R'co does have the most charming ring to it, don't you think?" "Well, they do say patience is a virtue. One that you might need to develop to get anywhere with people here. Maybe it's the weather that makes them less inclined to drop their pants at a moment's notice. I'm not sure I'm going to survive so much snow." Tayte's alto slides as she bemoans anticipation of her first 'Reaches winter. She moves without hesitation toward the wall. One hand snags her towel to lay it along the edge, giving her arms a softer place to brace. The process of getting the knot out is borne in silence. It's not that it doesn't hurt. It does, but the most vocal expression of it is a pair of hard exhales. "Moving," is her emphatic answer to R'co's question, as though that one word should explain all the tension she holds in her slender frame. "Terrible," She agrees of the leadership, only she sounds a touch too amused to be entirely serious. "Imagine, not having a single decision governed by a man." It's not hard to guess that her sympathies at least for 'that' reason are limited or non-existent. "Weyrleader R'co?" She echoes with a laugh, "I suppose. Though trading a brownrider for a brownrider? Just because you have wiggly bits between your thighs..." She lifts her head to turn it for a roll of her eyes that he can see. "There is nothing wrong with being a brownrider, or having a brownrider in charge, darling." Which can only mean that it's the fact that their current Acting Weyrleader is a woman is what's got his goat. "But politics are the absolute last thing we ought to be discussing now; relax, sweetheart, or you'll do yourself no good at all." While one hand remains working on her trouble spot, the other courses along her shoulder to gently massage the base of her neck, intending to soothe and induce calm. "Tell me, Tayte-love. If you could have picked anywhere on Pern to be posted, where would you be now?" "There's nothing wrong with being a woman or having a woman in charge, either." Tayte's turning then to walk her fingertips up R'co's chest, ending with a little tweak of his nose as she adds, "Next time you're rolling in the reeds, try letting the the lady take the reins. You might just like it," All playful flirtation with, as he must know by now, no real intent behind it despite the saucy smile she serves him. Then she's flipping back around, quick as can be, all the better for him to get back to solving her muscular woes. "Mmm..." She considers the question carefully, "Maybe southern somewhere. Too much history at all the delightfully hot places up north. Though I've never been to Southern Boll and I hear the beaches are fine there." The freckles on her nose fold together along with the skin there, and the expression can be heard in the distaste in her voice, "But then I'd have to deal with all that Hold nonsense. Here's as good a place as any I suppose. Even with the snow." She sighs lightly. "What about you? Has coming home been everything you hoped it would be? The cobwebs on your bed not withstanding, of course." The tweak makes R'co's nose twitch, and he pulls a face at Tayte. "Who's to say I don't already let the lady take the reins? We never got there, darling... not that the offer's not there." He leans teasingly toward her, kissing the air between them before pulling back. When she turns back around, he continues his work. "Tayte-love, you and I will go to Southern Boll as soon as I have a free day to spare. I'm about due a visit there for some supplies, actually, if you'd mind me tying in a little business with the absolute pleasure of your company? We'll explore the beaches and hike the forests." He curls his fingers loosely around her arm to reposition it along the bath's edge, giving him a new angle to work on with her shoulder blade. "Being home's been far less glorious than I'd expected, darling, but honestly? Even with everything here, I'm just... I'm happy to be away." From Ista, and the things he left there. "Well, if you do, and you're still objecting to a woman in charge, you clearly haven't had the right horizontal dance partner, dear." The endearment is tossed off casually, having little meaning, much like the frequent 'darling's of the brownrider. The casual pass made is met with much the same demuring smile that is usual from the vintner. "Don't worry, Roc, just let me get a gig in Snowasis and I'll find you the right partner. At least for the evening." For the offer of a visit to Boll, she brightens, "Surely, though-- well, I'm still learning who's who for after hours child care around here. I'll have to find someone to watch Yvalia for me," Not the easiest of tasks when a mother is new to a place and knows no one. "Give me a little notice before you're to head that way so I can arrange it?" She requests. "I'd suspect that will be my experience too. It's so gloomy here." She sighs, "But there are worse places to be, to be sure." There's a very brief pause, "Want to talk about it?" It? Ista? The reasons he left? Anything? She's making a blanket offer of an ear. "You should teach me sometime." R'co gives a gentle squeeze in the midst of his massaging; a soft, warm touch. It's as friendly as it is suggestive, because he knows exactly where his place is, and exactly what Tayte's answer will be. "Darling, I honestly have no sway in finding you a way into the Snowasis, but if I can help in any way, do let me know? I've barely had time to get acquainted with anyone in there, save for this darling brunette behind the bar - you should see the arse on him. I want to bite it." He knows even less about the Weyr's child carers. "Wait 'til it snows, sweets. High Reaches is beautiful when it snows; Yvalia will love it. I'll help her build a snowman." When she asks about Ista, R'co's kneading hands pause, and he leans over to the edge to grab his little oil bottle. Warming it up between his palms takes longer than it really should, and he sighs. "No. It still hurts. No." A beat. "Did you see him, before you left? W-was he happy?" The brownrider's tone suggests whoever he is, he shouldn't be happy. "Pfiranth will be rising any time now." Another regretful note in his tone, and he sighs. "I don't want to know." But he does. So badly. "Oh, dear, I'm so out of practice, I doubt I'd be able to teach you anything." It's teasing, but along the same lines as what he's heard before. She doesn't talk about it. She never has. The reasons why she was suddenly a no-go, the reasons that she always passed on offers that came her way. There was speculation, of course, at Ista. Most assumed it had to do with the baby and maybe they would be right. She'd never had the conversation with anyone. These thoughts flit across her face, but with it resting on her arms on the towel as she faces away from R'co, they are hers alone. Normally, there'd be a laugh for his commentary about the bartender, but now just a thoughtful, "Mmm." Is she even listening? "I'm sorry, Roc, what were you saying?" Apparently not. But at least she's sorry about it. She even shrugs off his touch in favor of turning with a grateful smile to give him her undivided attention.She must have missed everything through his talk of snow because there's no pout or bitter smile for the stuff. "I didn't." She admits gently. "I heard some whispers, but I'm not sure any of them were reliable." She reaches out her hand now to lay it gently upon the shorter man's shoulder. It's deeply sympathetic to be sure. "Time heals all wounds. Enough time. I know it sucks in the meantime." That's her brand of condolence: wise words partnered with telling it how it is. The truth can hurt, but sometimes it is also the best tool for progress. There's no mind in R'co's expression that Tayte wasn't listening. He smiles up at her gratefully for not divulging anything more of those things that he knows he doesn't need to know, since they'll only upset him; and he looks at her hand on his shoulder with a heavy sigh. "I have an idea, darling." It's a sudden perking-up, an attempt to get out of the morose mood that's settling over him at the dredging up of memories. To counter her hand on his shoulder, he rests his lightly on her waist, grinning up at her. "When I've fixed up my weyr, you and Yvalia ought to come up. We'll have tea, Yvalia can mess around with my art things, and you and I can talk, and drink, and be silly and just... just be. Be happy. Sad. Whatever. Maybe we can all paint a mural on my wall, or something? Would that be alright? Would you like that? Oh, do say yes, darling - you'll be my first ever guests in my new weyr." There's a laugh from Tayte which is abruptly silenced when the brownrider's hand touches her waist. Under normal circumstances, she probably wouldn't think anything of it, but in the moment before he relates his idea, she's all too aware that they're dressed for a bath, not a drink. Her body tenses under the touch (probably undoing most of his previous efforts). His idea, though, has her starting to relax again. "Sure, Roc. That sounds nice. Just let us know when it's presentable." Her smile is back with her response. "I'm no artist, though. Except with drinks. So how about I'll mix a drink or two and tell you how it looks as you paint?" Her skills are best used as critic, not artist. That tension's easily felt to someone so very used to the difference between relaxed and not, and R'co winces apologetically for the touch. "Easy, Tee," he soothes when she's accepted his offer. "I know where we stand, darling. You come and mix drinks, and I'll even let Yva have her own wall space to do what she wants with. Then she can snooze in my bed, and we'll talk adult things for the rest of the night...and it'll be marvelous. I'll get us a nice dinner, too... what would you like? What does Yvalia like?" "Sorry, Roc. Old habits." Tayte's look is apologetic, too. It's not that she doesn't trust him, its just that nearly three-four turns of keeping people at arm's reach has taken it's toll in it's ability to rob her of her easy going smiles at unexpected touches. "I'm sure Yva would like that. But if you're not fond of a toddler's art becoming a permanent fixture in your weyr, might I suggest you give her some colored chalk? She'd be just as pleased with half the permanency. Then she can always draw something new the next time we visit." It's a sound enough suggestion from a mother's perspective. "Vali will eat anything. I'm blessed with a non-picky daughter, at least that way. She gets it from me, though. I'll eat anything too. Though, not spiderclaw, if you don't mind. One too many beach bakes has lost my taste for it." She starts moving for the stairs and then seems to remember the conditioner in her hair. "Oh, how long ought this stay in for?" She asks, stopping and turning back toward the expert. "I'll wash it out for you now, sweets. Dear Faranth, my hands are more wrinkled than a prune." R'co holds his palms up to show her, looking disgusted. "I feel positively waterlogged, darling. Here, turn around a little, dip down; not all the way under, just... there." He directs her until she's right where she's needed, and then he steps in behind to begin sluicing water through her hair, washing out the product. "I think I may have another idea for Yvalia, but I'll see what I can get sorted. First, that awful weyr has to be completely redecorated. Of course I adore my Deveriteauxth, but I'm getting quite tired of sleeping in his couch while the rest of the space is simple uninhabitable. Duck under now, darling, and you're done." R'co earns a laugh for the show of wrinkled fingers as she moves to sink down in the water just as he asked. "Then it's good we're about to get out. And that's what happens when you offer to double up your bath time just to help out an old friend. Maybe I'll be out of luck next time. "Do you have any of that soapsand that makes the skin so soft? I've run out of my supply since you left Ista." There's a little nod for the talk of Yvalia. "A complete overhaul, hm? What color will it be this time?" It's asked before she ducks under the water and comes back out a few moments later. Flipping wet hair away from her face, she turns towards the brownrider with a hopeful look for the specialty sand. "As if I could resist a bath-gossip session with you, darling. Honestly, what do you take me for?" R'co tuts teasingly at her, kissing his water-wrinkled fingertips and then pressing them to her cheek. "It's going to have to be white. It's so awfully gloomy up there and there's no light, darling, none at all, so I'm going to have to use lots of white, lots of mirrors, lots of glows... and all of my furniture will need to be reupholstered, too. Purple just won't cut it; it'll be far too dark." She'll probably remember the rich, plummy tones that decorated his shared weyr back in Ista. "I'm thinking green - a milky, cloudy sort of green, like Deveriteauxth's mind. He's spoken to you before, right?" The chatty brown's hardly discerning when it comes to conversation. "And I do have some scrub, but not a soapsand based one. This one's even better; I'll whip you up a batch." "A gossip starved busybody." Tayte might add other types of starving to that assertion, but she leaves it at that, delivered in like humor. "No, I don't think I've spoken with Dev directly. I always get headaches when dragons try that kind of thing. Then again, I stood at Benden a pair of times while I was an apprentice and never Impressed, so I'm supposing there's just something not dragon-friendly about my brain." She winks, though there's definitely a subtle but not unkind request that Dev not bespeak her directly. Certainly, she would be glad to speak with the brown through his rider though. "Cloudy green sounds nice. A light shade, I take it?" She might be thinking in her mind of the various green drinks she could mix to match the decor. "I can do green drinks. Although, I will say, greens aren't always delicious. Blues, however... You can't go wrong." She's likely told him before that reds are a good bet too. He's almost certainly had, more than once, her colorful many-leveled creations. "May I borrow some of yours for the moment? I'll use the sand I have if I have to, but..." She'd really rather use something of his marvelous making. R'co's never been stingy with his bath products, and so he more than happily nudges his bag over to Tayte for her to help herself. "You know, darling, I've been telling him since he was newly-hatched that it's really not ok to go forcing people to listen to him, but he just doesn't listen." The brownrider sighs - a defeated sort of sigh that suggests he's just given up trying with his lifemate. "You're not the first one to complain. He went and popped right into weyrwoman Azaylea's head while she was interviewing me to move here. It was embarrassing, darling - I could've died." He holds up his pruney hands to look at the his wrinkled fingertips, then hauls himself up onto the side of the bath. For the sake of a little modesty, he pinches Tayte's towel and drapes it over his lap, then he rummages in his bathing bag for a specific small pot. Once he's opened it he leans back, massaging the creamy substance it holds onto the large scar across his taut abdomen. "I find light green to be such a calming colour. Perhaps because it's Deveriteauxth's mind-colour? But it's so... calming. So peaceful. Perfect for my weyr." She's not unfamiliar with bath totes full of product, so leaning to the ledge she starts picking through. The journey is not a direct path to the destination by any means. She's sniffing different things, peeking at the contents of this or that, and eventually withdraws the item in question. Tayte's quick to start sudsing up once she does though. She steps to shallower water, where it's barely to her knees to get easier access to her legs before returning to rinse off and ask, "Get my back for me, Roc?" It is one of those hard to reach spots where an extra set of hands can be helpful; besides, he's just been massaging it anyway. "Mmm, that does sound like it might be a troublesome habit for some. I'd imagine there might be other dragons that would take offense at another dragon invading their lifemate's headspace, so to speak." It's said, but then there's a smile as she turns her back to him that clearly say, 'But I'm not a rider, so what do I know?' "Oh, there's nothing wrong with green; its drinks are just questionable sometimes. I don't care for that one they make with the klah and milk flavored liquor, for example. Mint liquor is fine, of course, but I just think the milky ones should be reserved for things like hot cocoa." R'co is happy to oblige with scrubbing Tayte's back, and does so until she's satisfied. He's good at it, and he enjoys it. "It's pissed off a few people before, yes," he admits about his dragon's inability to hold his mental tongue. Her talk of milky drinks makes him frown, and he squeezes her shoulders. "I can't stand milky drinks, but you know that one that turns a milky sort of colour, when you mix it with water? That colour, darling. That's the colour I want. I'd much rather have something fruity to drink, anyway. Or... something strong. It has to be delicious, whatever it is." "Now, Roc, you know it always is if I'm the one mixing it." Tayte's days of making non-delicious drinks except by express request of a client are long behind her. There's a smile flashed over her shoulder for him. "At least living with Dev is never dull." This is delivered cheerfully and she reaches up to catch his hand when it comes over the round of her shoulder to give it a little supportive squeeze, before she releases it and dips down into the water to rinse. "I'd better get on my way. I don't know how the nannies here handle late pick ups from parents. Wouldn't want Vali to get stuck with them all night or think I've forgotten her or gotten hopelessly lost in this place." She smiles to the brownrider again, warm, a familiar look from her. Then she's moving to the shallows, not pulling herself as he did. Since R'co's borrowed her towel for modesty, she walks to retrieve a new one, wrapping it around herself after patting herself most of the way dry. She returns to the side of the pool to collect her caddy. "You'll let me know about going to Boll? And when you'd like us 'round for drinks and drawing or painting or whatever?" "I wouldn't have a clue how they'd react to that, darling." Because R'co has no idea about nannies, or anything in that department. He sighs down at his water-wrinkled hands, getting to his feet while Tayte's drying herself off and wrapping his stolen towel around his waist. "I'll let you know, of course. For both. And I'll send Clara to you with some of the scrub you wanted, too - give me a day or so to whip up a batch for you? Do you want the same scent and everything?" He dries himself off as he talks, then starts slipping into his clothing. "I wouldn't expect you to, m'dear." Tayte answers with a smile. "Please do send Clara. Same scent would be great. It smells fab. But then, you know that." She acknowledges the man's skill with his craft with a grin. With tote collected, she stops to put her clothes back on before moving to the brownrider to wrap her arms around him in a firm hug. "It is so good to see you again, Roc. We'll catch up again soon." She smiles as she releases him from the friendly embrace and snags up her caddy before wiggling her fingers as a wave before heading off to rescue poor, patient Yvalia from the hands of these foreign nannies. R'co's still shirtless when he hugs Tayte back, but it's quickly slipped on as soon as she lets go, and he nudges his feet into his soft shoes while doing up buttons."It's good to see you again too, Tayte-love, really - I could use a friend here." He grabs his bath bag, walks her as far as the door, then turns to wiggle his fingers back at her for a warm farewell. "Be good, darling. Have a wonderful evening." Then, with her going in the opposite direction to the nannies, he trots out to the bowl where Deveriteauxth is waiting. |
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Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Fri, 24 May 2013 05:24:30 GMT.
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Aw. I like how well they get along, considering they're both from Ista. It's nice to see the pre-developed boundaries, the habits, how comfortable they are with each other. ^^ As always, R'co is too funny.
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