Logs:The Hitch of the Hair
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 1 November, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Ilicaeth, Gallagher |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gallagher is getting a pre-hatching bath; he's boring as a bather. Alida has a problem and eventually asks for help. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 2, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
   |
| 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.
As is inevitable once word that a hatching is imminent has spread, the atmosphere within the caverns has changed, palpably. Almost everywhere there's a combination of excitement, stress, and people are in a hurry. The bathes aren't immune from the effect as there's an intermittent flow of people in and out, scrubbing up or picking up the laundry that had their hatching day best in it. Gallagher seems to be one of the former, but his steps are measured and lacking in the expected excitement from one wearing a white knot. He arrives at the cubbies and stuffs in what must be fresh clothes before the dirty ones are stripped off to join them. Weyrborn and barrack-raised, there's no shame in the way he carries himself to the edge of the pools, slipping in efficiently and leaving his towel at pool's edge. Either Alida's ignoring, or more likely glossing over the comings and goings of other bathers right now, since - between pauses for scrubbing - she's concentrating more on whatever makes her occasionally call out with increasing aggravation, "Shit." The cuss drifts out over the air of 'her' particular pool, and assaults Gallagher's ears, perhaps leading him to believe he's chosen the 'wrong,' random pool to bathe in, if he wants utter peace. A tongue of mist parts for a moment, showing both a tan-towel-wrapped head and green eyes, plus a lurid whirl of orange-splotched blue jewels moving around in the water. Blue eyes follow the sound, regardless of what conclusions he might draw about the nature of the pool he's chosen. When the mists part their veil briefly, Gallagher's gaze falls on the familiar woman behind them. He watches until the mist has re-settled, obscuring her from his view. His brow crinkles just little and there's a hint of a frown for a moment before he clears his expression to neutrality and slides through the water. "Alright there, Alida?" He asks as he draws closer, though coming to a stop with at least a body-length between them. That someone entered 'her' pool was noted by the almost-always sharp guard, but that it happens to be Gallagher... A faint startle occurs, hidden in the mist, and it sends the owner of those little whirling jewel eyes rowing away from the center of the pool, back towards her human. As for Alida, "Yeah... No." She sounds rather aggravated, not in distress...fed-up with something. As the candidate closes, another splash followed by the noise of trickling water is heard, along with the bluie's low, intense alto which notes, "Try again, will ya?" Oh wait. "Her." Beat. "Pyrite, not you." Hopefully that's directed to Gal. "Something you need assistance with?" Gallagher asks blandly. He probably notices the firelizard, but if so, he doesn't acknowledge her. He shifts toward the edge of the pool where there's a bucket of soapsand, apparently starting about his business until she clarifies. There's a low 'cheep', and the sound of a fluid little 'sploosh' right after Alida orders her little beastie, the woman murmuring in clipped fashion to Gallagher's inquiry, "Don' think so..." What follows about twenty seconds later is a sudden, "Ow! Fuck..." from the bluerider; first surprised and slightly pained, then irked and aggravated in full...immediately followed by a quick, louder 'sploosh!' as Pyrite hurls herself out of the water towards the ceiling, chitter-cheepling in mixed wariness and aggravation, as well. Another span of seconds allows the blonde to master her ire, and grunt out darkly towards Gallagher, "I got somethin' on the bottom uv my foot." Apparently neither she nor her flit can get to it. Gallagher's hand pauses in the path it's taking to get to the soapsand. "Something like a piece of jerky or something like a nail?" Beat. "If the latter, I'd say fingers would probably be more helpful in removing it. You can't reach it?" He asks, raising a brow as fingers close around a fistful of sand which gets rubbed into his short locks a moment later. "Asshole..." Alida grumps to the sound of Gallagher's voice as Pyrite perches somewhere far away from her owner while the blonde's irked. "No; like one uv the Spires..." is grumbled out with deeply-scathing sarcasm, followed by her usual delivery of, "Pyrite 'says' it looks like some sorta hair." Beat. "I can't get it, an' her paws ain't quite designed well enough, either." "So are you going to ask me for my help?" It's a simple question from Gallagher. One whose answer has to wait a moment as he dunks under the water, the suds haloing on the surface before his resurfacing breaks the cloud apart, leaving water dripping down his face. She's still not used to asking for help from anything human, and Gallagher's pressing for the formality of it rankles Alida deeply after Turns spent having to 'survive' on her own merits in a world of men. Once again, cue the intervention of a silent (to the ears, anyway) blue dragon, Ilicaeth's words finally getting his rider to grudgingly grumble, "Yes..." to Gallagher. She's still trying to pick at the slightly painful, very irritating thing on the outside of her right foot. Maybe she'll get lucky and nab it before the candidate can reach her. Drolly, « A hair ain't a sign uv surrender. » (Ilicaeth to Alida) "Alright." This, too, is simple. Gallagher rinses his hands in the water and moves smoothly toward the bluerider. "Lean back and hold your foot up." He requests, having stopped a little closer than a leg-length away. She feels rather foolish in this position, but Alida grumpily raises that right foot as her back braces against the wall of the bath, showing Gallagher not only tracts of pale, smooth skin, but the occasional scar as well. "It's on the outside...nearer the back uv the arch, in front uv the heel." His first hand finds her leg mid-calf, the other finding her ankle a moment later, where upon the first hand shifts down to her foot. His eyes don't avoid her pale skin, but neither do they linger. Gallagher's largely focused on the task at hand, but as almost is always the case, aware of his surroundings. His fingers work for a moment at her foot, seeking to bring the offending thing free and hold it out of the water for the rider. She doesn't flinch or start when Gallagher grips her leg, the feeling of plenty of hard muscle evident just beneath perhaps oddly soft skin. That hair, however, is much more 'subtle,' the thin, yet coarse thing not having much of a surface to grasp as it sticks out from the side of slightly callused foot. He misses it on repeated attempts...but at least Gal can see it and grasp decently at the aggravational thing. After numerous attempts, it's only his drying fingers and their whorled 'prints' that finally allow the runner hair to be nabbed and plucked out of sore skin, Alida's brow scrunching up a little at the small pain, then clearing quickly in relief. "Ah jays... Think ya' got it..." is sighed in relief. Once success is announced, Gallagher's hand holding her ankle releases it. Pinched between two fingers, he offers over the hair toward the bluerider, "Souvenir?" His expression is deadpan, of course. "Feel free..." Alida notes a little drolly, reversing Gallagher's intention. "Somethin' ta remember me by when ya get out there on the Sands an' the hatchlings maul ya." Her smirk is both relieved and darkly humored, and soon enough followed by a low, "Thanks." "Oh, I don't collect souvenirs." He answers without any rise to her humor. "Only scars." As Gallagher shifts, setting the hair on the ledge of the pool and grabbing up more soapsand to continue his original mission, his back rises out of the water, and indeed, it has more than a handful of scars on it. None are especially large, but with the heat of the water, they've pinkened enough to be seen. "It was nothing." He answers her thanks with a shrug as he starts scrubbing, his back to her. He makes quick work of it. "Sounds familiar..." Alida notes dryly in return to the candidate, her greens flicking like blades across those glimpses of scars on his back when they're visible through mists. After some small time spent cleaning up her nails, the now-silent woman finally hauls her carcass up out of the waters - still hunching a little...the poor Holder-born - and padding off to get a big towel and seat so she can dry and then dress herself in clean clothing. Just before she pads off is heard a soft, "Any day, any hour, now. Good luck, Gallagher." |
Leave A Comment