[Log] Who Is Sefton?
Who: Aspen, E'sere
When: Day 18, Month 5, Turn 1, 7th Pass
Where: Hot Springs, High Reaches Weyr
What: Aspen weirds E'sere out.
Hot Springs
This large natural cavern is heated by the same mechanism that warms the hatching sands. Fed by a spring, the waters that fill the center bowl are warm enough to steam and deep enough that a bronze might almost float after following the gentle slope down into the pool. There is room enough there for several dragons, provided they mind their wings.
To the right of the entrance tunnel, a second pool has been hollowed out of the rock. It's much smaller than the first and is intended for use by the human residents of the Weyr. Alcoves over the pool hold extra towels and pouches of 'sand.
Glowbaskets have been raised on poles around the lip of the larger of the two pools. They end three-quarters of the way into the cavern, leaving the rest in perpetual shadow. The rear of the cavern is gloomy, its wall broken by a number of small crevasses.
Contents:
Aspen
Bowl (B)
Aspen
Aspen's age is rather difficult to gauge at first glance. A prematurely snowy crop of wispy thin hair comes to a sharp and extended widow's peak at the front of this man's early receding hairline. It smooths back along the curve of his head, gathered at the nape of his neck by a decorative ornament and coming quickly to an abbreviated runnertail. Features are homely at best, though the sharp beak of a nose and gangly frame often gives the impression of a long-legged wading bird, were such things as herons and the like extant on Pern. His emaciated physique merely accentuates his height, though he does have a semi-permanent stoop to his shoulders that makes his head and long neck precede him wherever he goes.
Aspen wears white. The tunic is baggy and the lacings at the throat leave it bare to midchest. Subtle embroidery traces its in two columns up the front of the tunic and down the sleeves. The sleeves are wide and flowing, gathered and tied at the wrist with the laces trailing down, enhancing his resemblance to a giant stork. His pants are a very light shade of grey, loose and ending at midcalf, where the tops of his grey boots begin. Upon his shoulder rests a knot denoting his past origins in Half Circle Sea Hold and a copper pin that notes his present origins in the caucus.
E'sere
Shaggy, stick-straight brown hair gives this young man a more youthful appearance, disguising his 28 turns. E'sere is tall, rangy, with long limbs well-muscled from turns as a rider. His features are strong, distinctly masculine and rugged in their sharpness. A hawkish Roman nose centers his face; above it, eyes of nondescript hazel and thick brows are half-obscured by a too-long forelock. Thin lips line his mouth. Below that mouth is a strong, sharp chin, his jaw lined with a perpetual five-o'clock shadow.
E'sere is dressed neatly and stylishly, taking great pride in his appearance. His shirt is made of simple white fabric; his pants of a heavier weave that has been tailored to fit him. Even his boots are kept quite clean, polished, and with minimal scuffing and wear. He also wears a thick jacket to keep out the cold of High Reaches, though it seems a bit more battered than the rest of his attire. The knot he wears is the rather complicated mix of threads that denotes a bronzeriding wingleader.
Aspen sprawls lazily in the pool, white hair unbound and floating around him, arms resting along the lip of the pool. His head is up towards the ceiling, lips moving slightly. He appears to be counting. And in the dragon pool, for some strange reason.
With a dark rumble, Morelenth stalks into the sparsely populated bathing chamber and into the dragons' pool in one smooth motion. E'sere follows after, a whimsical smile on his face. "Now, now. She means well," he notes to the dragon, offering a brief nod to the young man lounging in the water.
As the dragon enters, Aspen lets the wave of water that accompanies his entry wash over him lazily. Wiping the excess water and hair away from his face with a delicate hand, he straightens, looking over towards the newly entered pair. "I wonder about that. I just had a girl run away from me like I was Thread incarnate come to devour her." he comments idly. "Did you know that the ceiling up there seems to average about 16 stalactites per square meter? Or so I think. It's hard to tell scale and size from here." He squints up at the ceiling once more.
E'sere's brows arch, but only a moment, before he replies solemnly, "Really? How interesting. I had never noticed myself." He directs a quick glance up at the ceiling, studying the stalactites a moment. Then, shaking his head, he starts undressing, wondering, "Did you tell /her/ of the stalactites?"
"No. It wasn't in here." Aspen comments idly. "I don't think it would have helped. Awfully nervous, that girl. Didn't even take to the wind-gitar idea." Shoulders shrug artlessly in a classic 'some people are just philistines' fashion. "Who do you think Sefton is?" This question comes very naturally in the flow, as if it actually belonged in the conversation rather than being an abrupt segue.
E'sere quirks a small, mildly confused smile at Aspen. "Our headmaster, of the Caucus, of course?" he answer after a moment. "Do you not know him?"
"Is that all you'd say about him?" Aspen asks curiously. "I'd rather not color your testimony. Who else could Sefton be?" Pale eyes fix unblinkingly at E'sere. "Please be more specific."
E'sere furrows his brow, head cocked curiously. "I'm sorry?" he queries, confusion evident now. "What sort of answer were you looking for?"
Aspen blinks at E'sere for a moment. "I think it's a pretty clear question. Who - Do - You - Think - Sefton - Is?" Clearly if he repeats the question more slowly, it will enhance comprehension. "Or if your dragon has an answer, I would like to hear that, too." Is added, with a tilt of his head towards Morelenth. "Comments, questions you'd like answered, suspicions, or just a general description of the qualities that make him who he is." He clarifies.
"I... see," answers E'sere, in a way that clearly means he doesn't. He shares a glance around at Morelenth, shoulders lifting in the barest hint of a shrug. "He's our headmaster, engaged to Lord Fort's daughter, a relation of Lord Boll," E'sere repeats after a moment. "I'm not sure exactly what..." A shrug, unusually helpless.
"Okay." Aspen shrugs, accepting E'sere's somewhat of a non-response with his usual nonchalance, rolling the shrug smoothly into a sink backwards so that he's floating on his back (without a towel, to boot). "How's Thread fighting?" He pokes his head up. "Would you guys appreciate practice runs on Fall, so to speak, instead of jumping straight into full Falls?" Again with the complete lack of coherent segues treated as if they flowed quite naturally.
E'sere's lips purse at the question, and though he's not even made it to the water yet, he's rebuttoning his shirt, taking a step back from the water. "Mm," is his noncommittal answer. And to his bronze: "Morelenth, that's long enough--we should be getting back before the weyrwoman starts to worry again." Morelenth looks less than thrilled by the suggestion, clambering stiffly out of the water and snorting.
Aspen watches E'sere's retreat with a lifted brow. "Hm." Is all he has to say before he puts his head back down to look up at the ceiling. Presumably counting rock formations again.