[LOG] - Ulyana: Fear
Title: Fear
Summary: Ulyana encounters D'shal, Lilah, and their respective lifemates in the Hot Springs. The result is an uncomfortable ordeal.
Characters: D'shal, Eliyaveith, Kuquuth, Lilah, Ulyana
Location: Hot Springs, Fort Weyr
Time: Day 13, month 12, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 09/30/2014
Storms outside mean more bodies inside - and, of course, a lot more muddy clothing and hot baths and the like. While some of the other Candidates are off working directly with the laundry staff, a few are in the baths, collecting used towels and discarded clothing to be ushered off to be seen to. Ulyana is one of those lucky lot, if one could consider it lucky; at present, she's busy walking around with a basket half-full of wet towels and cloths and other odds and ends that she's collected along the way. Her expression is impassive - as always - and her manner is brisk and efficient; dutiful, even if the Candidate's knot sits heavily on her shoulder.
There is a rush to Eliyaveith's heavy steps as she enters the large cavern, the largest of Fort's dragons escaping the rain and mud only to plant herself at the entrance from the Bowl to wait--. It isn't entirely obvious what she is waiting for, but she does it patiently even as her gaze roams the rest of the cavern. It does find Ulyana and that knot, lingering for a moment.
It's from the inner hallways that D'shal makes his way into the activity-churned humidity of the pool-bearing cavern. He looks to not have escaped the storms unscathed -- his hair is flattened by a dampness that clumps together drip-drained locks. Whatever jacket he had on is no longer with him. Instead he just has a waffled long sleeve undershirt, unknotted, and trousers that show a pattern of rainsoak from the thigh down. And /slippers/. The snick ridiculously as he dodges one candidate and almost runs into... Ulyana. "Watch it," is blunt and reflexive as his hand jerks to balance against the opposite side of her basket. Never mind that he was the one not looking, frown squinted towards the dim light of the bowl entrance which Eliyaveith has come to linger within.
The presence of the gold is disconcerting to Ulyana, a fact made manifest only in the flattening of her mouth and the sidelong look spared for her. Fortunately, there's work to tend to - and bronzeriders to avoid, as it turns out. D'shal's hasty approach yields an abrupt cessation of movement from the girl - and a deep furrowing of her brow. Her lips twist irritably as she intones in that queer, flat voice of hers, "I was. You should not be moving so quickly here. The floor is wet." Though the rider's attention might stray back to the hulking golden figure at the entrance, the Candidate's is pulled by a knotted heap of wet clothing. "Excuse me," is uttered in an obligatory fashion as she takes a step aside to tend to the mess.
A soft rumble of concern catches in Eliyaveith's chest even as D'shal and Ulyana almost collide, attempting a warning of her own that manages to be gentle despite her size. She steps forward, crossing closer, to snake her head towards the Candidate and huff a soft breath over her. Luckily for them both, perhaps, Lilah appears at that same entrance not a moment later, her hair drenched and the simple, grey trousers and tunic that she wears soaked to her bones, practically.
Well now D'shal is frowning at Ulyana. The heavy fall of his gaze is angled onto the slight girl. He is perhaps not so impressed over her admonishment to not run on the pool deck. "Yeah," is far drier than stone and sky. She's excused, but the dubious scan of hazel eyes will follow. They may be fixing upon her shoulder, but it'd be hard to say since the incoming gold's blunt snout soon takes up his attention. His slippers scuffle as he squares to watch the exchange, a fist setting to rest at his waist while his other fingers draw a pull over his lower lip. If he's aware of Lilah's arrival, he doesn't yet make reaction to it.
And the creature approaches. Ulyana stiffens and freezes, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed at the gold's movement. She endures the huffed breath with a thin shudder that crawls down her spine and a further tightening of her jaw. Nor does she move again until Lilah's arrived and, hopefully, serves as some kind of distraction for the beast. She takes that moment to snatch up the clothing and deposit it into her basket - and then to move quickly aside, putting distance between herself and the rest. A glance is cut toward D'shal, but it lingers only on the slippers in a slow, calculating kind of way. "They will be bringing fresh towels soon," is spared for the collective benefit of the riders, though her voice has taken on a tinny quality in addition to its dullness.
Again, worry rumbles in Eliyaveith's chest, even as Ulyana steps away, and her gaze lingers on the Candidate. Lilah does prove enough of a distraction as she reminds her lifemate, "I thought you wanted a bath. Coming here and bugging the Candidates isn't a bath." Eliyaveith snorts her own opinion, but she steps away to sink her large form into the dragon bath with a sense of grateful relief in the way her muscles relax in the warmer water. Her rider follows to the edge, but not without casting a brief look at Ulyana and D'shal both.
The girl's stiffness and the gold's worries -- these are the things that seem to preoccupy the bronzerider so that motion alone doesn't alter his focus. Lilah's comments to her lifemate finally are what his glance from dragon to rider, a quick down-and-up taking in her sogginess. But it's Ulyana that the sway of his feet edges fractionally towards. Like his feet can feel her odd calculation. "Great." Bland, but what's so exciting about terrycloth. "Which one of the two hundred answers was it?" From his mouth, a blunt finger unfolds to point towards the white knot on her shoulder.
Tension resides securely in Ulyana's shoulders all the while, drawing stark lines of sinew along her neck. She follows the progress of gold and rider until the former's in the water and, only then, does relief seem to sink in. And, of course, work beckons. Once her basket is full, she ventures away a step or three to hand it off to a laundry runner, only to retrieve a new basket from the same. Her attention is momentarily drawn to the current stock of towels - only to be wrenched back at D'shal's words. A slow blink follows. The answer is slower to come. And when it does? "It was the same answer that the Weyrleader did not feel was adequate." One moment later, then: "Why are you wearing slippers?"
For all that Lilah settles silently at the edge of the dragon pool, there is a tension to the line of her shoulder as she holds herself still, as if perhaps, perhaps she might be listening.
The vaguest of smiles rearranges the shape of the bronzerider's mouth. "Duty," D'shal flatly believes he recalls. The jump of his gaze checks briefly into the candidate's new basket. "Boots were dirty." His fingerpoint has loosened to a more general fixing upon Ulyana. "Are there scrub brushes?" It might sound a little like a command, particularly as he turns instead of wait for the answer. The rough woven fabric of his footwear is picking up moisture as he traipses through low puddles towards the large pool, aiming to arrive behind one of Lilah's stiff shoulders.
"Yes." There's a faint quirk of Ulyana's mouth at that. "And the understanding that Impression means change." An obvious thing, that, and uttered with bland finality. The statement and resulting question from D'shal resolve in a tilt of her head in the direction of the larger pool. "There might be a few over there," she reasons, only to pause and consider further, "I cannot be sure those are clean. I will retrieve one." The basket is tucked in against her hip and, while the rider moves on, she moves away to where the other supplies are kept. Of course, it might take her a while, given how much stuff has been just jammed in there.
The sound of D'shal's slippered feet give him away, dark eyes lifted in a glance over her shoulder as Lilah notes his approach. It is perhaps the shared sense with her dragon that has her unsurprised by his move over to the dragon pool. "Bring one for yourself, too," she tells Ulyana, proving she was listening, yes. "I think between the three of us, we won't need to spend all day here cleaning." A pause, before she offers to the Candidate in explanation, "And you will need to learn to clean and oil soon enough, if you Impress."
For the answers that earned Ulyana her candidate's knot D'shal gives the lingering fix of his interest. As for the brushes, a shallow nod is unconcerned when it comes to the girl's capability of finding something that will suit. His smile formalizes into brief being when he's hit by Lilah's over-shoulder glance. "Afternoon, goldrider." He stops beside her to look down at his feet, picking up one slightly in consideration before starting to kick the slippers off onto a dry patch of stone. "She takes interest in the candidates," is an observation paired with a squinted peek of gaze aimed at the waterbound queen.
Kuquuth heads in from the bowl.
Kuquuth has arrived.
And if Ulyana goes just a little more pale after Lilah's instruction, it must surely be a quirk of the lighting. Surely. "Of course," is a thin thread of a thing, barely held together as a phrase. The revelation doesn't precisely slow her down, but it does rattle her a bit - a rare thing, that. The clean basket is soon repurposed, with several towels and three brushes being deposited into it. Uncertainty finds her adding several pots of sweetsand to the lot. It's not enough to handle a limb of the gold - let alone the entirety of the creature - but it's there all the same. Her return is muted, in some sense; the basket is set at the edge of the pool and she stands, tension threaded through her shoulders much like before. She looks first at D'shal and then at Lilah, unblinking, and waits wordlessly.
"The eggs are her brothers and sisters. The Candidates will be their riders," explains Lilah, her gaze following Ulyana and her reaction even as she eases herself into the dragon pool with her dragon. Luckily, she is already soaked. But, for Ulyana's sake, the gold draws closer to the edge so that she won't have to climb in. "Just grab a brush and scrub. She doesn't need soap, just to get the debris and anything that might flake." Eliyaveith snakes her head onto the edge of the pool, near Ulyana's feet.
He makes an offset compliment to Eliyaveith, the bronze that now comes prowling in from the sheeting rain, all rangy elasticity to her blunt power. A vigorous shake goes through his sinewy spine at the threshold, freeing chill water pooled in the excess of sail and leaving it outside. He plunges into the spring with more confidence than dignity, dark chin high and keel chasing broad waves that lap against gold, Lilah, and stony edge. D'shal, still with the lopsided curve of mouth that answered the goldrider's explanation, remains landbound as he turns to evaluate the bounty Ulyana's brought them. "Good," is grunting mark of his approval. He wanders a step over to the opposite side of the wicker from the slight girl, hands dropping to the perfunctory work of skimming off trousers and shirt. They can hang on the basket's edge, and he has undershorts to wear as he flips a brush into his palm. "Could see if she wants her teeth done," he suggests helpfully to the candidate as he flicks a smirk between her and Eliyaveith's beached face before moving along an edge to where Kuquuth can sidle up.
The brushes and sand are taken out methodically and set at the edge of the pool while Lilah explains. This time, a faint tremor exists where there was none before; she takes up a brush to try to still it, but the strange quaver finds a home in her jaw. Her response to the goldrider's words is naught more than a mute up-down-center nod and a half-step forward that allows her to sink into a purposefully dutiful kneel near the dragon's head. She doesn't actually look at Eliyaveith, though, even if she's forced to face her; there's a definite disconnect in place while she applies the brush to the creature's muzzle. D'shal's words do nothing to cut through that strange distance, either, but it's just as well. She's likewise oblivious to the arrival of the bronze or the rider's disrobing; all of her focus seems fixed on the process of scrubbing and the controlled, deep breathing coupled with the slow, methodical working of her throat.
Paddling to the edge of the pool to latch on in the waves made by Kuquuth, Lilah is given a perfect view as she waits out the waves made by Kuquuth to watch D'shal as he strips. Dark eyes linger, shamelessly, on the man's form for a moment, but she pulls her gaze away before /too long/ has passed to look to Ulyana. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. But, she's large enough that she's not as delicate as what the hatchlings will be," she tells her, focusing on her. "Though, dragon's hide is important. If there is a crack or dryness, going Between can become dangerous for them."
If the bronzerider's gaze drifts across Lilah's watch, the notice of such puts no hitch in the way he takes his post beside Kuquuth. The elder dragon is edging in to where the scanning tilt of his gaze can spectate on the human-sized pools further in, though a tip of faceted eye shows in reflection that he's watching Ulyana's mute work at the queen's nose. D'shal is more obvious in glances that check on the candidate even while he leans and reaches in to get at a soggy spot of wing-pit. It's a habitual type of thing, but even so, he interjects no addition to the goldrider's instruction.
The goldrider's words might well be falling *between* for all the response they garner. Ulyana's motions are meticulous, the pressure firm; but there are no questions from the typically inquisitive Candidate. There is only that silent swallowing and the periodic twitch of her jaw, with seemingly sightless eyes fixed on the gold - yet, not at all. Once she seems satisfied with one section, she moves onto the next, but she doesn't stand to move - getting up might be far more dangerous than the thought of disobedience, if for completely different reasons. It's just a careful shift-slide on her knees to get closer to the tip of Eliyaveith's nose, with the skirt providing a modicum of protection from the stone. And there is, after a fashion, a delayed noise of some sort from the girl in wordless acknowledgment that she's listening.
Lilah likely doesn't miss any of Ulyana's reaction, though she does glance briefly towards D'shal. But, whatever reason she is looking at the bronzerider, she eventually returns her attention to the Candidate even as she gets a brush of her own to work on Eliyaveith. "If you do Impress, you may end up with a dragon that doesn't like to be cleaned or oiled, and it will be up to you to enforce it," she continues, simply. "When I first Impressed, I thought Eliyaveith hated water, but it was the cold -- she's very sensitive." Yet, for all that, the large gold is holding herself very still for Ulyana, hardly twitching a muscle.
Now D'shal meets Lilah's gaze for that brief moment, some accord perhaps found between dark and hazel eyes. His brushing has paused, thick fingers running testingly along a thicker wingspar as he finishes his unlooking attentions to the dustcloud wing. Done, bare feet pad over stone as he walks nearer to where Eliyaveith has rested her head before dropping to a seat on the pools edge. His calves disappear into the water and his shoulders fall absently slack as he studies Ulyana in aside. His brow is knit, but that may just be habit too. He has no story, just a direct question for the candidate. "Are you scared of them?"
A dry click at the back of the Candidate's throat will have to suffice for a response - she's absorbing, if not articulate about it at the moment. The line of Ulyana's mouth flattens further and pulls into something thin and bloodless. She has to pause and adjust her skirts to allow her to round the corner, as it were, and that very act seems to drain her for a moment. She pauses with the brush in her lap and eyes shut for the span of two long breaths before she gathers herself up enough to continue. It's D'shal's question that cracks her concentration and it's a struggle between obeying Lilah's earlier request - it's that dutifulness again - and sliding a sidelong look to the rider to answer. She settles on the former, though her words - strained and thin as they are - are directed to D'shal. "Dragons did not exist until I was Searched. My encounters with them since have been more bad than good." She swallows hard, but it's not quite enough to choke down: "They are hideously huge and terrifying."
"Hideously huge and terrifying," repeats Lilah dryly, a sharpness there that is perhaps defensive of her overgrown and not so pretty queen, especially when one compares her to the other two slimmer, lighter queens around Fort. Eliyaveith, though, seems to take no offense. She remains still, unmoving as Ulyana works, though her whirling gaze seems to track her.
"Hideously." D'shal also tends to dry, but his is flavored with the barest suggestion of humor. His gaze is quiet a moment upon the queen, then flatter upon the gold's rider. It's with this water-ward turn of his head that his arms make the light push that sends him into the pool. "Apart from their offensive size." Hazel eyes weigh another (warning?) moment upon Lilah before the curve of his submerged step turns his attention back to Ulyana. "What kind of bad?" There's a further shiver of waves across the water as Kuquuth slips lower into the pool, the low rustle of his wings a motion of unconcerned ease as they collect a sluice of warmth across the barrel he rolls towards his rider.
The scrubbing continues as a function of keeping her hands busy. If they're still too long, they have a nasty tendency to shake, a tendency that Ulyana is clearly keen on mitigating. There is only a momentary flicker of cool, gray - if somewhat distant - eyes on Lilah for her repetition. A slow blink - and then she's at the task at hand, if marginally more present than mere moments before. Her clenched jaw releases just enough to permit, "I told you already that I was pursued by the Weyrleader's bronze and was not permitted to escape." A beat. Two. "The scant handful of times I have had to ride a dragon ended miserably." She moves a little closer to the edge of the pool, but only just. "Teeth have been bared at me. They have stared. They have come too close, too quickly and without warning." Incidences congeal neatly into generalities, but they're troubling to her all the same. There might be more, but her throat's at work again and the need to breathe deeply returns with a vengeance.
Lilah may meet that weighted warning from hazel eyes, but she only tightens her own lips in response. She remains quiet for Ulyana's answer, working at Eliyaveith's hide, but she at least bites back anything defensive she might be tempted to say.
The dip of the bronzerider's brow deepens at first, perhaps new perspective given to /pursuit/. The water makes a glide of his backtraced steps. His study stays with Ulyana even as his palm slides up to the familiar contours of his dragon's side. The trace of long-etched pucker and warp of bronze hide is easy enough to do by feel. "Plenty t'be scared of," D'shal will grant with his own scruffier flavor of abstract dispassion. "That's all physical," he additionally notices. "And what d'you think about having one in your head?" he might also wonder as he observes the way she fights to keep in steady control beside gentle Eliyaveith. There's a gravity of curiosity in the odd girl, but on this note he tugs his chin to the side to be able to catch sight of Lilah with a slanted glance.
Timing is everything - and it turns out that Ulyana's temporary divergence to dragon-cleaning is soon to end. One of the other Candidates on laundry duty stumbles and spills half of the muddy, mucky mess onto the floor. The yelp doubles as a cry for help and the Cromese girl's head swivels in that direction. A moment's assessment turns into a brief look to both Lilah and D'shal. The gold gets no look - and this is perhaps for the better. "If you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to." There is no waiting for confirmation, however; she's soon pushing to her feet and depositing the brush next to the basket full of dry towels. "Thank you," is uttered as a rote response, flat and threadbare and directed to the thus far silent Lilah. But, to D'shal, "That is a sunrise question." It's not -exactly- what he told her at their first meeting, but it's close enough. She's soon gone to tend to her duties, with nary a look back to track riders or dragons alike.
Only a soft "mmm" slips past Lilah's lips, the sound remarkably neutral in response to Ulyana's rote thanks. If her gaze catches briefly on D'shal's, she says nothing at this moment of what thoughts linger behind dark eyes as she works on finishing off cleaning the large gold, even as Eliyaveith starts to relax again now that Ulyana is away and she doesn't have to hold herself quite as still. The rest of dragon cleaning can pass in relative peace, perhaps.
It's the bronze's head that tips to take in the sudden of the falling basket. His rider doesn't flinch. There's something set back within hazel eyes, held in with a slightly closer twitch, in response to Ulyana's reply. "Candidate." The low word, along with his vague nod, makes up both acceptance and farewell. When the slight girl disappears it leaves him to consider Eliyavaith a long moment, a look that relaxes with the gold and slides over Lilah bearing faint trace of smile. There will be peace, relatively, as he seems similarly inclined to keep to his thoughts as the brush and bronze are taken into the depths of the pool where they can stretch out without bothering scrubbing goldpair or scrambling gofers and where the wide arch entry makes spectacle of the rumbling thunderstorm flickering outside.
Summary: Ulyana encounters D'shal, Lilah, and their respective lifemates in the Hot Springs. The result is an uncomfortable ordeal.
Characters: D'shal, Eliyaveith, Kuquuth, Lilah, Ulyana
Location: Hot Springs, Fort Weyr
Time: Day 13, month 12, turn 35 of Interval 10
RL Date: 09/30/2014
Storms outside mean more bodies inside - and, of course, a lot more muddy clothing and hot baths and the like. While some of the other Candidates are off working directly with the laundry staff, a few are in the baths, collecting used towels and discarded clothing to be ushered off to be seen to. Ulyana is one of those lucky lot, if one could consider it lucky; at present, she's busy walking around with a basket half-full of wet towels and cloths and other odds and ends that she's collected along the way. Her expression is impassive - as always - and her manner is brisk and efficient; dutiful, even if the Candidate's knot sits heavily on her shoulder.
There is a rush to Eliyaveith's heavy steps as she enters the large cavern, the largest of Fort's dragons escaping the rain and mud only to plant herself at the entrance from the Bowl to wait--. It isn't entirely obvious what she is waiting for, but she does it patiently even as her gaze roams the rest of the cavern. It does find Ulyana and that knot, lingering for a moment.
It's from the inner hallways that D'shal makes his way into the activity-churned humidity of the pool-bearing cavern. He looks to not have escaped the storms unscathed -- his hair is flattened by a dampness that clumps together drip-drained locks. Whatever jacket he had on is no longer with him. Instead he just has a waffled long sleeve undershirt, unknotted, and trousers that show a pattern of rainsoak from the thigh down. And /slippers/. The snick ridiculously as he dodges one candidate and almost runs into... Ulyana. "Watch it," is blunt and reflexive as his hand jerks to balance against the opposite side of her basket. Never mind that he was the one not looking, frown squinted towards the dim light of the bowl entrance which Eliyaveith has come to linger within.
The presence of the gold is disconcerting to Ulyana, a fact made manifest only in the flattening of her mouth and the sidelong look spared for her. Fortunately, there's work to tend to - and bronzeriders to avoid, as it turns out. D'shal's hasty approach yields an abrupt cessation of movement from the girl - and a deep furrowing of her brow. Her lips twist irritably as she intones in that queer, flat voice of hers, "I was. You should not be moving so quickly here. The floor is wet." Though the rider's attention might stray back to the hulking golden figure at the entrance, the Candidate's is pulled by a knotted heap of wet clothing. "Excuse me," is uttered in an obligatory fashion as she takes a step aside to tend to the mess.
A soft rumble of concern catches in Eliyaveith's chest even as D'shal and Ulyana almost collide, attempting a warning of her own that manages to be gentle despite her size. She steps forward, crossing closer, to snake her head towards the Candidate and huff a soft breath over her. Luckily for them both, perhaps, Lilah appears at that same entrance not a moment later, her hair drenched and the simple, grey trousers and tunic that she wears soaked to her bones, practically.
Well now D'shal is frowning at Ulyana. The heavy fall of his gaze is angled onto the slight girl. He is perhaps not so impressed over her admonishment to not run on the pool deck. "Yeah," is far drier than stone and sky. She's excused, but the dubious scan of hazel eyes will follow. They may be fixing upon her shoulder, but it'd be hard to say since the incoming gold's blunt snout soon takes up his attention. His slippers scuffle as he squares to watch the exchange, a fist setting to rest at his waist while his other fingers draw a pull over his lower lip. If he's aware of Lilah's arrival, he doesn't yet make reaction to it.
And the creature approaches. Ulyana stiffens and freezes, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed at the gold's movement. She endures the huffed breath with a thin shudder that crawls down her spine and a further tightening of her jaw. Nor does she move again until Lilah's arrived and, hopefully, serves as some kind of distraction for the beast. She takes that moment to snatch up the clothing and deposit it into her basket - and then to move quickly aside, putting distance between herself and the rest. A glance is cut toward D'shal, but it lingers only on the slippers in a slow, calculating kind of way. "They will be bringing fresh towels soon," is spared for the collective benefit of the riders, though her voice has taken on a tinny quality in addition to its dullness.
Again, worry rumbles in Eliyaveith's chest, even as Ulyana steps away, and her gaze lingers on the Candidate. Lilah does prove enough of a distraction as she reminds her lifemate, "I thought you wanted a bath. Coming here and bugging the Candidates isn't a bath." Eliyaveith snorts her own opinion, but she steps away to sink her large form into the dragon bath with a sense of grateful relief in the way her muscles relax in the warmer water. Her rider follows to the edge, but not without casting a brief look at Ulyana and D'shal both.
The girl's stiffness and the gold's worries -- these are the things that seem to preoccupy the bronzerider so that motion alone doesn't alter his focus. Lilah's comments to her lifemate finally are what his glance from dragon to rider, a quick down-and-up taking in her sogginess. But it's Ulyana that the sway of his feet edges fractionally towards. Like his feet can feel her odd calculation. "Great." Bland, but what's so exciting about terrycloth. "Which one of the two hundred answers was it?" From his mouth, a blunt finger unfolds to point towards the white knot on her shoulder.
Tension resides securely in Ulyana's shoulders all the while, drawing stark lines of sinew along her neck. She follows the progress of gold and rider until the former's in the water and, only then, does relief seem to sink in. And, of course, work beckons. Once her basket is full, she ventures away a step or three to hand it off to a laundry runner, only to retrieve a new basket from the same. Her attention is momentarily drawn to the current stock of towels - only to be wrenched back at D'shal's words. A slow blink follows. The answer is slower to come. And when it does? "It was the same answer that the Weyrleader did not feel was adequate." One moment later, then: "Why are you wearing slippers?"
For all that Lilah settles silently at the edge of the dragon pool, there is a tension to the line of her shoulder as she holds herself still, as if perhaps, perhaps she might be listening.
The vaguest of smiles rearranges the shape of the bronzerider's mouth. "Duty," D'shal flatly believes he recalls. The jump of his gaze checks briefly into the candidate's new basket. "Boots were dirty." His fingerpoint has loosened to a more general fixing upon Ulyana. "Are there scrub brushes?" It might sound a little like a command, particularly as he turns instead of wait for the answer. The rough woven fabric of his footwear is picking up moisture as he traipses through low puddles towards the large pool, aiming to arrive behind one of Lilah's stiff shoulders.
"Yes." There's a faint quirk of Ulyana's mouth at that. "And the understanding that Impression means change." An obvious thing, that, and uttered with bland finality. The statement and resulting question from D'shal resolve in a tilt of her head in the direction of the larger pool. "There might be a few over there," she reasons, only to pause and consider further, "I cannot be sure those are clean. I will retrieve one." The basket is tucked in against her hip and, while the rider moves on, she moves away to where the other supplies are kept. Of course, it might take her a while, given how much stuff has been just jammed in there.
The sound of D'shal's slippered feet give him away, dark eyes lifted in a glance over her shoulder as Lilah notes his approach. It is perhaps the shared sense with her dragon that has her unsurprised by his move over to the dragon pool. "Bring one for yourself, too," she tells Ulyana, proving she was listening, yes. "I think between the three of us, we won't need to spend all day here cleaning." A pause, before she offers to the Candidate in explanation, "And you will need to learn to clean and oil soon enough, if you Impress."
For the answers that earned Ulyana her candidate's knot D'shal gives the lingering fix of his interest. As for the brushes, a shallow nod is unconcerned when it comes to the girl's capability of finding something that will suit. His smile formalizes into brief being when he's hit by Lilah's over-shoulder glance. "Afternoon, goldrider." He stops beside her to look down at his feet, picking up one slightly in consideration before starting to kick the slippers off onto a dry patch of stone. "She takes interest in the candidates," is an observation paired with a squinted peek of gaze aimed at the waterbound queen.
Kuquuth heads in from the bowl.
Kuquuth has arrived.
And if Ulyana goes just a little more pale after Lilah's instruction, it must surely be a quirk of the lighting. Surely. "Of course," is a thin thread of a thing, barely held together as a phrase. The revelation doesn't precisely slow her down, but it does rattle her a bit - a rare thing, that. The clean basket is soon repurposed, with several towels and three brushes being deposited into it. Uncertainty finds her adding several pots of sweetsand to the lot. It's not enough to handle a limb of the gold - let alone the entirety of the creature - but it's there all the same. Her return is muted, in some sense; the basket is set at the edge of the pool and she stands, tension threaded through her shoulders much like before. She looks first at D'shal and then at Lilah, unblinking, and waits wordlessly.
"The eggs are her brothers and sisters. The Candidates will be their riders," explains Lilah, her gaze following Ulyana and her reaction even as she eases herself into the dragon pool with her dragon. Luckily, she is already soaked. But, for Ulyana's sake, the gold draws closer to the edge so that she won't have to climb in. "Just grab a brush and scrub. She doesn't need soap, just to get the debris and anything that might flake." Eliyaveith snakes her head onto the edge of the pool, near Ulyana's feet.
He makes an offset compliment to Eliyaveith, the bronze that now comes prowling in from the sheeting rain, all rangy elasticity to her blunt power. A vigorous shake goes through his sinewy spine at the threshold, freeing chill water pooled in the excess of sail and leaving it outside. He plunges into the spring with more confidence than dignity, dark chin high and keel chasing broad waves that lap against gold, Lilah, and stony edge. D'shal, still with the lopsided curve of mouth that answered the goldrider's explanation, remains landbound as he turns to evaluate the bounty Ulyana's brought them. "Good," is grunting mark of his approval. He wanders a step over to the opposite side of the wicker from the slight girl, hands dropping to the perfunctory work of skimming off trousers and shirt. They can hang on the basket's edge, and he has undershorts to wear as he flips a brush into his palm. "Could see if she wants her teeth done," he suggests helpfully to the candidate as he flicks a smirk between her and Eliyaveith's beached face before moving along an edge to where Kuquuth can sidle up.
The brushes and sand are taken out methodically and set at the edge of the pool while Lilah explains. This time, a faint tremor exists where there was none before; she takes up a brush to try to still it, but the strange quaver finds a home in her jaw. Her response to the goldrider's words is naught more than a mute up-down-center nod and a half-step forward that allows her to sink into a purposefully dutiful kneel near the dragon's head. She doesn't actually look at Eliyaveith, though, even if she's forced to face her; there's a definite disconnect in place while she applies the brush to the creature's muzzle. D'shal's words do nothing to cut through that strange distance, either, but it's just as well. She's likewise oblivious to the arrival of the bronze or the rider's disrobing; all of her focus seems fixed on the process of scrubbing and the controlled, deep breathing coupled with the slow, methodical working of her throat.
Paddling to the edge of the pool to latch on in the waves made by Kuquuth, Lilah is given a perfect view as she waits out the waves made by Kuquuth to watch D'shal as he strips. Dark eyes linger, shamelessly, on the man's form for a moment, but she pulls her gaze away before /too long/ has passed to look to Ulyana. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. But, she's large enough that she's not as delicate as what the hatchlings will be," she tells her, focusing on her. "Though, dragon's hide is important. If there is a crack or dryness, going Between can become dangerous for them."
If the bronzerider's gaze drifts across Lilah's watch, the notice of such puts no hitch in the way he takes his post beside Kuquuth. The elder dragon is edging in to where the scanning tilt of his gaze can spectate on the human-sized pools further in, though a tip of faceted eye shows in reflection that he's watching Ulyana's mute work at the queen's nose. D'shal is more obvious in glances that check on the candidate even while he leans and reaches in to get at a soggy spot of wing-pit. It's a habitual type of thing, but even so, he interjects no addition to the goldrider's instruction.
The goldrider's words might well be falling *between* for all the response they garner. Ulyana's motions are meticulous, the pressure firm; but there are no questions from the typically inquisitive Candidate. There is only that silent swallowing and the periodic twitch of her jaw, with seemingly sightless eyes fixed on the gold - yet, not at all. Once she seems satisfied with one section, she moves onto the next, but she doesn't stand to move - getting up might be far more dangerous than the thought of disobedience, if for completely different reasons. It's just a careful shift-slide on her knees to get closer to the tip of Eliyaveith's nose, with the skirt providing a modicum of protection from the stone. And there is, after a fashion, a delayed noise of some sort from the girl in wordless acknowledgment that she's listening.
Lilah likely doesn't miss any of Ulyana's reaction, though she does glance briefly towards D'shal. But, whatever reason she is looking at the bronzerider, she eventually returns her attention to the Candidate even as she gets a brush of her own to work on Eliyaveith. "If you do Impress, you may end up with a dragon that doesn't like to be cleaned or oiled, and it will be up to you to enforce it," she continues, simply. "When I first Impressed, I thought Eliyaveith hated water, but it was the cold -- she's very sensitive." Yet, for all that, the large gold is holding herself very still for Ulyana, hardly twitching a muscle.
Now D'shal meets Lilah's gaze for that brief moment, some accord perhaps found between dark and hazel eyes. His brushing has paused, thick fingers running testingly along a thicker wingspar as he finishes his unlooking attentions to the dustcloud wing. Done, bare feet pad over stone as he walks nearer to where Eliyaveith has rested her head before dropping to a seat on the pools edge. His calves disappear into the water and his shoulders fall absently slack as he studies Ulyana in aside. His brow is knit, but that may just be habit too. He has no story, just a direct question for the candidate. "Are you scared of them?"
A dry click at the back of the Candidate's throat will have to suffice for a response - she's absorbing, if not articulate about it at the moment. The line of Ulyana's mouth flattens further and pulls into something thin and bloodless. She has to pause and adjust her skirts to allow her to round the corner, as it were, and that very act seems to drain her for a moment. She pauses with the brush in her lap and eyes shut for the span of two long breaths before she gathers herself up enough to continue. It's D'shal's question that cracks her concentration and it's a struggle between obeying Lilah's earlier request - it's that dutifulness again - and sliding a sidelong look to the rider to answer. She settles on the former, though her words - strained and thin as they are - are directed to D'shal. "Dragons did not exist until I was Searched. My encounters with them since have been more bad than good." She swallows hard, but it's not quite enough to choke down: "They are hideously huge and terrifying."
"Hideously huge and terrifying," repeats Lilah dryly, a sharpness there that is perhaps defensive of her overgrown and not so pretty queen, especially when one compares her to the other two slimmer, lighter queens around Fort. Eliyaveith, though, seems to take no offense. She remains still, unmoving as Ulyana works, though her whirling gaze seems to track her.
"Hideously." D'shal also tends to dry, but his is flavored with the barest suggestion of humor. His gaze is quiet a moment upon the queen, then flatter upon the gold's rider. It's with this water-ward turn of his head that his arms make the light push that sends him into the pool. "Apart from their offensive size." Hazel eyes weigh another (warning?) moment upon Lilah before the curve of his submerged step turns his attention back to Ulyana. "What kind of bad?" There's a further shiver of waves across the water as Kuquuth slips lower into the pool, the low rustle of his wings a motion of unconcerned ease as they collect a sluice of warmth across the barrel he rolls towards his rider.
The scrubbing continues as a function of keeping her hands busy. If they're still too long, they have a nasty tendency to shake, a tendency that Ulyana is clearly keen on mitigating. There is only a momentary flicker of cool, gray - if somewhat distant - eyes on Lilah for her repetition. A slow blink - and then she's at the task at hand, if marginally more present than mere moments before. Her clenched jaw releases just enough to permit, "I told you already that I was pursued by the Weyrleader's bronze and was not permitted to escape." A beat. Two. "The scant handful of times I have had to ride a dragon ended miserably." She moves a little closer to the edge of the pool, but only just. "Teeth have been bared at me. They have stared. They have come too close, too quickly and without warning." Incidences congeal neatly into generalities, but they're troubling to her all the same. There might be more, but her throat's at work again and the need to breathe deeply returns with a vengeance.
Lilah may meet that weighted warning from hazel eyes, but she only tightens her own lips in response. She remains quiet for Ulyana's answer, working at Eliyaveith's hide, but she at least bites back anything defensive she might be tempted to say.
The dip of the bronzerider's brow deepens at first, perhaps new perspective given to /pursuit/. The water makes a glide of his backtraced steps. His study stays with Ulyana even as his palm slides up to the familiar contours of his dragon's side. The trace of long-etched pucker and warp of bronze hide is easy enough to do by feel. "Plenty t'be scared of," D'shal will grant with his own scruffier flavor of abstract dispassion. "That's all physical," he additionally notices. "And what d'you think about having one in your head?" he might also wonder as he observes the way she fights to keep in steady control beside gentle Eliyaveith. There's a gravity of curiosity in the odd girl, but on this note he tugs his chin to the side to be able to catch sight of Lilah with a slanted glance.
Timing is everything - and it turns out that Ulyana's temporary divergence to dragon-cleaning is soon to end. One of the other Candidates on laundry duty stumbles and spills half of the muddy, mucky mess onto the floor. The yelp doubles as a cry for help and the Cromese girl's head swivels in that direction. A moment's assessment turns into a brief look to both Lilah and D'shal. The gold gets no look - and this is perhaps for the better. "If you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to." There is no waiting for confirmation, however; she's soon pushing to her feet and depositing the brush next to the basket full of dry towels. "Thank you," is uttered as a rote response, flat and threadbare and directed to the thus far silent Lilah. But, to D'shal, "That is a sunrise question." It's not -exactly- what he told her at their first meeting, but it's close enough. She's soon gone to tend to her duties, with nary a look back to track riders or dragons alike.
Only a soft "mmm" slips past Lilah's lips, the sound remarkably neutral in response to Ulyana's rote thanks. If her gaze catches briefly on D'shal's, she says nothing at this moment of what thoughts linger behind dark eyes as she works on finishing off cleaning the large gold, even as Eliyaveith starts to relax again now that Ulyana is away and she doesn't have to hold herself quite as still. The rest of dragon cleaning can pass in relative peace, perhaps.
It's the bronze's head that tips to take in the sudden of the falling basket. His rider doesn't flinch. There's something set back within hazel eyes, held in with a slightly closer twitch, in response to Ulyana's reply. "Candidate." The low word, along with his vague nod, makes up both acceptance and farewell. When the slight girl disappears it leaves him to consider Eliyavaith a long moment, a look that relaxes with the gold and slides over Lilah bearing faint trace of smile. There will be peace, relatively, as he seems similarly inclined to keep to his thoughts as the brush and bronze are taken into the depths of the pool where they can stretch out without bothering scrubbing goldpair or scrambling gofers and where the wide arch entry makes spectacle of the rumbling thunderstorm flickering outside.