Bathtime != relaxation
The what: Talien gains some unexpected company when she steals into the baths for a late night soak.
The who: Talien, I'daur and B'yan
Water Caverns
The cavern's shape resembles a huge, big bellied ship, beached and turned upside down. Tendrils of steam fill the air regardless of the time of day or night. The soothing lap of water provides a quiet background melody. Two pools take up the majority of the cavern. The smaller one is used for laundry, while bathers prefer the irregular, larger oval. Pipes, with fanciful feline head spouts, continually supply the cavern with both hot and cold water, and hidden drains lure the used liquid away. Benches slouch back against the rough stone walls, and a few hooks painted in the hues of purple, blue, and lilac allow clothing to be hung during bathing.
Talien has chosen a time when the water caverns is known to be empty. Carrying a satchel over one shoulder, she deposits it next to the ledge of the bathing pool and then strips before slipping into the water. Leaning into it the water until it laps against the underside of her chin, Talien closes her eyes with a content sigh.
What B'yan is doing in the water caverns at this time of night is anyone's guess, though the fact that the bronzerider is striding in with his hands dirty could give good suggestions. With a dark carrysack slung over a shoulder, he walks right by Talien without a glance, reaching out to grab one of the towels to drape over an arm. Once near a bench, he slips the carrysack down and casts a furtive glance about, finally spotting the satchel by the ledge with a furrowed brow.
Oh, look. I'daur's chosen a time mostly deserted to head to the bathing cavern himself. He has in hand a small change of clothes and a towel, and shuffles into the cavern to set them down on a bench before he even bothers to look around, much as B'yan does. His first glance, though, brings the bronzerider into view, and I'daur offers him a nod that's cut short when his gaze strays to the next person in view: Talien. I'daur pulls up short, just looking at her, expressionless.
Talien, neck-deep in water (and about to be neck-deep in something else), doesn't open her eyes until she hears footsteps echoing in the cavern. Such initially merits the opening of one eye, though the other soon opens as she spots B'yan, and then I'daur. Her face pales slightly, but the heat of the water or the awkwardness of the situation soon has her cheeks flushing red while she slides closer toward the side of the pool.
B'yan turns around further, catching I'daur's entrance with a return nod before noting the man's abrupt stop. That's when he finally spots Talien... and that's when the bronzerider has this look as though Turn's End had come early. He glances from the older bronzerider to the young woman, drawing himself up to full height as he saunters on over to the pool and crouches down near Talien. "Well, well," he drawls, breaking the awkward silence with one of his trademark smirks. "Well, well. Evening to you, Weyrlingmaster, and you.... Talien," and her name gets murmured, the mischievous smirk growing and only shown for her.
When Talien looks back at him, I'daur looks away quickly, reaching to gather his clothes back up before he stops himself, steels his shoulders, and lays them back out. She's not going to drive /him/ off. "Evening," he tells them instead, gruffly, though he doesn't move to actually undress and get in the water himself yet.
"Shut up," Talien rebukes B'yan first, since he is the closest and, at the moment, agitating her the most. "You guys aren't suppose to be here," is her next statement, followed with a quick glance to I'daur. And in between trying to hide as much of herself in the water as she can, Talien tries to sneak an arm out to reach her pack, and the stored towel within. When she has it, she pulls it into the water and quickly wraps it around herself.
B'yan, setting his towel down at the ledge only to straighten and return to open his carrysack on the bench, has his eyes on both much like a tunnelsnake would on a unsuspecting clutch. At Talien's rebuke, he simply rolls his eyes as he pulls out cleaner clothes. "This place is open for us just as much as you," he drawls blithely, his smirk showing through in his tone despite his back to him. Yep, he seems to be taking odd pleasure with them all ending up here on this night. Turning around with his clothes, "It's difficult to avoid lurkers like us, you know. Might as well get use to it if you plan on staying around." And if his tone sounds smug, then so be it.
*despite his back to them.
I'daur doesn't answer. He does glance back at Talien briefly, though, and catches sight of that towel sliding into the water. "Most people like to keep that try for afterward," he drawls, studying her for a moment, then looking back. He frowns a moment, then continues loitering rather than getting down to the business of bathing.
"I'm backwards, I suppose," Talien remarks, frowning first at B'yan, then at I'daur. The most senior of the bronzeriders isn't frowned at for long, for Talien soon looks back to B'yan, "You're not lurking. You're following me, or something. No one else is ever here this late at night." While her words are defensive, Talien seeks to adopt a casual posture and, quite frankly, it's not at all that easy as the constant switch of her attention between the two riders is a dead give away to her nervousness.
While I'daur loiters about, B'yan gets to it as he walks back to the ledge where his towel lies and strips down. Hazel eyes sliding to the weyrlingmaster, regarding him with interest, "Aren't you going to bathe or something?" he points out in barely concealed amusement. He steps quickly into the water then, his back facing Talien as her words come across him. There's a splash and a low chuckle, "I always lurk," he drawls with light arrogance, taking his time on starting anything close to bathing himself. "I think you're flattering yourself if you think I'm following you. Haven't you heard? The late night is -my- domain," and he sticks a thumb at his chest when he looks back at her with a wink for his facetious words.
I'daur says nothing, just glances back at B'yan briefly and nods once. He gives up his piddling around then and moves to shrug his shirt over his head. "Think you're flattering yourself," he notes on the subject of lurking, giving the former weyrling another look before he finishes stripping and moves to slide his scarred old body into the water as well. Talien is studiously ignored.
Talien rolls her eyes, and makes quite the show of it while she's at it. She's quick to avoid watching either bronzerider as they slip into the water, their comments, though, aren't so easily ignored. "You're horrible, you know. I don't know why you think you're so great, either." Presumably to B'yan, for I'daur's said nothing to garner such a reply. His is an unfavored, "If either of you think I'm leaving, though, I'm not. I was here first." Staking claim, Talien closes her eyes, continuing to act unperturbed by their presence.
"Well if no one wants to flatter me, who better to do so than myself?" B'yan returns to I'daur with wry ease, watching the man intently before he shifts his gaze over to Talien. There even seems to be an anticipatory look to him as well, as though expecting something to happen. Content with his scrubbing, he affects a look of feigned hurt at Talien's return, then gives an over-dramatic harper sigh. "You just don't know me well is all," he drawls lightly. "I'll give it a few more sevendays, then you'll change your tune. In either case, -I'm- not about to leave either, so," and he settles firmly on his side of the pool, resigning to watching the both of them.
I'daur is in stoic mood tonight, saying nothing, not looking at either of his present companions. He doesn't offer to leave, either, though, just gets on with his own bathing, as though they were any pair of random strangers he was thrown into the baths with.
"Typical," Talien declares, avoiding I'daur as much as he seems to be avoiding her. B'yan, it seems, is just that good at providing an alternate target. "I suppose if you had a better instructor," There is an air of resignment to her tones, a delicate and purposeful pause, "You'd have better manners. Some things just can't be helped." She adjusts her towel a little more then rests her head against the ledge of the pool.
It's B'yan's turn to roll his eyes, looking fully at Talien. "Me, manners?" he returns haughtily, a derisive snort given. "I seem to have a better one than you, and that's saying something. But despite the lovely snide," and he slides a gaze over to I'daur, "I'm -so- glad you brought up the notion of instructors, seeing as how you seem to be at odds with one in this very Weyr." It's after a significant pause that he adds to the weyrlingmaster, "When do you think you'll be free for drinks? I have some whiskey to your liking that I can bring over."
"No," I'daur speaks up finally, "some things can't." Then, warily, he glances sideways at B'yan, frowning. "What? Oh. Any night, s'pose. Have Jaireth tell Zunaeth," he notes, and ignores the latter words on his relationship to Talien.
"Oh, yes, please!" Talien declares, quite suddenly animated, "Let's give him more to drink because he doesn't drink enough as is," B'yan is the intended audience, though it's I'daur who Talien glares at, "That's the problem I have with him, Mr. Nosey," B'yan's title is followed with a quick look at him, "Are you satisfied?"
B'yan raises an interested brow at Talien now, as though she had just performed an expected trick. "Yes," he drawls out in a low voice, his smirk lingering on her. "Not satisfied enough, however, Talien. Perhaps I should just... flat out ask him myself?" he seems to taunt and provoke, hazel eyes boring into her before he turns them on the weyrlingmaster. With a tip of his head, "Jaireth will be calling then. Hope you enjoy whiskey from Boll, though I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?" Smirk.
I'daur's lips purse, and he looks to Talien at her former words; but in the end he says nothing to her, and offers no explanation of his own. Instead, he turns back to B'yan after a moment. "No," he answers shortly.
Talien's animation flounders, like a fish out of water. Several false starts later, she says, "Go ahead. You're imagining there's things between me and him," I'daur, "I don't like him is all. And I'm starting to not like you either." B'yan, fortunately, isn't given the same sort of animosity she regards I'daur with. After adjusting her towel a second time, Talien pushes up in the water and leans against the side. By this point, she's pretty much avoiding even looking at B'yan.
B'yan glances between the two, shaking his head slowly. "Think I'd rather ask him while not in your company, thanks," he drawls to Talien finally, lips twitching to hide the mirth. "Some things just shouldn't be discussed infront of certain folk, see. You understand." He leans back, washing the soapsand off him before adding "You not liking me wouldn't be the first, dear. It's no water off my back, really. A shame to decide such a thing, all because I'm pointing out your shortcomings." He's set to watching I'daur now, studying the old bronzerider with open interest as though the snide banter between him and Talien were as common as the weather.
"B'yan," I'daur says, rather sharply--his weyrlingmaster voice. "Stop harassing her." He
still doesn't look at Talien, for all he adds to the other rider, "Somebody don't want to talk, you shut up about it already. We're just here to bathe."
I'daur might have come to her rescue, but the weyrlingmaster gains no gratitude from Talien. She shoots him a frown, and B'yan a similar one. Clutching the corner of her towel, Talien stands and declares, "It's official. I don't like either of you." Which is the end of the world, apparently. Stepping out of the pool and kneeling to retrieve her satchel, Talien slings it over her shoulder. It should be a credit to her that even with water dripping off the soaked towel she's wearing, Talien manages /some/ dignity when she stalks out of the cavern.
B'yan stops his splashing enough to throw a mutinous look over at I'daur, the authoritarian tone not smoothing over well with him by the look sent. With a lift of his chin, Talien's declaration only gets him to watch her stalk out of the caverns, clearly biting back a retort for either one of them. Doesn't last long, however; once Talien is close to the entrance, the bronzerider mumbles "I find it interesting that you take her side, -sir-," at I'daur, the title deliberately and derisively slurred as he keeps his gaze on Talien's back.
"Well, that's news," I'daur retorts sarcastically. Apparently, for all B'yan's not allowed to snipe at her, I'daur is. He says nothing to B'yan in reply, just glances down and gets back to that bath he seems intent on.
The who: Talien, I'daur and B'yan
Water Caverns
The cavern's shape resembles a huge, big bellied ship, beached and turned upside down. Tendrils of steam fill the air regardless of the time of day or night. The soothing lap of water provides a quiet background melody. Two pools take up the majority of the cavern. The smaller one is used for laundry, while bathers prefer the irregular, larger oval. Pipes, with fanciful feline head spouts, continually supply the cavern with both hot and cold water, and hidden drains lure the used liquid away. Benches slouch back against the rough stone walls, and a few hooks painted in the hues of purple, blue, and lilac allow clothing to be hung during bathing.
Talien has chosen a time when the water caverns is known to be empty. Carrying a satchel over one shoulder, she deposits it next to the ledge of the bathing pool and then strips before slipping into the water. Leaning into it the water until it laps against the underside of her chin, Talien closes her eyes with a content sigh.
What B'yan is doing in the water caverns at this time of night is anyone's guess, though the fact that the bronzerider is striding in with his hands dirty could give good suggestions. With a dark carrysack slung over a shoulder, he walks right by Talien without a glance, reaching out to grab one of the towels to drape over an arm. Once near a bench, he slips the carrysack down and casts a furtive glance about, finally spotting the satchel by the ledge with a furrowed brow.
Oh, look. I'daur's chosen a time mostly deserted to head to the bathing cavern himself. He has in hand a small change of clothes and a towel, and shuffles into the cavern to set them down on a bench before he even bothers to look around, much as B'yan does. His first glance, though, brings the bronzerider into view, and I'daur offers him a nod that's cut short when his gaze strays to the next person in view: Talien. I'daur pulls up short, just looking at her, expressionless.
Talien, neck-deep in water (and about to be neck-deep in something else), doesn't open her eyes until she hears footsteps echoing in the cavern. Such initially merits the opening of one eye, though the other soon opens as she spots B'yan, and then I'daur. Her face pales slightly, but the heat of the water or the awkwardness of the situation soon has her cheeks flushing red while she slides closer toward the side of the pool.
B'yan turns around further, catching I'daur's entrance with a return nod before noting the man's abrupt stop. That's when he finally spots Talien... and that's when the bronzerider has this look as though Turn's End had come early. He glances from the older bronzerider to the young woman, drawing himself up to full height as he saunters on over to the pool and crouches down near Talien. "Well, well," he drawls, breaking the awkward silence with one of his trademark smirks. "Well, well. Evening to you, Weyrlingmaster, and you.... Talien," and her name gets murmured, the mischievous smirk growing and only shown for her.
When Talien looks back at him, I'daur looks away quickly, reaching to gather his clothes back up before he stops himself, steels his shoulders, and lays them back out. She's not going to drive /him/ off. "Evening," he tells them instead, gruffly, though he doesn't move to actually undress and get in the water himself yet.
"Shut up," Talien rebukes B'yan first, since he is the closest and, at the moment, agitating her the most. "You guys aren't suppose to be here," is her next statement, followed with a quick glance to I'daur. And in between trying to hide as much of herself in the water as she can, Talien tries to sneak an arm out to reach her pack, and the stored towel within. When she has it, she pulls it into the water and quickly wraps it around herself.
B'yan, setting his towel down at the ledge only to straighten and return to open his carrysack on the bench, has his eyes on both much like a tunnelsnake would on a unsuspecting clutch. At Talien's rebuke, he simply rolls his eyes as he pulls out cleaner clothes. "This place is open for us just as much as you," he drawls blithely, his smirk showing through in his tone despite his back to him. Yep, he seems to be taking odd pleasure with them all ending up here on this night. Turning around with his clothes, "It's difficult to avoid lurkers like us, you know. Might as well get use to it if you plan on staying around." And if his tone sounds smug, then so be it.
*despite his back to them.
I'daur doesn't answer. He does glance back at Talien briefly, though, and catches sight of that towel sliding into the water. "Most people like to keep that try for afterward," he drawls, studying her for a moment, then looking back. He frowns a moment, then continues loitering rather than getting down to the business of bathing.
"I'm backwards, I suppose," Talien remarks, frowning first at B'yan, then at I'daur. The most senior of the bronzeriders isn't frowned at for long, for Talien soon looks back to B'yan, "You're not lurking. You're following me, or something. No one else is ever here this late at night." While her words are defensive, Talien seeks to adopt a casual posture and, quite frankly, it's not at all that easy as the constant switch of her attention between the two riders is a dead give away to her nervousness.
While I'daur loiters about, B'yan gets to it as he walks back to the ledge where his towel lies and strips down. Hazel eyes sliding to the weyrlingmaster, regarding him with interest, "Aren't you going to bathe or something?" he points out in barely concealed amusement. He steps quickly into the water then, his back facing Talien as her words come across him. There's a splash and a low chuckle, "I always lurk," he drawls with light arrogance, taking his time on starting anything close to bathing himself. "I think you're flattering yourself if you think I'm following you. Haven't you heard? The late night is -my- domain," and he sticks a thumb at his chest when he looks back at her with a wink for his facetious words.
I'daur says nothing, just glances back at B'yan briefly and nods once. He gives up his piddling around then and moves to shrug his shirt over his head. "Think you're flattering yourself," he notes on the subject of lurking, giving the former weyrling another look before he finishes stripping and moves to slide his scarred old body into the water as well. Talien is studiously ignored.
Talien rolls her eyes, and makes quite the show of it while she's at it. She's quick to avoid watching either bronzerider as they slip into the water, their comments, though, aren't so easily ignored. "You're horrible, you know. I don't know why you think you're so great, either." Presumably to B'yan, for I'daur's said nothing to garner such a reply. His is an unfavored, "If either of you think I'm leaving, though, I'm not. I was here first." Staking claim, Talien closes her eyes, continuing to act unperturbed by their presence.
"Well if no one wants to flatter me, who better to do so than myself?" B'yan returns to I'daur with wry ease, watching the man intently before he shifts his gaze over to Talien. There even seems to be an anticipatory look to him as well, as though expecting something to happen. Content with his scrubbing, he affects a look of feigned hurt at Talien's return, then gives an over-dramatic harper sigh. "You just don't know me well is all," he drawls lightly. "I'll give it a few more sevendays, then you'll change your tune. In either case, -I'm- not about to leave either, so," and he settles firmly on his side of the pool, resigning to watching the both of them.
I'daur is in stoic mood tonight, saying nothing, not looking at either of his present companions. He doesn't offer to leave, either, though, just gets on with his own bathing, as though they were any pair of random strangers he was thrown into the baths with.
"Typical," Talien declares, avoiding I'daur as much as he seems to be avoiding her. B'yan, it seems, is just that good at providing an alternate target. "I suppose if you had a better instructor," There is an air of resignment to her tones, a delicate and purposeful pause, "You'd have better manners. Some things just can't be helped." She adjusts her towel a little more then rests her head against the ledge of the pool.
It's B'yan's turn to roll his eyes, looking fully at Talien. "Me, manners?" he returns haughtily, a derisive snort given. "I seem to have a better one than you, and that's saying something. But despite the lovely snide," and he slides a gaze over to I'daur, "I'm -so- glad you brought up the notion of instructors, seeing as how you seem to be at odds with one in this very Weyr." It's after a significant pause that he adds to the weyrlingmaster, "When do you think you'll be free for drinks? I have some whiskey to your liking that I can bring over."
"No," I'daur speaks up finally, "some things can't." Then, warily, he glances sideways at B'yan, frowning. "What? Oh. Any night, s'pose. Have Jaireth tell Zunaeth," he notes, and ignores the latter words on his relationship to Talien.
"Oh, yes, please!" Talien declares, quite suddenly animated, "Let's give him more to drink because he doesn't drink enough as is," B'yan is the intended audience, though it's I'daur who Talien glares at, "That's the problem I have with him, Mr. Nosey," B'yan's title is followed with a quick look at him, "Are you satisfied?"
B'yan raises an interested brow at Talien now, as though she had just performed an expected trick. "Yes," he drawls out in a low voice, his smirk lingering on her. "Not satisfied enough, however, Talien. Perhaps I should just... flat out ask him myself?" he seems to taunt and provoke, hazel eyes boring into her before he turns them on the weyrlingmaster. With a tip of his head, "Jaireth will be calling then. Hope you enjoy whiskey from Boll, though I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?" Smirk.
I'daur's lips purse, and he looks to Talien at her former words; but in the end he says nothing to her, and offers no explanation of his own. Instead, he turns back to B'yan after a moment. "No," he answers shortly.
Talien's animation flounders, like a fish out of water. Several false starts later, she says, "Go ahead. You're imagining there's things between me and him," I'daur, "I don't like him is all. And I'm starting to not like you either." B'yan, fortunately, isn't given the same sort of animosity she regards I'daur with. After adjusting her towel a second time, Talien pushes up in the water and leans against the side. By this point, she's pretty much avoiding even looking at B'yan.
B'yan glances between the two, shaking his head slowly. "Think I'd rather ask him while not in your company, thanks," he drawls to Talien finally, lips twitching to hide the mirth. "Some things just shouldn't be discussed infront of certain folk, see. You understand." He leans back, washing the soapsand off him before adding "You not liking me wouldn't be the first, dear. It's no water off my back, really. A shame to decide such a thing, all because I'm pointing out your shortcomings." He's set to watching I'daur now, studying the old bronzerider with open interest as though the snide banter between him and Talien were as common as the weather.
"B'yan," I'daur says, rather sharply--his weyrlingmaster voice. "Stop harassing her." He
still doesn't look at Talien, for all he adds to the other rider, "Somebody don't want to talk, you shut up about it already. We're just here to bathe."
I'daur might have come to her rescue, but the weyrlingmaster gains no gratitude from Talien. She shoots him a frown, and B'yan a similar one. Clutching the corner of her towel, Talien stands and declares, "It's official. I don't like either of you." Which is the end of the world, apparently. Stepping out of the pool and kneeling to retrieve her satchel, Talien slings it over her shoulder. It should be a credit to her that even with water dripping off the soaked towel she's wearing, Talien manages /some/ dignity when she stalks out of the cavern.
B'yan stops his splashing enough to throw a mutinous look over at I'daur, the authoritarian tone not smoothing over well with him by the look sent. With a lift of his chin, Talien's declaration only gets him to watch her stalk out of the caverns, clearly biting back a retort for either one of them. Doesn't last long, however; once Talien is close to the entrance, the bronzerider mumbles "I find it interesting that you take her side, -sir-," at I'daur, the title deliberately and derisively slurred as he keeps his gaze on Talien's back.
"Well, that's news," I'daur retorts sarcastically. Apparently, for all B'yan's not allowed to snipe at her, I'daur is. He says nothing to B'yan in reply, just glances down and gets back to that bath he seems intent on.