A refreshing soak
Bathing Pools, Ista Weyr
A permanent cloud of steam envelops the bathing caverns, giving everything inside a misty sheen. Condensation constantly trickles down the stone walls of the caverns and the floors are often slick from the wet feet of bathers. A large red curtain, faded by years of water wear, splits the area in half. One side of it is designated for changing and as such is lined with benches and cubbies for storing clothes while people bathe. Shelves are carved into the walls above where jars of soap and sweetsand await use. Scrubbers and hand towels are also strewn around the shelves, should anyone not have their own.
The bath itself takes up the other portion of the room, one large, warm pool with a submerged lip around the edge for lounging. Benches line the damp walls for various odds and ends or someone who'd just like to enjoy the steam. Hooks are placed at regular intervals for towels to await their bathers. Two large bins are placed at the curtain's edge: one is filled with clean, fluffy towels, the other with used towels to be taken away by the laundresses.
Contents:
Avey
Obvious exits:
Lower Caverns
Avey is sitting in the bathing pool, leaning up against the side, having a soak. Her expression is positively blissful.
A very tired looking Fayre shuffles in from the lower caverns. Her usual bright pink sarong is blemished by grains of sticky black sand, a testament to the rider's time spent on the hatching sands with her dragon. Thus it's quickly abandoned in the change area in favour of bathing attire and the junior weyrwoman is eager to slip into the hot waters of the bathing pool, though she's still wary of the slick stone floors as she approaches the edge of the water.
Avey is roused from her drowsy state by the little wave Fayre's entrance to the pool causes, and she sits up straight when she sees who it is. "Hello, Weyrwoman," she says politely. "Here, you can have this spot; it's got a jet." She moves to the side to give Fayre the better spot.
Avey
Avey's boyishly short copper-colored hair always has a windswept look to it, no matter how recently it's been combed. She has small, dainty ears, a square jaw, a large nose, rosebud lips, and wide grey eyes: her features are as mismatched as if someone had chosen them at random from a bin and stuck them on her face. Certainly not pretty, her face is interesting enough that she's not quite ugly either. Her mannerisms betray her shyness - she's as likely to duck her head and slump her shoulders as meet someone's eyes. She's short, only about five foot two, with a sticklike figure and a flat chest.
Avey is wearing an off-white colored tunic with a pattern embroidered at the sleeves and neck in bright blue thread. Her trousers are a blueish-grey color, a soft weave that looks very comfortable and airy. The sandals on her feet are plain, and rather worn and battered.
Avey is about 15 turns old.
Fayre sighs softly as she gently slips into the steamy water. Noticing she has company, she murmurs, "Nothin' better after a long day, wouldn't ya say? 'cept maybe a drink in the Sandbar, but eh. Right now, this beats even that." The goldrider waves a dismissive, lazy hand as she settles into her spot against the wall. "Oh, no no. Keep your own spot, lass. I'm just hear to soak, not invade other people's places. Least not those belonging to strangers. If I knew ya, I might kick ya out, citing a back ache thanks to shifting eggs around constantly. Oy, Lieryth is a doting one." Her speech shifts from one topic to the next without much of a pause.
"You have to stay out there on the sands all that time, it's the least I can do," Avey insists, not budging from her new spot. "My name is Avey. I'm one of the candidates."
Fayre is equally stubborn and further settles into her own spot, firmly shutting her eyes as if to prove she refuses to budge. But then her eyelids are shooting open again upon the news that she's sitting next to a candidate. In her excitement, she shuffles over to the offered seat, completely forgetting about the previous debate. "Oh! Are ya really? What do ya think so far? Y'got great candidate leaders this time, I can tell ya that. Xie and Balinne are old friends o' mine."
"X'lar is very nice," Avey says, and leaves it at that. "I don't like the chores very much. I don't see why those of us who already had a job can't just do that job: I'm good at message running, but not at minding kids or cooking. But," she concludes with a shrug, "it's only for a few weeks, and my Ma says anyone can put up with anything for a few weeks."
"Ah, I thought the same thing when I was a candidate y'know, 'caused I worked in the kitchens myself." Fayre admits with a shrug, but she carefully adds, "But it really did come in handy when I was a weyrling, I promise ya. So don't go rantin' to Xie or Balinne sayin' I said it's all useless, 'cause it really ain't." She turns towards Avey, resting her right shoulder on the stone wall in order to directly face her. "Plus! When the eggs get hard enough, which should be pretty soon, y'guys can start havin' egg touchings. Lieryth is real keen for y'all to visit with her eggs, so it should be pretty easy to get everyone on the sands."
Avey perks right up. "Ooooh, that'll be exciting. When will they be hard enough? And how long will it be before they hatch, do you think?" she asks eagerly.
Now Fayre gets a little nervous, evidenced by the slightest of blushes appearing on her cheeks. "Oh, well. Um. I'm not sure, really. I'll ask Lieryth when she's awake. Nappin' right now, y'see, which is how I snuck away to come have a soak. Otherwise I'd still be there shiftin' eggs about. Maybe...um, a sevenday? And don't hold me to that! Couple months before they hatch, I would think. I'm /awful/ with timelines, sadly." Her chestnut eyes flick about as if searching for a new topic of conversation. She shifts subjects just slightly, asking, "Have any favourites yet?"
"That long?" Avey's face falls. "It seems way too long to wait. Um, favorites? Not really. They just look like eggs to me, you know? Maybe I'll get a favorite when we touch the eggs. I wonder if the dragons in the eggs know we're out there, touching them, what do you think, weyrwoman?"
"Ah, it'll go fast, trust me. Once you get into the rhythm of chores, you'll be dodging' little dragons on the sands in no time." Fayre explains, a knowing smile playing on her face. Her expression shifts to a more contemplative one, and she thinks for a few moments before replying. "Mmm. I suppose it is hard to get a real sense of them from the galleries. And aye, I definitely think they know when candidates are on the sands. When you get out there for an egg touchin' you'll probably get that sense too. Who else is a candidate this go-round? Any bad snorers?"
"Oh, lots of people. But it's weird, there's way more girls than boys. They need to go and find us some boys," Avey opines. "Cute ones, preferably! I mean, if there are any bronzes, they'll need cute boys to impress to." She grins.
Fayre taps the side of her head, perhaps trying to stir up memories of her own candidacy. "I think it was a pretty even split in my group. Hmm. An' don't worry, impressions usually have a way o' workin' out." She smiles reassuringly before twisting back into a more comfortable position with her back, rather than elbow, to the wall. "An' don't think boys are /too/ cute. Y'have candidacy an' maybe weyrlinghood to go through after that with the whole no sex rule." Her tone takes on a somewhat blunt, but still motherly, tone towards the end of her warning.
Avey's face flushes red. "I'm not - I know that! I'm not going to do that yet. My Ma says I should wait, and anyway, none of them think /I'm/ cute is the problem. But I can still look!" She quickly changes the subject. "Uh, yeah, so how come your dragon makes you stay on the sands all the time and never leave unless she's asleep?"
Fayre watches as Avey turns the colour of a redfruit; first somewhat amused, but then compassion creeps in and the weyrwoman smiles apologetically. "Oh, now now. No need to be embarrassed. Was just a friendly reminder. And hey! I'm sure plenty o' boys do." Despite the goldrider's own embarassment, she just can't help but add, "An' if you impress a dragon, well. We all know what happens with flights, eh?" But then Fayre's kind enough to switch to Avey's next topic of conversation. "Ah, she's still rather protective and enthusiastic about her eggs. I don't /have/ to stick around as much as I do, but I figure I might as well until she's more comfortable and at ease, y'know?"
Avey snorts. "They don't," she insists, but nods her head to the flight question. She shows NO inclination to have a conversation about THAT, though. "Oh. That makes sense I guess. It just seems weird, because most of the time riders don't have to be right there with their dragons unless the dragons are babies."
Fayre appears to suddenly remember that, hey, she's here to bathe! She reaches behind her, feeling around some to find a scrub brush and jar of soapsand, and then vigorously sets about getting rid of any trespassing grains of sand clinging to her skin. Luckily the weyrwoman can somewhat multitask and continues to chat away as she scrubs. "Well, when they have their own babies they get real clingy again. Ask D'kai sometime if you're curious. Mikhuth is worse than Lieryth when it comes to that. They just get proud and a tad protective, y'see. But Lieryth and I have always had a good, flexible bond. Just don't want to stress her, since it's her first clutch an' all, even though I'm sure she could take me being apart from her." She wraps up her speedy bathing process, concluding it with a rather loud and big yawn. She has no hand to cover it, either, as she's holding both the jar and the brush. "Mmm. Seems I better have a nap myself, eh? It was nice to meet you. Hope to see ya around, candidate." She pulls herself up out of the pools, hastily depositing her used tools in the appropriate area. She picks up her pink sarong, shaking it out some before putting it on, and heads back into the caverns.
Avey waves. "Goodbye, Weyrwoman. It was nice to meet you," she chirps, and then goes back to happily soaking in the pool.
A permanent cloud of steam envelops the bathing caverns, giving everything inside a misty sheen. Condensation constantly trickles down the stone walls of the caverns and the floors are often slick from the wet feet of bathers. A large red curtain, faded by years of water wear, splits the area in half. One side of it is designated for changing and as such is lined with benches and cubbies for storing clothes while people bathe. Shelves are carved into the walls above where jars of soap and sweetsand await use. Scrubbers and hand towels are also strewn around the shelves, should anyone not have their own.
The bath itself takes up the other portion of the room, one large, warm pool with a submerged lip around the edge for lounging. Benches line the damp walls for various odds and ends or someone who'd just like to enjoy the steam. Hooks are placed at regular intervals for towels to await their bathers. Two large bins are placed at the curtain's edge: one is filled with clean, fluffy towels, the other with used towels to be taken away by the laundresses.
Contents:
Avey
Obvious exits:
Lower Caverns
Avey is sitting in the bathing pool, leaning up against the side, having a soak. Her expression is positively blissful.
A very tired looking Fayre shuffles in from the lower caverns. Her usual bright pink sarong is blemished by grains of sticky black sand, a testament to the rider's time spent on the hatching sands with her dragon. Thus it's quickly abandoned in the change area in favour of bathing attire and the junior weyrwoman is eager to slip into the hot waters of the bathing pool, though she's still wary of the slick stone floors as she approaches the edge of the water.
Avey is roused from her drowsy state by the little wave Fayre's entrance to the pool causes, and she sits up straight when she sees who it is. "Hello, Weyrwoman," she says politely. "Here, you can have this spot; it's got a jet." She moves to the side to give Fayre the better spot.
Avey
Avey's boyishly short copper-colored hair always has a windswept look to it, no matter how recently it's been combed. She has small, dainty ears, a square jaw, a large nose, rosebud lips, and wide grey eyes: her features are as mismatched as if someone had chosen them at random from a bin and stuck them on her face. Certainly not pretty, her face is interesting enough that she's not quite ugly either. Her mannerisms betray her shyness - she's as likely to duck her head and slump her shoulders as meet someone's eyes. She's short, only about five foot two, with a sticklike figure and a flat chest.
Avey is wearing an off-white colored tunic with a pattern embroidered at the sleeves and neck in bright blue thread. Her trousers are a blueish-grey color, a soft weave that looks very comfortable and airy. The sandals on her feet are plain, and rather worn and battered.
Avey is about 15 turns old.
Fayre sighs softly as she gently slips into the steamy water. Noticing she has company, she murmurs, "Nothin' better after a long day, wouldn't ya say? 'cept maybe a drink in the Sandbar, but eh. Right now, this beats even that." The goldrider waves a dismissive, lazy hand as she settles into her spot against the wall. "Oh, no no. Keep your own spot, lass. I'm just hear to soak, not invade other people's places. Least not those belonging to strangers. If I knew ya, I might kick ya out, citing a back ache thanks to shifting eggs around constantly. Oy, Lieryth is a doting one." Her speech shifts from one topic to the next without much of a pause.
"You have to stay out there on the sands all that time, it's the least I can do," Avey insists, not budging from her new spot. "My name is Avey. I'm one of the candidates."
Fayre is equally stubborn and further settles into her own spot, firmly shutting her eyes as if to prove she refuses to budge. But then her eyelids are shooting open again upon the news that she's sitting next to a candidate. In her excitement, she shuffles over to the offered seat, completely forgetting about the previous debate. "Oh! Are ya really? What do ya think so far? Y'got great candidate leaders this time, I can tell ya that. Xie and Balinne are old friends o' mine."
"X'lar is very nice," Avey says, and leaves it at that. "I don't like the chores very much. I don't see why those of us who already had a job can't just do that job: I'm good at message running, but not at minding kids or cooking. But," she concludes with a shrug, "it's only for a few weeks, and my Ma says anyone can put up with anything for a few weeks."
"Ah, I thought the same thing when I was a candidate y'know, 'caused I worked in the kitchens myself." Fayre admits with a shrug, but she carefully adds, "But it really did come in handy when I was a weyrling, I promise ya. So don't go rantin' to Xie or Balinne sayin' I said it's all useless, 'cause it really ain't." She turns towards Avey, resting her right shoulder on the stone wall in order to directly face her. "Plus! When the eggs get hard enough, which should be pretty soon, y'guys can start havin' egg touchings. Lieryth is real keen for y'all to visit with her eggs, so it should be pretty easy to get everyone on the sands."
Avey perks right up. "Ooooh, that'll be exciting. When will they be hard enough? And how long will it be before they hatch, do you think?" she asks eagerly.
Now Fayre gets a little nervous, evidenced by the slightest of blushes appearing on her cheeks. "Oh, well. Um. I'm not sure, really. I'll ask Lieryth when she's awake. Nappin' right now, y'see, which is how I snuck away to come have a soak. Otherwise I'd still be there shiftin' eggs about. Maybe...um, a sevenday? And don't hold me to that! Couple months before they hatch, I would think. I'm /awful/ with timelines, sadly." Her chestnut eyes flick about as if searching for a new topic of conversation. She shifts subjects just slightly, asking, "Have any favourites yet?"
"That long?" Avey's face falls. "It seems way too long to wait. Um, favorites? Not really. They just look like eggs to me, you know? Maybe I'll get a favorite when we touch the eggs. I wonder if the dragons in the eggs know we're out there, touching them, what do you think, weyrwoman?"
"Ah, it'll go fast, trust me. Once you get into the rhythm of chores, you'll be dodging' little dragons on the sands in no time." Fayre explains, a knowing smile playing on her face. Her expression shifts to a more contemplative one, and she thinks for a few moments before replying. "Mmm. I suppose it is hard to get a real sense of them from the galleries. And aye, I definitely think they know when candidates are on the sands. When you get out there for an egg touchin' you'll probably get that sense too. Who else is a candidate this go-round? Any bad snorers?"
"Oh, lots of people. But it's weird, there's way more girls than boys. They need to go and find us some boys," Avey opines. "Cute ones, preferably! I mean, if there are any bronzes, they'll need cute boys to impress to." She grins.
Fayre taps the side of her head, perhaps trying to stir up memories of her own candidacy. "I think it was a pretty even split in my group. Hmm. An' don't worry, impressions usually have a way o' workin' out." She smiles reassuringly before twisting back into a more comfortable position with her back, rather than elbow, to the wall. "An' don't think boys are /too/ cute. Y'have candidacy an' maybe weyrlinghood to go through after that with the whole no sex rule." Her tone takes on a somewhat blunt, but still motherly, tone towards the end of her warning.
Avey's face flushes red. "I'm not - I know that! I'm not going to do that yet. My Ma says I should wait, and anyway, none of them think /I'm/ cute is the problem. But I can still look!" She quickly changes the subject. "Uh, yeah, so how come your dragon makes you stay on the sands all the time and never leave unless she's asleep?"
Fayre watches as Avey turns the colour of a redfruit; first somewhat amused, but then compassion creeps in and the weyrwoman smiles apologetically. "Oh, now now. No need to be embarrassed. Was just a friendly reminder. And hey! I'm sure plenty o' boys do." Despite the goldrider's own embarassment, she just can't help but add, "An' if you impress a dragon, well. We all know what happens with flights, eh?" But then Fayre's kind enough to switch to Avey's next topic of conversation. "Ah, she's still rather protective and enthusiastic about her eggs. I don't /have/ to stick around as much as I do, but I figure I might as well until she's more comfortable and at ease, y'know?"
Avey snorts. "They don't," she insists, but nods her head to the flight question. She shows NO inclination to have a conversation about THAT, though. "Oh. That makes sense I guess. It just seems weird, because most of the time riders don't have to be right there with their dragons unless the dragons are babies."
Fayre appears to suddenly remember that, hey, she's here to bathe! She reaches behind her, feeling around some to find a scrub brush and jar of soapsand, and then vigorously sets about getting rid of any trespassing grains of sand clinging to her skin. Luckily the weyrwoman can somewhat multitask and continues to chat away as she scrubs. "Well, when they have their own babies they get real clingy again. Ask D'kai sometime if you're curious. Mikhuth is worse than Lieryth when it comes to that. They just get proud and a tad protective, y'see. But Lieryth and I have always had a good, flexible bond. Just don't want to stress her, since it's her first clutch an' all, even though I'm sure she could take me being apart from her." She wraps up her speedy bathing process, concluding it with a rather loud and big yawn. She has no hand to cover it, either, as she's holding both the jar and the brush. "Mmm. Seems I better have a nap myself, eh? It was nice to meet you. Hope to see ya around, candidate." She pulls herself up out of the pools, hastily depositing her used tools in the appropriate area. She picks up her pink sarong, shaking it out some before putting it on, and heads back into the caverns.
Avey waves. "Goodbye, Weyrwoman. It was nice to meet you," she chirps, and then goes back to happily soaking in the pool.