Relentless & Determined.
IC Date: Day 18, Month 6, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Essdara, Vanya, T'ral & Br'ce
Location: Baths
Synopsis: A much chastised Vanya has her mood lightened by helping Essdara wash her hair, while a couple of D'ven's friends invade the baths. Some laughs, some talking, and Vanya finds out that D'ven has a steady girl named Suzannah. (This scene takes place immediately after A Question of Humility.)
Baths, Late Evening
The bathing cavern is divided into a number of large pools, each spacious enough for ten to fifteen people. There is one cold-water pool with the remainder being given over to water warm enough to fill the air with swirling clouds of steam. Each pool has been tiled in blue and white and boasts benches along the sides to allow people to sit and soak. Alcoves in the walls have been hollowed out to provide places to store clean, dry towels and various other bathing paraphernalia.
The corners of the room have been decorated with potted ferns, brought here from Ista Island. They are pampered and fussed over by the staff who keep the baths clean and stocked. The plants provide a cheerful splash of color in an otherwise pale and steamy cavern.
Essdara sighs, softly, and relaxes some as the other girl leaves. She, too, is quiet for a long while though, her thoughts chaotic and unsettled. Finally, though, she turns to Vanya with a thin smile. "Really, Vanya, it's not your fault. Aida and I, we've never properly gotten along, even when we were best friends. Some people are just not meant to interact, and I fear she and I are in that group. It's my fault for not leaving when I realised it was her who had joined me, but I futilly hoped we could at least share a bath without arguing. I am very sorry you got caught in it."
Vanya opens her eyes, looks over at Dara. "Don't worry about it, please. It was an awkward moment, with neither of us in our most shining moment. I take my share of the blame, Dara, so let's just forget it happened. I learned a valuable lesson, and you're kind to try and take the sting from it, but it's really all right." She smiles, and it's genuine. "You're such a goose, too. I can't wait to see you at the dance. Have you washed your hair yet?"
Essdara makes a face. "I won't argue anymore, but I still don't think you said anything wrong." Sulk. Complete with the slightly stuck out bottom lip. But, her mentioning of the dance manages to more than erase the petulance. "I hope I can live up to your expectations, Van. I am rather looking forward to trying." A shift around to be sitting next to Vanya. "And no, I haven't. I was trying to relax and stop being sore before tackling that, and I don't think I've managed that at all. Tell me about the ribbon you've decided on, and just what you plan to do with it?"
Vanya laughs, splashing water in her friend's direction as she moves across the pool to her basket. "All right, then, time for you to learn the difference between soapsand and real shampoo," she says, grinning. "Come here, my dear, and put yourself in my most capable hands." She pours some of the creamy liquid in her hands, grinning as she moves across one of the smaller pools. "Just relax, now. I'm a healer, remember? And you said yourself I have wonderful hands. Trust me, girl, you'll never use sand again." She laughs, the sound echoing in the mostly deserted baths. "D'ven seemed to like his massage when I lost a wager with him earlier, so you're going to love what I can really do to relieve tensions."
A soft laugh from the cook. Time has passed since Vanya joined her in the pool, and the baths have quieted noticibly. As night has fallen, and people are starting to make their way to bed, the caverns are slowly emptying. Amused, and entirely too eager, Dara follows the healer across the pool. Her voice takes on an almost purring quality as she replies to her friend, "I have no doubt about the wonder of your hands, or in my trusting myself to them, and you know it." Settling down in front of Vanya, she presents her back. Still, there is a slight tensing at the later words. "D'ven, hmm? No, I don't imagine he would have any objections to something like that. What was the wager?"
With a clatter, the baths are invaded. Can these riders ever do anything quietly? T'ral and Br'ce bring with them a blast of cold air and a heap of noise, the former roaring with laughter at some unheard remark. "I dunno, man. I don't think we can twist any tighter than that. You're going to want a bluerider, or a green. Get that T'zen of yours out of the infirmary, he's a mad bastard, he'll do it." The door shuts, and the bulky brownrider sets a course for one of the benches along the wall so he can begin pulling off his jacket, glancing over his shoulder for his friend. He's fallen silent, though -- perhaps he's caught someone's name.
Br'ce says, "I like it. I don't think we're going to get payoffs in the first few Falls, not immediately. It will still be too unnatural. But, just think--if they can pull it off." Br'ce looks animate and cheerful. "I think I really am going to try to persuade T'zen to transfer. Or maybe induce E'sere to trade him. All we need is someone who can pull it off and make it look easy, and then. Bam!" One fist smacks enthusiastically into the opposite palm as he follows in T'ral's wake, starting to strip off his own clothing. Oblivious, quite naturally, to any conversation that might already be proceeding."
"Oh, we met up this afternoon in the bowl, and I mentioned I wanted to see a weyr," Vanya replies, her voice lowering now that she hears others coming in. She carefully positions herself so that Dara will hide her as she begins to pour some pleasantly smelling liquid from a bottle. She, too, has heard recognizable names. T'zen. E'sere. Thank goodness for heavy steam. Preserves the modesty so nicely. "So, he took me up to his weyr, and showed me a card trick. I foolishly thought I could figure it out, and made a bet with him. If I could, I got a bottle of his mead -- good stuff, that, but a bit strong for a first time drinker -- and if I couldn't, he got a massage. I lost." She laughs. "It was kind of nice working on a healthy body for a change."
An indignant sound from Dara, "My body is perfectly healthy, just sore!" Is her entirely too defensive answer. Voices are heard, but ignored, even if the names invovled do catch at her ear. "And something to learn now... Never bet with a rider. Especially if their dragon is brown. Or worse, bronze. Entirely too clever, the lot of them. But it sounds like a pleasant enough visit, all told." A soft sniff, and her voice turns curious, "What is that smell? Almost flowery, but not quite? Kind of like one of those smelly perfumes some of the holder girls wear when they want to catch some boy's attention."
T'ral, following dictates that rule the actions of men everywhere, dumps his jacket on the ground, thumping down on the bench so he can double over to begin pulling at his bootlaces. "You should trade for him when he's up and moving, he's exactly what you want." Brief, contemplative silence. "Well, in terms of getting this thing done. Maybe not so much in terms of discipline." But disciplining a wing is not T'ral's problem, and there's a snicker in his tone for his friend's fate.
Br'ce absently picks up T'ral's jacket, folding it neatly and placing it in the cubbyhole beside his own. "No, now's the time to trade. While he can't run to E'sere to complain about it, and while E'sere has much to gain from getting an able-bodied rider." There's a devious grin spared for his friend. Boots are pulled off, tucked neatly under the bench, and shirt unbuttoned and folded. Everything in its proper place. "Hey, if he doesn't behave, I'll just make D'ven sit on him until he does. And have Teraneth do the same for Uneth. There's great advantages to having him as a wingsecond, you know."
"It's lavender-based with lanolin," Vanya explains. "The flowery smell is crushed blossoms, and the creamy, smooth texture is from the natural oils and emollients. They condition the hair, give it shine and body. You have such pretty hair, Dara. You should take care of it. I also make soaps from the oils and -- I know this sounds gross -- lard. Much nicer for the skin than soapsand. Not all that expensive to make, but somewhat time consuming. Smells better cooking than numbweed, I can promise you that!" She playfully ducks Essdara under the water, laughing, and trying not to be concerned there are men in the bath while she's ... well, naked. Ah, those holder morals. Once Dara emerges, she quickly starts lathering her hair.
Essdara is dunked, but doesn't seem to mind. A moment later she surfaces, leaning back towards the healer to give her full access to her hair. "I wash it every day..." She says, with a grin. "I do my best to take care of it, but then, I'm as clueless about that as anything. They were never much for teaching nicities in the creche, and Faranth knows mother wouldn't know lavender from rosemary." A soft sigh, and a low purr. "I'll tell you what, my dear. You promise to meet me here and do this every night, and you can do anything you want to my hair. That feels simply lovely." Now at last, she is relaxing after the unpleasantness of earlier. "You said your dad taught you these things? I envy you that."
The men in the baths -- or at least the bulkier of the two -- don't seem to have registered the presence of others with any concern. Evidently weyr morals rub off, after a few turns. T'ral continues undressing, still talking cheerfully, voice echoing around the baths a little. "D'ven has a whole stack of uses, my friend." There's something sly in his tone along with amusement there, and a sidelong grin -- it's a dig of some sort, his expression announces this. Then he's peeling off his shirt and stuffing it into the cubbyhole haphazardly.
Turns of living in a weyr have softened Br'ce's morals as well. Well, it was either that or give up being clean, and he adores hygeine too much to let naked women stand in the way. And so it is that his own shirt is tucked into the cubby, T'ral's retrieved, folded, and tucked in, and pants are taken care of in a similar manner. A large white towel is wrapped around his midsection for modesty. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Br'ce announces with dignity, though a slight flush in his cheeks and the way he stalks off towards the actual bathing area reveals the impact of the dig. "Essdara. Greetings." a friendly nod is directed at the two girls as he settles into a pool with a long sigh of relaxation. "Ahhhhhh...."
"Sort of," Vanya replies. "He actually was teaching me a little, before he died. I was only six, but he kept lots of journals and all these recipes for potions, lotions and poultices. I didn't specialize in herbal work, but I did learn the proper mixtures and methods at the hall. I make all my lotions for massage, everything from liniments to those for simple relaxation. I try to make them pleasant smelling. So many people are put off by medicines by the smell alone." She laughs, then, as Dara asks her to do this every night. "And what will you do if I'm sent away? No, my dear, you will simply have to do this on your own." It's when the men enter the pool that she moves closer to Dara's back, preserving what modesty she can. "Evening, riders," she says, voice modulated and pleasant.
Essdara is more or less melted in Vanya's lap, so is easy enough to hide behind. "If you insist, I suppose, but there's nothing quite so wonderful as having your hair washed by someone you like." Eyes crack open a bit to peer at the arriving pair. "Br'ce, T'ral, hey. Long time no see, both of you. especially you, T'ral, where you been?" Her voice is relaxed, slurred a bit. "It does smell nice, Vanya, you do amazing things."
T'ral lacks his friend's modesty, and he simply grabs a towel, walking over in his wake to dump it out of splash range, and lower himself into the pool. An easy grin is unleashed on both women, and then he submerges as completely as Essdara did a moment before, resurfacing with curls plastered down in his eyes and water streaming off him. "Evening, girls." One large hand comes up to push his hair out of his eyes, leaving it spiked up. "Been good." A nod for Vanya, then. "You've got the advantage on me. T'ral, Darageth's." His hand goes out, apparently offering to shake.
Vanya's hand is covered in soapy lather as she instinctively holds it out to reciprocate the offer to shake hands. She laughs, rinses it quickly and presents it again. "Vanya, healer, and apparently Dara's new hairdresser," she introduces herself to the riders. "Advantage of you, hm? Something, apparently, most riders don't seem to mind," she adds with a sparkle to her eyes that's likely missed in the steam. "My best to your Darageth, T'ral." She returns to Dara's hair, scrubbing the scalp in gentle, firm motions of her hands, massaging as well as working the lather into the hair. "I assume, from shamelessly eavesdropping, that you are friends with T'zen? If so, he is doing much better. He should begin recuperative therapy starting tomorrow. I'm much encouraged by his rapid recovery from the relapse."
T'ral's handshake is probably a little too strong -- or maybe not, for a woman with Vanya's hand-strengthening professional interests. "Vanya," he repeats with a grin, jerking his head towards his friend. "And Br'ce, Trellazoth's." Evidently he's used to Br'ce's practice of simply busying himself with washing himself. Naked girls. Conversation. Ha! Not likely. "Our interest in T'zen's more professional. Br'ce's wing's all blue and green, bar a couple. They like stuntmen, there. I've been trying something for him today, but my Dara's just too big." A grin for Essdara there, and a correction. "Dara/geth/."
Essdara is still verbal, and still able to speak, as she enjoys the feeling of Vanya's fingers against her scalp. "T'zen won't go back to three-see." She says, thickly. "Worked too hard to get out of it, after everyone else was hurt. Bad memories, bad associations. And you'd have to pry him 'way from Tava, and that'd be cruel, never gotten to fly Fall together like they planned." A soft sigh, and she leans back more against Vanya. "Compromise, Vanya? I promise to learn, if you promise to do this for me now and then? S'very relaxing."
Vanya knows nothing of the weyr wings or their make up, so remains politely silent during the first part of Essdara's conversation to T'ral and Br'ce, he of the silent washing. Afterwards, she does inquire, "I take it that there needs to be a certain balance in wings, for proper use of strengths and weaknesses, size of dragons, and the like? Forgive my questions, but I'm new to the weyr, and would like to understand it a little better, since I'm going to be here a while, I suspect. Well, hope at least." As for the last comment from Dara, "Certainly. I want to keep getting those sausages for breakfast," she teases. "Why do you think I treat you so nice? I'm an evil healer, didn't you know? We're positively wicked with our needles and mysterious concoctions." Teasing, obviously. "Macabre and ghoulish in our pursuit to get our hands on unsuspecting victims so we can take horrid advantage of their good natures," she says with an almost sinister laugh as she dunks Dara once more, forgetting she's just robbed herself of her screen.
T'ral inclines his head -- the disastrous fate of 3C's last incarnation is not a welcome subject for many of the weyr's riders, and it would seem the brownrider is amongst them, for he steers away from it. "There's balance," T'ral agrees, casting about for soapsand as he speaks. "Wings with a one in their name are mostly bronze and brown. We do the top layers. Wings with a two are about even, and wings with a three are blue and green. They haven't got the stamina to do whole 'falls, often enough, but they're a lot more agile than we are. There's a place for everyone." Essdara's offered a grin before she goes under, but there's not a flicker of reaction as Vanya is -- shock, horror! -- left uncovered. "That's what I've always thought about healers. Eat all my vegetables, so I can keep away from you." His grin is positively cheeky.
Essdara opens her mouth to reply, probably with some lascivious comment to just by her expression, but instead, she's drowned. A moment after she's released she's surfaced, coughing and spluttering. "Van!" She says, indignantly. Another bit of coughing, but she gets her breathing back after a moment. "Evil, indeed! T'ral, take note to stay away from this one, ok?"
Vanya chuckles, paying no attention to her nudity for once. "Ah, a wise plan, and may I never see you on oe of my beds, for truly I would poke, prod and eagerly subject you to all manner of vile and despicable things. Best avoid us at all costs! -- which, frankly, would suit me best. Contrary to popular belief, most of us really would prefer to sit back with our feet up on tables, idle and not up to our elbows with injured." Her own smile is sincere at the last. Laughs as Dara comes up sputtering. "And here you thought I was such a sweet person just fifteen minutes ago! I'm shocked. I have fallen from my pedestal! Oh, woe -- it is a sausageless breakfast for me, I can see this now. Alas, alack!" She puts the back of one hand to her forehead, feigning sorrow. But the moment doesn't last. "Now you know. Never trust a smiling healer. We're evil, I tell you, evil incarnate." But she gives the girl a quick hug and reaches for another bottle. "This is conditioner, and makes it silky and manageable. No more ducking, I promise," she says, applying it. "That placement seems logical, T'ral," she comments to him. "I wondered what the numbering meant. Thanks for explaining. I keep telling D'ven I'm relentless and determined when I take advantage of riders for their knowledge. He doesn't seem to believe me."
T'ral simply pulls a face for Vanya's assurances about her own evil nature, one large hand hooking in a container of sweetsand. No shampoo or conditioner for him -- perhaps keeping his curls silky and manageable isn't at the top of his list -- for he simply lathers up a handful of the sand after an experimental sniff, and dumps it on his head. "You keep teling D'ven?" His brows rise in a wordless request for information.
Essdara just laughs, shifting back to where she aws earlier after the hug, leaning against her. "Oh, you will still get your breakfast, my dear, never fear. My revenge, when it comes, will be far quieter and less obvious than that." She tilts her head back more to be able to see Vanya, with an impish smile. "And I promise, it'll be undreamed of." Head rises again to turn that mischivious smile on T'ral. "She learned the hard way never to bet against a bronzerider, when his weyr is the destination."
"Yes," Vanya replies to that wordless request. "He was the one who brought me from Fort, and has been kind enough to let me take horrible advantage of his good nature. He's been very kind to answer questions, show me a weyr, and, well, just make things a little easier to understand. I warned him he would regret it, because I can be relentless and determined when it comes to finding answers for my questions," she explains. "It's been very interesting. And, yes, I have learned that, and not to drink mead quickly and then stand up. I'm afraid I got a little light-headed and nearly fell. Would have, if he hadn't caught me. It was kind of embarrassing, all told. I, of all people, should have known better. It's just that the mead didn't taste like alcohol." A smile to Dara. "I'm afraid. Very afraid," she teases, working the conditoner into the hair. "Now, let it sit a moment, then rinse." She steps back from Dara, sinking into the water.
"I have always found," T'ral observes with a deadpan expression -- only the laughter in his brown eyes is there to give him away -- that D'ven is always available when a girl would like to take advantage of his good nature." With a grin, he disappears underwater once more, hair flattened and clear of suds when he resurfaces. A swipe of one hand gets it out of his eyes. "You can trust anything that comes out of Susannah, D'ven's stuff is only the best."
Essdara sticks her tongue out at Vanya, and scoots over to the ede of the pool. "Oh, you should be, Vanya. You very much should be." She looks over to T'ral, with a soft laugh. "You just described every bronzerider, and most of the other riders, I have ever met, dear. But, this D'ven sounds interesting, and anyone who you and Br'ce, and Vanya of course, speak so highly of is someone I think I should know."
Vanya nods, letting herself relax under the warm water. "A trait common to riders, so I'm told," she says, her eyes slipping closed. "Thus putting paid to some of the warnings I was given by a girl at the Hall who told me to expect to be alternately ignored, treated rudely and forced into a life of near-slavery at the whims of riders." She chuckles. "Among worse fates. I have found that a total exaggeration, so far, though I'm aware there are many personalities in the weyr. At this point, I find myself interested and intrigued by the entire nature of weyrlife, and find it a vast improvement over the hold life I grew up in." She settles down, a soft smile on her lips. "A very refreshing change, for the most part. At least here, the people I've met appear to think and to listen." To Dara, she adds, "He's been very nice to me. Not at all what I expected, according to the stories I hear from Dialla."
"Of course I speak highly of him," T'ral agrees, subsiding against the edge of the pool now he's made a token effort at getting himself clean. Br'ce adds his endorsement, but quietly -- he's retiring, as talk turns to morals, and makes his excuses as he leaves. "We're clutchmates." Not to mention inveterate drinking and gambling buddies. "You come out of that experience together, you're bonded for life." Vanya earns herself an easy grin. "There are many personalities everywhere you go. Weyr's no worse than anywhere else." And then, because it's what friends do for friends, "D'ven's a good one to chase down for answers. He's seen two, and plenty of Pern besides."
Essdara chuckles softly. "I imagine I would likely be just as overwhelmed on a hold. Well, for a few days, before they caught me and stoned me or something." She looks to T'ral, and the mischief returns, "D'ven sounds like a lot of fun, and very knowledgable. Clutchmates, you say? How did you both come to be here, so far from Benden?" Answer is forestalled - it's been long enough, and she ducks under the waer to scrub out the lotion Vanya has put there.
Apparently Vanya agrees with that assessment of D'ven, since she gives a perfunctory nod to Dara. "You'd like him, I think. Very polite, a perfect gentleman. There are Lord Holders who could take a lesson in manners from him, in my opinion." She then cants her head in T'ral's direction. "Sussanah? I thought D'ven said he brewed the mead himself. Was this Susannah his mentor at the craft hall, then? If so, she must be a master. The mead was delicious. So smooth and flavorful. I was hoping to win the bet so I could get a bottle of it, but I lost. I shall have to think of another way to pry a bottle from him. A trade, since I have few marks. Perhaps I'll have him teach me dragon poker so I can win some marks."
"We like you just where you are, Essdara," T'ral informs the woman before she disappears underwater, producing a friendly leer that's got no real bite behind it. His answer to her question waits until she surfaces, and in the meantime he turns his grin on Vanya. "Susannah's his girl." Sometimes, friends do this for friends, as well. "She's something special, he's crazy about her. You just say a word or two, you'll set him off." His smile is almost indulgent as he lays those mines for his friend to tread on later. "You get him to teach you poker, though. I'm sure he'll oblige."
A snort towards T'ral, and a too-sweet smile, "I like where I am, too, T'ral. Over here." She brushes hands across her hair, pushing water off, and looking over towards Vanya. "Dragonpoker's always looked like a lot of fun. Seen it played a lot, but never had the courage to ask to be taught. So there, you've got one up on me." Still, a slight quiet falls on her, and once more she relaxes into the hot water to let her friends chat.
If the fact that D'ven has, apparently, a steady girl he's never mentioned doesn't reflect in that peaceful, calm, composed face. Vanya nods. "She sounds like a nice person, and she's certainly gifted when it comes to brewing. He has quite a collection of bottles in his weyr. I do hope she's not upset he took me to his weyr and gave him a massage. It was, after all, totally above-board." It's not a defensive tone, merely factual. "I look forward to meeting her. Will she be at the party?" she inquires. "And, may I ask if you know I'sen? I'm concerned about his hand. I was hoping to ask Br'ce but he left before I thought about it. I was the one who stitched him up, but I haven't seen him to make sure he's following orders."
"Nah, Suse is fine. She takes up a lot of his time, but they've got, you know." One of T'ral's big hands breaks the surface of the pool to gesture vaguely. "It's a special relationship." At the mention of I'sen, he laughs, shaking his head as he begins to rise. "I'll round him up and send him back to you. I can guarantee he's not doing whatever you told him. Put some fear into him, if you want him listening. Tell him something important'll drop off." With a wink for that advice, he's clear of the water, and claiming his towel. "I'll give you both a poker lesson after dinner one night, if you like. Better chance of beating D'ven if he didn't teach you all your tricks." And, with a final grin for the pair, he's off, back to where his neatly folded clothes await.
Essdara offers a quiet wave to T'ral. "G'night, T'ral. Say hi to Ginella for me." A slightly impish smile to the rider. "It was nice to see you again, and I would very much enjoy those lessons, if you've the time." A look over to Vanya, but this time, she says nothing to the other woman. Silence settles down around them as T'ral makes his exit.
"I plan to, if he's damaged that hand," Vanya retorts. "I said I should get a whip and take it to him. I may just have to do it for real. Or, I do know a few pressure points that can --" She stops, a positively devilish expression on her face. "Nevermind, I know just how to handle him." The expression clearly says the kid gloves are off if that hand isn't up to snuff in her book. She looks up and quickly away as T'ral rises, then back as he puts on his towel. "I'll take you up on the lessons as well, T'ral. I'd very much like to be the recipient of that bottle next time." She laughs, and it's one that bodes not well for I'sen or D'ven. "Relentless and determined. He was warned, fair and square, after all." And she laughs again. "Clear skies, T'ral. My best to your Darageth." And she closes her eyes again, that /smile/ on her lips not quite fading.
Players: Essdara, Vanya, T'ral & Br'ce
Location: Baths
Synopsis: A much chastised Vanya has her mood lightened by helping Essdara wash her hair, while a couple of D'ven's friends invade the baths. Some laughs, some talking, and Vanya finds out that D'ven has a steady girl named Suzannah. (This scene takes place immediately after A Question of Humility.)
Baths, Late Evening
The bathing cavern is divided into a number of large pools, each spacious enough for ten to fifteen people. There is one cold-water pool with the remainder being given over to water warm enough to fill the air with swirling clouds of steam. Each pool has been tiled in blue and white and boasts benches along the sides to allow people to sit and soak. Alcoves in the walls have been hollowed out to provide places to store clean, dry towels and various other bathing paraphernalia.
The corners of the room have been decorated with potted ferns, brought here from Ista Island. They are pampered and fussed over by the staff who keep the baths clean and stocked. The plants provide a cheerful splash of color in an otherwise pale and steamy cavern.
Essdara sighs, softly, and relaxes some as the other girl leaves. She, too, is quiet for a long while though, her thoughts chaotic and unsettled. Finally, though, she turns to Vanya with a thin smile. "Really, Vanya, it's not your fault. Aida and I, we've never properly gotten along, even when we were best friends. Some people are just not meant to interact, and I fear she and I are in that group. It's my fault for not leaving when I realised it was her who had joined me, but I futilly hoped we could at least share a bath without arguing. I am very sorry you got caught in it."
Vanya opens her eyes, looks over at Dara. "Don't worry about it, please. It was an awkward moment, with neither of us in our most shining moment. I take my share of the blame, Dara, so let's just forget it happened. I learned a valuable lesson, and you're kind to try and take the sting from it, but it's really all right." She smiles, and it's genuine. "You're such a goose, too. I can't wait to see you at the dance. Have you washed your hair yet?"
Essdara makes a face. "I won't argue anymore, but I still don't think you said anything wrong." Sulk. Complete with the slightly stuck out bottom lip. But, her mentioning of the dance manages to more than erase the petulance. "I hope I can live up to your expectations, Van. I am rather looking forward to trying." A shift around to be sitting next to Vanya. "And no, I haven't. I was trying to relax and stop being sore before tackling that, and I don't think I've managed that at all. Tell me about the ribbon you've decided on, and just what you plan to do with it?"
Vanya laughs, splashing water in her friend's direction as she moves across the pool to her basket. "All right, then, time for you to learn the difference between soapsand and real shampoo," she says, grinning. "Come here, my dear, and put yourself in my most capable hands." She pours some of the creamy liquid in her hands, grinning as she moves across one of the smaller pools. "Just relax, now. I'm a healer, remember? And you said yourself I have wonderful hands. Trust me, girl, you'll never use sand again." She laughs, the sound echoing in the mostly deserted baths. "D'ven seemed to like his massage when I lost a wager with him earlier, so you're going to love what I can really do to relieve tensions."
A soft laugh from the cook. Time has passed since Vanya joined her in the pool, and the baths have quieted noticibly. As night has fallen, and people are starting to make their way to bed, the caverns are slowly emptying. Amused, and entirely too eager, Dara follows the healer across the pool. Her voice takes on an almost purring quality as she replies to her friend, "I have no doubt about the wonder of your hands, or in my trusting myself to them, and you know it." Settling down in front of Vanya, she presents her back. Still, there is a slight tensing at the later words. "D'ven, hmm? No, I don't imagine he would have any objections to something like that. What was the wager?"
With a clatter, the baths are invaded. Can these riders ever do anything quietly? T'ral and Br'ce bring with them a blast of cold air and a heap of noise, the former roaring with laughter at some unheard remark. "I dunno, man. I don't think we can twist any tighter than that. You're going to want a bluerider, or a green. Get that T'zen of yours out of the infirmary, he's a mad bastard, he'll do it." The door shuts, and the bulky brownrider sets a course for one of the benches along the wall so he can begin pulling off his jacket, glancing over his shoulder for his friend. He's fallen silent, though -- perhaps he's caught someone's name.
Br'ce says, "I like it. I don't think we're going to get payoffs in the first few Falls, not immediately. It will still be too unnatural. But, just think--if they can pull it off." Br'ce looks animate and cheerful. "I think I really am going to try to persuade T'zen to transfer. Or maybe induce E'sere to trade him. All we need is someone who can pull it off and make it look easy, and then. Bam!" One fist smacks enthusiastically into the opposite palm as he follows in T'ral's wake, starting to strip off his own clothing. Oblivious, quite naturally, to any conversation that might already be proceeding."
"Oh, we met up this afternoon in the bowl, and I mentioned I wanted to see a weyr," Vanya replies, her voice lowering now that she hears others coming in. She carefully positions herself so that Dara will hide her as she begins to pour some pleasantly smelling liquid from a bottle. She, too, has heard recognizable names. T'zen. E'sere. Thank goodness for heavy steam. Preserves the modesty so nicely. "So, he took me up to his weyr, and showed me a card trick. I foolishly thought I could figure it out, and made a bet with him. If I could, I got a bottle of his mead -- good stuff, that, but a bit strong for a first time drinker -- and if I couldn't, he got a massage. I lost." She laughs. "It was kind of nice working on a healthy body for a change."
An indignant sound from Dara, "My body is perfectly healthy, just sore!" Is her entirely too defensive answer. Voices are heard, but ignored, even if the names invovled do catch at her ear. "And something to learn now... Never bet with a rider. Especially if their dragon is brown. Or worse, bronze. Entirely too clever, the lot of them. But it sounds like a pleasant enough visit, all told." A soft sniff, and her voice turns curious, "What is that smell? Almost flowery, but not quite? Kind of like one of those smelly perfumes some of the holder girls wear when they want to catch some boy's attention."
T'ral, following dictates that rule the actions of men everywhere, dumps his jacket on the ground, thumping down on the bench so he can double over to begin pulling at his bootlaces. "You should trade for him when he's up and moving, he's exactly what you want." Brief, contemplative silence. "Well, in terms of getting this thing done. Maybe not so much in terms of discipline." But disciplining a wing is not T'ral's problem, and there's a snicker in his tone for his friend's fate.
Br'ce absently picks up T'ral's jacket, folding it neatly and placing it in the cubbyhole beside his own. "No, now's the time to trade. While he can't run to E'sere to complain about it, and while E'sere has much to gain from getting an able-bodied rider." There's a devious grin spared for his friend. Boots are pulled off, tucked neatly under the bench, and shirt unbuttoned and folded. Everything in its proper place. "Hey, if he doesn't behave, I'll just make D'ven sit on him until he does. And have Teraneth do the same for Uneth. There's great advantages to having him as a wingsecond, you know."
"It's lavender-based with lanolin," Vanya explains. "The flowery smell is crushed blossoms, and the creamy, smooth texture is from the natural oils and emollients. They condition the hair, give it shine and body. You have such pretty hair, Dara. You should take care of it. I also make soaps from the oils and -- I know this sounds gross -- lard. Much nicer for the skin than soapsand. Not all that expensive to make, but somewhat time consuming. Smells better cooking than numbweed, I can promise you that!" She playfully ducks Essdara under the water, laughing, and trying not to be concerned there are men in the bath while she's ... well, naked. Ah, those holder morals. Once Dara emerges, she quickly starts lathering her hair.
Essdara is dunked, but doesn't seem to mind. A moment later she surfaces, leaning back towards the healer to give her full access to her hair. "I wash it every day..." She says, with a grin. "I do my best to take care of it, but then, I'm as clueless about that as anything. They were never much for teaching nicities in the creche, and Faranth knows mother wouldn't know lavender from rosemary." A soft sigh, and a low purr. "I'll tell you what, my dear. You promise to meet me here and do this every night, and you can do anything you want to my hair. That feels simply lovely." Now at last, she is relaxing after the unpleasantness of earlier. "You said your dad taught you these things? I envy you that."
The men in the baths -- or at least the bulkier of the two -- don't seem to have registered the presence of others with any concern. Evidently weyr morals rub off, after a few turns. T'ral continues undressing, still talking cheerfully, voice echoing around the baths a little. "D'ven has a whole stack of uses, my friend." There's something sly in his tone along with amusement there, and a sidelong grin -- it's a dig of some sort, his expression announces this. Then he's peeling off his shirt and stuffing it into the cubbyhole haphazardly.
Turns of living in a weyr have softened Br'ce's morals as well. Well, it was either that or give up being clean, and he adores hygeine too much to let naked women stand in the way. And so it is that his own shirt is tucked into the cubby, T'ral's retrieved, folded, and tucked in, and pants are taken care of in a similar manner. A large white towel is wrapped around his midsection for modesty. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Br'ce announces with dignity, though a slight flush in his cheeks and the way he stalks off towards the actual bathing area reveals the impact of the dig. "Essdara. Greetings." a friendly nod is directed at the two girls as he settles into a pool with a long sigh of relaxation. "Ahhhhhh...."
"Sort of," Vanya replies. "He actually was teaching me a little, before he died. I was only six, but he kept lots of journals and all these recipes for potions, lotions and poultices. I didn't specialize in herbal work, but I did learn the proper mixtures and methods at the hall. I make all my lotions for massage, everything from liniments to those for simple relaxation. I try to make them pleasant smelling. So many people are put off by medicines by the smell alone." She laughs, then, as Dara asks her to do this every night. "And what will you do if I'm sent away? No, my dear, you will simply have to do this on your own." It's when the men enter the pool that she moves closer to Dara's back, preserving what modesty she can. "Evening, riders," she says, voice modulated and pleasant.
Essdara is more or less melted in Vanya's lap, so is easy enough to hide behind. "If you insist, I suppose, but there's nothing quite so wonderful as having your hair washed by someone you like." Eyes crack open a bit to peer at the arriving pair. "Br'ce, T'ral, hey. Long time no see, both of you. especially you, T'ral, where you been?" Her voice is relaxed, slurred a bit. "It does smell nice, Vanya, you do amazing things."
T'ral lacks his friend's modesty, and he simply grabs a towel, walking over in his wake to dump it out of splash range, and lower himself into the pool. An easy grin is unleashed on both women, and then he submerges as completely as Essdara did a moment before, resurfacing with curls plastered down in his eyes and water streaming off him. "Evening, girls." One large hand comes up to push his hair out of his eyes, leaving it spiked up. "Been good." A nod for Vanya, then. "You've got the advantage on me. T'ral, Darageth's." His hand goes out, apparently offering to shake.
Vanya's hand is covered in soapy lather as she instinctively holds it out to reciprocate the offer to shake hands. She laughs, rinses it quickly and presents it again. "Vanya, healer, and apparently Dara's new hairdresser," she introduces herself to the riders. "Advantage of you, hm? Something, apparently, most riders don't seem to mind," she adds with a sparkle to her eyes that's likely missed in the steam. "My best to your Darageth, T'ral." She returns to Dara's hair, scrubbing the scalp in gentle, firm motions of her hands, massaging as well as working the lather into the hair. "I assume, from shamelessly eavesdropping, that you are friends with T'zen? If so, he is doing much better. He should begin recuperative therapy starting tomorrow. I'm much encouraged by his rapid recovery from the relapse."
T'ral's handshake is probably a little too strong -- or maybe not, for a woman with Vanya's hand-strengthening professional interests. "Vanya," he repeats with a grin, jerking his head towards his friend. "And Br'ce, Trellazoth's." Evidently he's used to Br'ce's practice of simply busying himself with washing himself. Naked girls. Conversation. Ha! Not likely. "Our interest in T'zen's more professional. Br'ce's wing's all blue and green, bar a couple. They like stuntmen, there. I've been trying something for him today, but my Dara's just too big." A grin for Essdara there, and a correction. "Dara/geth/."
Essdara is still verbal, and still able to speak, as she enjoys the feeling of Vanya's fingers against her scalp. "T'zen won't go back to three-see." She says, thickly. "Worked too hard to get out of it, after everyone else was hurt. Bad memories, bad associations. And you'd have to pry him 'way from Tava, and that'd be cruel, never gotten to fly Fall together like they planned." A soft sigh, and she leans back more against Vanya. "Compromise, Vanya? I promise to learn, if you promise to do this for me now and then? S'very relaxing."
Vanya knows nothing of the weyr wings or their make up, so remains politely silent during the first part of Essdara's conversation to T'ral and Br'ce, he of the silent washing. Afterwards, she does inquire, "I take it that there needs to be a certain balance in wings, for proper use of strengths and weaknesses, size of dragons, and the like? Forgive my questions, but I'm new to the weyr, and would like to understand it a little better, since I'm going to be here a while, I suspect. Well, hope at least." As for the last comment from Dara, "Certainly. I want to keep getting those sausages for breakfast," she teases. "Why do you think I treat you so nice? I'm an evil healer, didn't you know? We're positively wicked with our needles and mysterious concoctions." Teasing, obviously. "Macabre and ghoulish in our pursuit to get our hands on unsuspecting victims so we can take horrid advantage of their good natures," she says with an almost sinister laugh as she dunks Dara once more, forgetting she's just robbed herself of her screen.
T'ral inclines his head -- the disastrous fate of 3C's last incarnation is not a welcome subject for many of the weyr's riders, and it would seem the brownrider is amongst them, for he steers away from it. "There's balance," T'ral agrees, casting about for soapsand as he speaks. "Wings with a one in their name are mostly bronze and brown. We do the top layers. Wings with a two are about even, and wings with a three are blue and green. They haven't got the stamina to do whole 'falls, often enough, but they're a lot more agile than we are. There's a place for everyone." Essdara's offered a grin before she goes under, but there's not a flicker of reaction as Vanya is -- shock, horror! -- left uncovered. "That's what I've always thought about healers. Eat all my vegetables, so I can keep away from you." His grin is positively cheeky.
Essdara opens her mouth to reply, probably with some lascivious comment to just by her expression, but instead, she's drowned. A moment after she's released she's surfaced, coughing and spluttering. "Van!" She says, indignantly. Another bit of coughing, but she gets her breathing back after a moment. "Evil, indeed! T'ral, take note to stay away from this one, ok?"
Vanya chuckles, paying no attention to her nudity for once. "Ah, a wise plan, and may I never see you on oe of my beds, for truly I would poke, prod and eagerly subject you to all manner of vile and despicable things. Best avoid us at all costs! -- which, frankly, would suit me best. Contrary to popular belief, most of us really would prefer to sit back with our feet up on tables, idle and not up to our elbows with injured." Her own smile is sincere at the last. Laughs as Dara comes up sputtering. "And here you thought I was such a sweet person just fifteen minutes ago! I'm shocked. I have fallen from my pedestal! Oh, woe -- it is a sausageless breakfast for me, I can see this now. Alas, alack!" She puts the back of one hand to her forehead, feigning sorrow. But the moment doesn't last. "Now you know. Never trust a smiling healer. We're evil, I tell you, evil incarnate." But she gives the girl a quick hug and reaches for another bottle. "This is conditioner, and makes it silky and manageable. No more ducking, I promise," she says, applying it. "That placement seems logical, T'ral," she comments to him. "I wondered what the numbering meant. Thanks for explaining. I keep telling D'ven I'm relentless and determined when I take advantage of riders for their knowledge. He doesn't seem to believe me."
T'ral simply pulls a face for Vanya's assurances about her own evil nature, one large hand hooking in a container of sweetsand. No shampoo or conditioner for him -- perhaps keeping his curls silky and manageable isn't at the top of his list -- for he simply lathers up a handful of the sand after an experimental sniff, and dumps it on his head. "You keep teling D'ven?" His brows rise in a wordless request for information.
Essdara just laughs, shifting back to where she aws earlier after the hug, leaning against her. "Oh, you will still get your breakfast, my dear, never fear. My revenge, when it comes, will be far quieter and less obvious than that." She tilts her head back more to be able to see Vanya, with an impish smile. "And I promise, it'll be undreamed of." Head rises again to turn that mischivious smile on T'ral. "She learned the hard way never to bet against a bronzerider, when his weyr is the destination."
"Yes," Vanya replies to that wordless request. "He was the one who brought me from Fort, and has been kind enough to let me take horrible advantage of his good nature. He's been very kind to answer questions, show me a weyr, and, well, just make things a little easier to understand. I warned him he would regret it, because I can be relentless and determined when it comes to finding answers for my questions," she explains. "It's been very interesting. And, yes, I have learned that, and not to drink mead quickly and then stand up. I'm afraid I got a little light-headed and nearly fell. Would have, if he hadn't caught me. It was kind of embarrassing, all told. I, of all people, should have known better. It's just that the mead didn't taste like alcohol." A smile to Dara. "I'm afraid. Very afraid," she teases, working the conditoner into the hair. "Now, let it sit a moment, then rinse." She steps back from Dara, sinking into the water.
"I have always found," T'ral observes with a deadpan expression -- only the laughter in his brown eyes is there to give him away -- that D'ven is always available when a girl would like to take advantage of his good nature." With a grin, he disappears underwater once more, hair flattened and clear of suds when he resurfaces. A swipe of one hand gets it out of his eyes. "You can trust anything that comes out of Susannah, D'ven's stuff is only the best."
Essdara sticks her tongue out at Vanya, and scoots over to the ede of the pool. "Oh, you should be, Vanya. You very much should be." She looks over to T'ral, with a soft laugh. "You just described every bronzerider, and most of the other riders, I have ever met, dear. But, this D'ven sounds interesting, and anyone who you and Br'ce, and Vanya of course, speak so highly of is someone I think I should know."
Vanya nods, letting herself relax under the warm water. "A trait common to riders, so I'm told," she says, her eyes slipping closed. "Thus putting paid to some of the warnings I was given by a girl at the Hall who told me to expect to be alternately ignored, treated rudely and forced into a life of near-slavery at the whims of riders." She chuckles. "Among worse fates. I have found that a total exaggeration, so far, though I'm aware there are many personalities in the weyr. At this point, I find myself interested and intrigued by the entire nature of weyrlife, and find it a vast improvement over the hold life I grew up in." She settles down, a soft smile on her lips. "A very refreshing change, for the most part. At least here, the people I've met appear to think and to listen." To Dara, she adds, "He's been very nice to me. Not at all what I expected, according to the stories I hear from Dialla."
"Of course I speak highly of him," T'ral agrees, subsiding against the edge of the pool now he's made a token effort at getting himself clean. Br'ce adds his endorsement, but quietly -- he's retiring, as talk turns to morals, and makes his excuses as he leaves. "We're clutchmates." Not to mention inveterate drinking and gambling buddies. "You come out of that experience together, you're bonded for life." Vanya earns herself an easy grin. "There are many personalities everywhere you go. Weyr's no worse than anywhere else." And then, because it's what friends do for friends, "D'ven's a good one to chase down for answers. He's seen two, and plenty of Pern besides."
Essdara chuckles softly. "I imagine I would likely be just as overwhelmed on a hold. Well, for a few days, before they caught me and stoned me or something." She looks to T'ral, and the mischief returns, "D'ven sounds like a lot of fun, and very knowledgable. Clutchmates, you say? How did you both come to be here, so far from Benden?" Answer is forestalled - it's been long enough, and she ducks under the waer to scrub out the lotion Vanya has put there.
Apparently Vanya agrees with that assessment of D'ven, since she gives a perfunctory nod to Dara. "You'd like him, I think. Very polite, a perfect gentleman. There are Lord Holders who could take a lesson in manners from him, in my opinion." She then cants her head in T'ral's direction. "Sussanah? I thought D'ven said he brewed the mead himself. Was this Susannah his mentor at the craft hall, then? If so, she must be a master. The mead was delicious. So smooth and flavorful. I was hoping to win the bet so I could get a bottle of it, but I lost. I shall have to think of another way to pry a bottle from him. A trade, since I have few marks. Perhaps I'll have him teach me dragon poker so I can win some marks."
"We like you just where you are, Essdara," T'ral informs the woman before she disappears underwater, producing a friendly leer that's got no real bite behind it. His answer to her question waits until she surfaces, and in the meantime he turns his grin on Vanya. "Susannah's his girl." Sometimes, friends do this for friends, as well. "She's something special, he's crazy about her. You just say a word or two, you'll set him off." His smile is almost indulgent as he lays those mines for his friend to tread on later. "You get him to teach you poker, though. I'm sure he'll oblige."
A snort towards T'ral, and a too-sweet smile, "I like where I am, too, T'ral. Over here." She brushes hands across her hair, pushing water off, and looking over towards Vanya. "Dragonpoker's always looked like a lot of fun. Seen it played a lot, but never had the courage to ask to be taught. So there, you've got one up on me." Still, a slight quiet falls on her, and once more she relaxes into the hot water to let her friends chat.
If the fact that D'ven has, apparently, a steady girl he's never mentioned doesn't reflect in that peaceful, calm, composed face. Vanya nods. "She sounds like a nice person, and she's certainly gifted when it comes to brewing. He has quite a collection of bottles in his weyr. I do hope she's not upset he took me to his weyr and gave him a massage. It was, after all, totally above-board." It's not a defensive tone, merely factual. "I look forward to meeting her. Will she be at the party?" she inquires. "And, may I ask if you know I'sen? I'm concerned about his hand. I was hoping to ask Br'ce but he left before I thought about it. I was the one who stitched him up, but I haven't seen him to make sure he's following orders."
"Nah, Suse is fine. She takes up a lot of his time, but they've got, you know." One of T'ral's big hands breaks the surface of the pool to gesture vaguely. "It's a special relationship." At the mention of I'sen, he laughs, shaking his head as he begins to rise. "I'll round him up and send him back to you. I can guarantee he's not doing whatever you told him. Put some fear into him, if you want him listening. Tell him something important'll drop off." With a wink for that advice, he's clear of the water, and claiming his towel. "I'll give you both a poker lesson after dinner one night, if you like. Better chance of beating D'ven if he didn't teach you all your tricks." And, with a final grin for the pair, he's off, back to where his neatly folded clothes await.
Essdara offers a quiet wave to T'ral. "G'night, T'ral. Say hi to Ginella for me." A slightly impish smile to the rider. "It was nice to see you again, and I would very much enjoy those lessons, if you've the time." A look over to Vanya, but this time, she says nothing to the other woman. Silence settles down around them as T'ral makes his exit.
"I plan to, if he's damaged that hand," Vanya retorts. "I said I should get a whip and take it to him. I may just have to do it for real. Or, I do know a few pressure points that can --" She stops, a positively devilish expression on her face. "Nevermind, I know just how to handle him." The expression clearly says the kid gloves are off if that hand isn't up to snuff in her book. She looks up and quickly away as T'ral rises, then back as he puts on his towel. "I'll take you up on the lessons as well, T'ral. I'd very much like to be the recipient of that bottle next time." She laughs, and it's one that bodes not well for I'sen or D'ven. "Relentless and determined. He was warned, fair and square, after all." And she laughs again. "Clear skies, T'ral. My best to your Darageth." And she closes her eyes again, that /smile/ on her lips not quite fading.