Log: Food baby.
IC: Winter - Day 13, month 13, turn 22 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.06.15
Bailey contemplates hiding A'nas' clothes when she happens upon him taking a cooling dip in the ocean.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
Contents:
A'nas
Obvious exits:
The Beach House Plateau The Sandbar Waterfall Pool Jungles Docks
Even the winter is hot, and hotter still if you've been running. After the obligatory laps around the bowl with the rest of the weyrlings this morning, A'nas just kept on going, down the path and right on into the sea. A pile of sweaty clothes discarded above the tideline show he stopped long enough for that, and a towel dropped alongside indicates that this mid-morning dip was anticipated. Now, chest-deep, A'nas bobs with the waves and shows no signs of wanting to make this perfunctory, a quick cooling-off before heading back; on the other hand, the other two he came down with are already stumbling back towards the Weyr.
Despite it being winter, the brunette coming from the direction of the docks is dressed in a sleeveless, lightweight dress of pale blue. A light breeze coming off of the ocean, flattening the fabric against her, leaves little doubt as to what she was up to around six months ago. Bailey's almost on top of that pile of clothing before she notices it. When she does, a small grin appears as she carefully toes the pile. Perhaps of a mind to hide said articles should she discover that their owner has discarded underwear too? One can only imagine.
Unfortunately for Bailey (or fortunately, depending on one's perspective - who really wants sweaty boy boxers?), A'nas did at least keep that on, probably out of the self-consciousness still present at his age rather than because of any care for modesty. A cresting wave flattens him on his back, pushing him closer to shore. He spins in the water, spitting out a mouthful of salt, and lets the oncoming waves keep pushing him farther in when he spies someone by his clothes. He stands up when the water's waist-deep and gradually treads nearer. "Hey," he calls, recognising Bailey from several months earlier; then again, a more surprised repetition when he takes stock of the unmissable bulge. "Hey."
Odd that Bailey should look disappointed for not having found any underwear, but then again, this is Bailey. A’nas doing a fairly good shipfish impression at first goes unnoticed as the brunette looks decidedly like she might go through trouser pockets next as she hunkers down and lifts them up. Or maybe she was simply going to fold and stack them neatly. It’s the second call that has her turning her head, a brow lifting as she tries to place the face and then a wide grin breaking free, “Hello, pet.” Alluding back to a time she’d offer to collar the weyrling.
A'nas has a sunny sort of smile for Bailey, a combination of the nickname and his own relaxed lolling about. "If you're looking for change, I don't keep it there," he says, assuming that out of the options she's been going through his pockets, because it's what he would do. "You alright?" is his casual inquiry, clearly curious about her pregnancy from the way his eyes are darting but not asking outright.
“Not?” Aw shucks, her face pretends to read, although the light of amusement dancing in her eyes would suggest otherwise as she indeed sets about folding them neatly. Reaching for the shirt to do the same, Bailey paints a puzzled look into place for the query. Peering down at her belly and then over to A’nas, she nods, most solemnly, “Oh aye. Went to this turnday back there,” swivelling and gesturing somewhere off in the jungles, “Ate way too much,” now patting said curvature with a satisfied expression in place, “Now I got a food baby,” grin. Over to the weyrling, “So how about you? Heard you got a green dragon trailing around behind you these days.”
"Too obvious," A'nas explains, still about the money in the pockets. He comes out of the water fully and makes a grab for his towel before Bailey can start folding that too, a little protest at his lips: "You don't have to do that." The food baby gets a laugh, and then the boy says, "More like running off on her own, and I'm the one trailing after."
The hint of an approving smirk edges out for talk of where one should or should not keep marks. Being as how Bailey’s fingertips were just about set to the edge of the towel, there’s a short blink as it quickly disappears beyond her grasp and into A’nas’ hands. Instead they traipse over to his boots, upending each (to get the sand out of course) and lining them up neatly alongside trousers and shirt. These have probably been unconscious gestures for the protest draws a somewhat blank look at first and then a sheepish smile as her eyes drop back down to the weyrling’s possessions. Using humour to cover over whatever embarrassment she might be feeling, “It was either this or hang them up in that tree over there. But seeing as how you’re wearing your underwear,” spoilsport the pointed look sent to said garments says, “where would the fun have been in that?” A moment is taken to reflect upon the reply given about his dragon, “So…a bit like toddler then, huh? How’s that voice in your head thing going?” the cant of head suggesting this really intrigues the woman.
After giving his head a vigorous scruff with the towel, A'nas drapes it around his shoulders and gives away his own preferences for mischief: "Better to toss 'em off the docks." He has a scowl for the boots as offending objects with one word for them like a curse: "Drills." He takes a turn for the better when it comes to talking about Ihrulith, brightening. "No, not really. Maybe sorta - I mean she doesn't want to listen to what anyone says she should do, and that's kind of like a kid, I guess. But she doesn't talk like one. And half the time I don't really know what she's thinking." He starts to struggle when it comes to trying to describe her, brow furrowing. "Like now, I can tell she's up to something, but I don't know what. Probably something she shouldn't be."
Laughter spills out for the quip, “I see you’ve played this game already.” Settling onto a nearby boulder, Bailey puts her attention more fully to the weyrling as he talks of his dragon, trying to understand. If the frown is anything to go by, it’s all a little beyond her. Wrinkling her nose as she dusts sand from her hands and fluffs the lightweight fabric away from herself, “Does she get to know what’s going on in your head all the time?”
"She knows everything," comes Anil's response almost sourly, with emphasis on the final word. He shakes out his trousers, folding short-lived, and slips them back on, wet shorts and all. "I got drills and we're already late," he says, making excuses, gathering up the rest of his affairs and tucking them under his arm. "But I'll come visit you and Rio," he promises, presuming with the second name. "I've got at least three sets of clothes to throw into the water, you know." With a grin that dimples his cheeks, the weyrling dashes away, yelling over his shoulder, "Bye!"
“Doesn’t seem fair,” Bailey returns with a light frown as she watches the weyrling get dressed. Brows peak upward and a low chuckle spills out when A’nas makes a guess at whom to pair her with. Fingers lift and make a small wiggling motion in farewell, “Do that. I’m sure he’d love to hear how you’re getting along,” no denial there. Laughter follows the teen as he dashes off, “Later,” she calls and then turns her attention out to sea, not looking to be hurrying off anywhere herself, just yet.
RL: 2010.06.15
Bailey contemplates hiding A'nas' clothes when she happens upon him taking a cooling dip in the ocean.
Main Beach, Ista Weyr(#444RJ)
The coastline of black sand stretches out in either direction, tropical waters lapping ceaselessly against the subtle decline of the main beach that rests at the base of the plateau cliff. To the northeast, water from the upper pool cascades over the plateau's edge, its destination shrouded in the lush fronts of the jungle's edge and a hint of blue-tinged mist. The Sandbar, Ista's seaside tavern, stands to the south beside the long branching structure of the docks.
Contents:
A'nas
Obvious exits:
The Beach House Plateau The Sandbar Waterfall Pool Jungles Docks
Even the winter is hot, and hotter still if you've been running. After the obligatory laps around the bowl with the rest of the weyrlings this morning, A'nas just kept on going, down the path and right on into the sea. A pile of sweaty clothes discarded above the tideline show he stopped long enough for that, and a towel dropped alongside indicates that this mid-morning dip was anticipated. Now, chest-deep, A'nas bobs with the waves and shows no signs of wanting to make this perfunctory, a quick cooling-off before heading back; on the other hand, the other two he came down with are already stumbling back towards the Weyr.
Despite it being winter, the brunette coming from the direction of the docks is dressed in a sleeveless, lightweight dress of pale blue. A light breeze coming off of the ocean, flattening the fabric against her, leaves little doubt as to what she was up to around six months ago. Bailey's almost on top of that pile of clothing before she notices it. When she does, a small grin appears as she carefully toes the pile. Perhaps of a mind to hide said articles should she discover that their owner has discarded underwear too? One can only imagine.
Unfortunately for Bailey (or fortunately, depending on one's perspective - who really wants sweaty boy boxers?), A'nas did at least keep that on, probably out of the self-consciousness still present at his age rather than because of any care for modesty. A cresting wave flattens him on his back, pushing him closer to shore. He spins in the water, spitting out a mouthful of salt, and lets the oncoming waves keep pushing him farther in when he spies someone by his clothes. He stands up when the water's waist-deep and gradually treads nearer. "Hey," he calls, recognising Bailey from several months earlier; then again, a more surprised repetition when he takes stock of the unmissable bulge. "Hey."
Odd that Bailey should look disappointed for not having found any underwear, but then again, this is Bailey. A’nas doing a fairly good shipfish impression at first goes unnoticed as the brunette looks decidedly like she might go through trouser pockets next as she hunkers down and lifts them up. Or maybe she was simply going to fold and stack them neatly. It’s the second call that has her turning her head, a brow lifting as she tries to place the face and then a wide grin breaking free, “Hello, pet.” Alluding back to a time she’d offer to collar the weyrling.
A'nas has a sunny sort of smile for Bailey, a combination of the nickname and his own relaxed lolling about. "If you're looking for change, I don't keep it there," he says, assuming that out of the options she's been going through his pockets, because it's what he would do. "You alright?" is his casual inquiry, clearly curious about her pregnancy from the way his eyes are darting but not asking outright.
“Not?” Aw shucks, her face pretends to read, although the light of amusement dancing in her eyes would suggest otherwise as she indeed sets about folding them neatly. Reaching for the shirt to do the same, Bailey paints a puzzled look into place for the query. Peering down at her belly and then over to A’nas, she nods, most solemnly, “Oh aye. Went to this turnday back there,” swivelling and gesturing somewhere off in the jungles, “Ate way too much,” now patting said curvature with a satisfied expression in place, “Now I got a food baby,” grin. Over to the weyrling, “So how about you? Heard you got a green dragon trailing around behind you these days.”
"Too obvious," A'nas explains, still about the money in the pockets. He comes out of the water fully and makes a grab for his towel before Bailey can start folding that too, a little protest at his lips: "You don't have to do that." The food baby gets a laugh, and then the boy says, "More like running off on her own, and I'm the one trailing after."
The hint of an approving smirk edges out for talk of where one should or should not keep marks. Being as how Bailey’s fingertips were just about set to the edge of the towel, there’s a short blink as it quickly disappears beyond her grasp and into A’nas’ hands. Instead they traipse over to his boots, upending each (to get the sand out of course) and lining them up neatly alongside trousers and shirt. These have probably been unconscious gestures for the protest draws a somewhat blank look at first and then a sheepish smile as her eyes drop back down to the weyrling’s possessions. Using humour to cover over whatever embarrassment she might be feeling, “It was either this or hang them up in that tree over there. But seeing as how you’re wearing your underwear,” spoilsport the pointed look sent to said garments says, “where would the fun have been in that?” A moment is taken to reflect upon the reply given about his dragon, “So…a bit like toddler then, huh? How’s that voice in your head thing going?” the cant of head suggesting this really intrigues the woman.
After giving his head a vigorous scruff with the towel, A'nas drapes it around his shoulders and gives away his own preferences for mischief: "Better to toss 'em off the docks." He has a scowl for the boots as offending objects with one word for them like a curse: "Drills." He takes a turn for the better when it comes to talking about Ihrulith, brightening. "No, not really. Maybe sorta - I mean she doesn't want to listen to what anyone says she should do, and that's kind of like a kid, I guess. But she doesn't talk like one. And half the time I don't really know what she's thinking." He starts to struggle when it comes to trying to describe her, brow furrowing. "Like now, I can tell she's up to something, but I don't know what. Probably something she shouldn't be."
Laughter spills out for the quip, “I see you’ve played this game already.” Settling onto a nearby boulder, Bailey puts her attention more fully to the weyrling as he talks of his dragon, trying to understand. If the frown is anything to go by, it’s all a little beyond her. Wrinkling her nose as she dusts sand from her hands and fluffs the lightweight fabric away from herself, “Does she get to know what’s going on in your head all the time?”
"She knows everything," comes Anil's response almost sourly, with emphasis on the final word. He shakes out his trousers, folding short-lived, and slips them back on, wet shorts and all. "I got drills and we're already late," he says, making excuses, gathering up the rest of his affairs and tucking them under his arm. "But I'll come visit you and Rio," he promises, presuming with the second name. "I've got at least three sets of clothes to throw into the water, you know." With a grin that dimples his cheeks, the weyrling dashes away, yelling over his shoulder, "Bye!"
“Doesn’t seem fair,” Bailey returns with a light frown as she watches the weyrling get dressed. Brows peak upward and a low chuckle spills out when A’nas makes a guess at whom to pair her with. Fingers lift and make a small wiggling motion in farewell, “Do that. I’m sure he’d love to hear how you’re getting along,” no denial there. Laughter follows the teen as he dashes off, “Later,” she calls and then turns her attention out to sea, not looking to be hurrying off anywhere herself, just yet.