Log: Rub-a-Dub-Dub, Trader in the Tub
RL: April 17, 2008.
VR: Day 21, month 1, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter afternoon.
Leova meets and possibly misunderstands her first Vijay trader, Raian.
Water Caverns, High Reaches Weyr
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.
Water Caverns, just after noon. Steam. The shush of running water. The slosh of it slapping against the side of the pool when a bather moves in or out. Most of the nannies and laundry workers have gone to lunch, but there are a few still working, others getting clean. One of them's a weyrling that's shoulder-deep in the water, muscular arms crooked back to cushion a head with hair short as a boy's. Nearby, a folded towel cushions a plate that's nearly empty: just a used fork, a noodle or two in a slick of sauce, and three spiderclaw pincers with the insides sucked out.
A relatively unfamiliar face and form saunter into the water caverns, bundle of laundry wrapped in a stained sheet held in one hand. It'd be hard to pin the blond man's origin by his clothing, if anything he's dressed like a prosperous small holder in a crisp white shirt, finely tailored slate blue waistcoat and a pair of matching trousers. A navy woolen coat, the only item on his person that seems a little wore for wear boasts shiny brass buttons and high lapels. The trader makes his way confidently enough over to the laundry pool and hunkers down there, murmuring with the teen girl who lingers there scrubbing industriously. The soft exchange that follows results in that bundle remaining with the girl, while the man shucks off his coat and folds it over a bench. A rustle or two of fabric and he's slipping into the bathing pool a foot or two away from the weyrling, making little waves as he goes.
Waves wash up against skin, and the weyrling glances over. Looks, eyes narrowed at the arrival's closeness, at what the steam will show: the blond hair, perhaps. Unfamiliar features. Not that the weyrling is acquainted with everyone here, even now. The weyrling's eyes shut. Perhaps the man will move on. Or just not be a bother.
There's plenty of room to settle and the trader takes up a spot about an armslength and a half away, decent cushion of space. It doesn't last though as soft oath passes his lips. "Excuse me," directed at the relaxing Weyrling. "Sorry to bother you but d'you have any cleaning sand? I forgot to grab some before I waded in." Should she look up, she'd find a charming, dimpled smile on the man's face and a light spark in blue eyes, though it's a sincere request. "Looks like it was a good meal too," with a nod for her plate.
The continuing ripples stir a sideways glance through the weyrling's lashes as he moves further and further away, and the stiff jut of her elbows relaxes somewhat. When he speaks, she looks at him. A few moments later, "Don't mind." She lifts her head, twisting to reach for the small earthenware jar just past the plate, and she unlids it and scoops out a handful for herself before setting the jar closer to him. Another look, "And it was that. Nice to have the beans, this time of Turn."
Raian beams gratitude at the Weyrling and waits until she's served herself and set the pot down before reaching for it. "Thanks. It's not much fun wading back out there after you're already all wet. Though it's a fair sight warmer in here than out there," a little tilt of his head towards the corridor he just left. "Beans, noodles n' spiderclaws. Sounds a lot tastier than road stew and hardtack," he confesses with another one of those grins. "Might just see about eating in that bar the Weyr's got. Nice place by the by." The jar's unlidded again, the trader scooping up a handful of the stuff within, lowering his palm into the water to let it foam a little before applying himself to scrubbery. "Ain't minding my manners though, haven't given you my name or asked for yours. Raian, Vijay traders," he starts of introductions and follows up with a polite little nod.
"True enough." The weyrling's eyes leave the jar be, and the man with it, before starting on working up her own handful of foam. Except he keeps talking. Eventually she does look back. "Leova. With green Vrianth. Why were you all out this far into the snows, anyway? Raian? Got to be hard on the wagons." She turns her back on him, but it's to scrub over her shoulders, down to her ribs.
Raian's got a good cloud of lather going on his chest and is working up his arms. "Nice to meet you, Leova. And Vrianth. Nice name. Been a rider long?" Asked casually and with apparently honest interest. Her own question earns a pull of his mouth to the side. "Everyone's gotta overwinter somewhere. Couldn't get back down the road now if we tried. Weyr's good business too." His eyes've settled somewhere out in the water as he makes his own reach backwards, aiming for a shoulder blade.
She doesn't look back, keeping with her scrubbing. It would have been hard for him to come up with something more charming to say, though, even if it's just the polite sort of thing someone says to a rider, and it shows in Leova's voice. Warmer now. More lively. "Isn't it, though? Couldn't be better. And no, not so long." She sinks deep again, working beneath the water now, more distracted. "Maybe it is. Though not like most of us have so many marks. What does Vijay trade in?"
"Rolls off the tongue, nicely," Raian agrees, bringing an arm around to tuck under the other, getting the rest of that side of his back. "Better than being on the open road right now anyhow, even if it's cold enough to keep the Threads off," the trader acknowledges lightly enough. Next follows a little chuckle and a returning spark in his eyes. "Little bit of everything from around Nabol, Reaches. Pick up a load one place, sell at the next, pick up something else, it's the way it goes." There's something in his voice that connotes a rhythm to life in that, a briefly lilting quality, then it's gone and he's back to plain old conversational. "Marks aren't everything, where there's no marks, there's always trade."
Leova's faint sigh can be grateful for that side of the cold, at least. The rest of the cleaning goes quickly enough that soon she can just sink back again and let the circulating water rinse her. "Sounds like quite a life." But she lets that curiosity be in favor of, "What kinds of bits of everything do you happen to have just now? For being overwintered, and all."
Raian's turn to rinse, sinking down to the shoulders in the water, back turning slightly as he catches up another handful of the sand to finish up with underwater. "There's freedom in it," the man agrees, tilting a look over his shoulder at her. "Never have to be tied down anywhere." A moment later, his face is coming into view from an odd angle as he dips his hair into the water, then straightens, works the sand through the damp blonde strands. "Fabbrics, clothing, ale, apples, inks and hides ... I'd have to get you a full manifest to name /everything/," Raian joshes lightly, then leans forward to scrub his face and briefly vanishes when he's done, to rinse thoroughly. Finished, he returns to the pool's edge to slide the pot of sand back towards Leova. "Thanks. Feels good to be full clean."
Leova slides him a look through barely open eyes. "If that's what it feels like. Being tied down. Can see why you wouldn't want it." And then just as much of a smile, "Maybe later. The manifest. Enough to think about for now, hm?" When he's done, she regards him more steadily. "And it does that. So. Raian. You yourself been around Weyrs much before, then?"
Raian hitching his elbows to the side of the pool, Raian returns that steady regard with his own, seemingly open, guileless and extremely blue. "Sure, ain't going anywhere for a piece. Not until the snows clear out. Closest to being tied I've ever been." A little nod answers her question affirmatively. "Here and there, time and again. When the road takes us that way." Beat. "Reaches, Telgar, Fort."
"Hope you don't get too stir-crazy. They say people do, sometimes." It might just be the glowlight that makes her amber eyes greener, more opaque. Until she looks down, idly paring one short nail with another. "Quite a range your clan has, that. But you know what Weyrs are like. That this," and Leova glances back up now, gesturing towards the whole of the pool, not just them, "Don't mean what it would back in a Hold. Good."
"Mostly around Nabol, haven't been down Fort-way in a bit." He makes a little face Raian does that still brings that dimple out. "Probably will. Ain't used to holding still long. One foot shifts idly in the water and toes surface briefly, then he tips a curious look over at her, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "And just what would that be?"
She nearly falls for it, but there's something in the way he looks at her, the way his mouth turns up just that way. And it's coming back to her, how to read it. So she refuses to look away, just repeats the simple, firm, "Good." Holds it there for a moment. And then she can turn away from Raian to reach for her towel, setting the plate aside to come back for later. "Maybe you'll tell me about Nabol later, hm? But I'm done for now." With that Leova moves deeper into the pool, the towel now wrapped around her shoulders, and begins to disappear into the steam.
Raian returns that steady glance, a hint of surprise stealing across his face and the his head shakes once. "Still don't know, but will do. I'll be having a drink later on if you care to catch up. Plenty of stories 'bout Nabol," he adds agreeably and then leans back against the pool's edge, watching her move off, still with a slightly quizzical expression. The trader remains there for a little while until people start to drift back in from lunch, when he glides on out of the water and pads over to get his own towel, leaving gleaming wet footprints behind to mark his passage. Another stop by the laundry girl earns him an update of 'half an hour' and once dressed again, he slips out into the corridor outside.
VR: Day 21, month 1, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter afternoon.
Leova meets and possibly misunderstands her first Vijay trader, Raian.
Water Caverns, High Reaches Weyr
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.
Water Caverns, just after noon. Steam. The shush of running water. The slosh of it slapping against the side of the pool when a bather moves in or out. Most of the nannies and laundry workers have gone to lunch, but there are a few still working, others getting clean. One of them's a weyrling that's shoulder-deep in the water, muscular arms crooked back to cushion a head with hair short as a boy's. Nearby, a folded towel cushions a plate that's nearly empty: just a used fork, a noodle or two in a slick of sauce, and three spiderclaw pincers with the insides sucked out.
A relatively unfamiliar face and form saunter into the water caverns, bundle of laundry wrapped in a stained sheet held in one hand. It'd be hard to pin the blond man's origin by his clothing, if anything he's dressed like a prosperous small holder in a crisp white shirt, finely tailored slate blue waistcoat and a pair of matching trousers. A navy woolen coat, the only item on his person that seems a little wore for wear boasts shiny brass buttons and high lapels. The trader makes his way confidently enough over to the laundry pool and hunkers down there, murmuring with the teen girl who lingers there scrubbing industriously. The soft exchange that follows results in that bundle remaining with the girl, while the man shucks off his coat and folds it over a bench. A rustle or two of fabric and he's slipping into the bathing pool a foot or two away from the weyrling, making little waves as he goes.
Waves wash up against skin, and the weyrling glances over. Looks, eyes narrowed at the arrival's closeness, at what the steam will show: the blond hair, perhaps. Unfamiliar features. Not that the weyrling is acquainted with everyone here, even now. The weyrling's eyes shut. Perhaps the man will move on. Or just not be a bother.
There's plenty of room to settle and the trader takes up a spot about an armslength and a half away, decent cushion of space. It doesn't last though as soft oath passes his lips. "Excuse me," directed at the relaxing Weyrling. "Sorry to bother you but d'you have any cleaning sand? I forgot to grab some before I waded in." Should she look up, she'd find a charming, dimpled smile on the man's face and a light spark in blue eyes, though it's a sincere request. "Looks like it was a good meal too," with a nod for her plate.
The continuing ripples stir a sideways glance through the weyrling's lashes as he moves further and further away, and the stiff jut of her elbows relaxes somewhat. When he speaks, she looks at him. A few moments later, "Don't mind." She lifts her head, twisting to reach for the small earthenware jar just past the plate, and she unlids it and scoops out a handful for herself before setting the jar closer to him. Another look, "And it was that. Nice to have the beans, this time of Turn."
Raian beams gratitude at the Weyrling and waits until she's served herself and set the pot down before reaching for it. "Thanks. It's not much fun wading back out there after you're already all wet. Though it's a fair sight warmer in here than out there," a little tilt of his head towards the corridor he just left. "Beans, noodles n' spiderclaws. Sounds a lot tastier than road stew and hardtack," he confesses with another one of those grins. "Might just see about eating in that bar the Weyr's got. Nice place by the by." The jar's unlidded again, the trader scooping up a handful of the stuff within, lowering his palm into the water to let it foam a little before applying himself to scrubbery. "Ain't minding my manners though, haven't given you my name or asked for yours. Raian, Vijay traders," he starts of introductions and follows up with a polite little nod.
"True enough." The weyrling's eyes leave the jar be, and the man with it, before starting on working up her own handful of foam. Except he keeps talking. Eventually she does look back. "Leova. With green Vrianth. Why were you all out this far into the snows, anyway? Raian? Got to be hard on the wagons." She turns her back on him, but it's to scrub over her shoulders, down to her ribs.
Raian's got a good cloud of lather going on his chest and is working up his arms. "Nice to meet you, Leova. And Vrianth. Nice name. Been a rider long?" Asked casually and with apparently honest interest. Her own question earns a pull of his mouth to the side. "Everyone's gotta overwinter somewhere. Couldn't get back down the road now if we tried. Weyr's good business too." His eyes've settled somewhere out in the water as he makes his own reach backwards, aiming for a shoulder blade.
She doesn't look back, keeping with her scrubbing. It would have been hard for him to come up with something more charming to say, though, even if it's just the polite sort of thing someone says to a rider, and it shows in Leova's voice. Warmer now. More lively. "Isn't it, though? Couldn't be better. And no, not so long." She sinks deep again, working beneath the water now, more distracted. "Maybe it is. Though not like most of us have so many marks. What does Vijay trade in?"
"Rolls off the tongue, nicely," Raian agrees, bringing an arm around to tuck under the other, getting the rest of that side of his back. "Better than being on the open road right now anyhow, even if it's cold enough to keep the Threads off," the trader acknowledges lightly enough. Next follows a little chuckle and a returning spark in his eyes. "Little bit of everything from around Nabol, Reaches. Pick up a load one place, sell at the next, pick up something else, it's the way it goes." There's something in his voice that connotes a rhythm to life in that, a briefly lilting quality, then it's gone and he's back to plain old conversational. "Marks aren't everything, where there's no marks, there's always trade."
Leova's faint sigh can be grateful for that side of the cold, at least. The rest of the cleaning goes quickly enough that soon she can just sink back again and let the circulating water rinse her. "Sounds like quite a life." But she lets that curiosity be in favor of, "What kinds of bits of everything do you happen to have just now? For being overwintered, and all."
Raian's turn to rinse, sinking down to the shoulders in the water, back turning slightly as he catches up another handful of the sand to finish up with underwater. "There's freedom in it," the man agrees, tilting a look over his shoulder at her. "Never have to be tied down anywhere." A moment later, his face is coming into view from an odd angle as he dips his hair into the water, then straightens, works the sand through the damp blonde strands. "Fabbrics, clothing, ale, apples, inks and hides ... I'd have to get you a full manifest to name /everything/," Raian joshes lightly, then leans forward to scrub his face and briefly vanishes when he's done, to rinse thoroughly. Finished, he returns to the pool's edge to slide the pot of sand back towards Leova. "Thanks. Feels good to be full clean."
Leova slides him a look through barely open eyes. "If that's what it feels like. Being tied down. Can see why you wouldn't want it." And then just as much of a smile, "Maybe later. The manifest. Enough to think about for now, hm?" When he's done, she regards him more steadily. "And it does that. So. Raian. You yourself been around Weyrs much before, then?"
Raian hitching his elbows to the side of the pool, Raian returns that steady regard with his own, seemingly open, guileless and extremely blue. "Sure, ain't going anywhere for a piece. Not until the snows clear out. Closest to being tied I've ever been." A little nod answers her question affirmatively. "Here and there, time and again. When the road takes us that way." Beat. "Reaches, Telgar, Fort."
"Hope you don't get too stir-crazy. They say people do, sometimes." It might just be the glowlight that makes her amber eyes greener, more opaque. Until she looks down, idly paring one short nail with another. "Quite a range your clan has, that. But you know what Weyrs are like. That this," and Leova glances back up now, gesturing towards the whole of the pool, not just them, "Don't mean what it would back in a Hold. Good."
"Mostly around Nabol, haven't been down Fort-way in a bit." He makes a little face Raian does that still brings that dimple out. "Probably will. Ain't used to holding still long. One foot shifts idly in the water and toes surface briefly, then he tips a curious look over at her, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "And just what would that be?"
She nearly falls for it, but there's something in the way he looks at her, the way his mouth turns up just that way. And it's coming back to her, how to read it. So she refuses to look away, just repeats the simple, firm, "Good." Holds it there for a moment. And then she can turn away from Raian to reach for her towel, setting the plate aside to come back for later. "Maybe you'll tell me about Nabol later, hm? But I'm done for now." With that Leova moves deeper into the pool, the towel now wrapped around her shoulders, and begins to disappear into the steam.
Raian returns that steady glance, a hint of surprise stealing across his face and the his head shakes once. "Still don't know, but will do. I'll be having a drink later on if you care to catch up. Plenty of stories 'bout Nabol," he adds agreeably and then leans back against the pool's edge, watching her move off, still with a slightly quizzical expression. The trader remains there for a little while until people start to drift back in from lunch, when he glides on out of the water and pads over to get his own towel, leaving gleaming wet footprints behind to mark his passage. Another stop by the laundry girl earns him an update of 'half an hour' and once dressed again, he slips out into the corridor outside.