Fuck ups.
Who: Miniyal, R'vain, Peloth
Where: Dragon baths
When: 15:56 on day 12, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Being required to bathe her high and mighty prissiness, Miniyal winds up having to deal with the weyrleader. That is, they talk. Like many talks it goes its own way and is both good and bad. More good than bad this time, but she can't have a mental breakdown every time she talks to someone. Well, she can, but she did not this time.
4/3/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 15:56 on day 12, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's not an unfamiliar sight these days, the baby gold in the baths. It's nearly something one could tell time by if they paid a little bit of attention. Miniyal certainly has added the trips to her internal clock. Between lessons and feedings and generally having ever second of her life spelled out for her by the weyrlingmaster she has, for her troubles, quite a bit of the rest of it ordered by the neat freak that found her on the sands. Having learned her lesson, she's sent the dragon into the water while pulling off her boots and then changing so her regular clothes stay dry just once thank you. Loose shorts, loose sleeveless top and bare feet accompany her sigh as she heads for the impatient Peloth. There is, at least, quiet in here.
That clock that tells time according to the comings and goings of weyrling days is not one to which R'vain is unattuned. The hands on the clock may have moved differently when it was his to wind and set-- but they moved, and he knows intimately the manners of their engineering. Maybe he has observed enough to figure on meeting Miniyal and her bathing beauty here. Maybe, of course, it's just dumb luck. He /does/ seem intent on some kind of washing-- he has a towel wrapped around his neck, its ends hanging over his chest-- but Ruvoth does not immediately accompany him, and he's still got on boots, leathers, half-unbuttoned shirt, as if he's come from his office. With a towel. His footfalls, as usual, announce him; they echo through the cavern, percussive counterpoint to distant drips of condensation and springwater.
People come and go and for the most part Miniyal tries to ignore them. Just wash the brat and get back to whatever else is next on the list of things To Be Done Or Else. Unfortunately, the bathing beauty doesn't like to be rushed and rarely allows herself to be rushed. So Miniyal is just getting started when she hears someone approach and with a glance over her shoulder makes note of whom it is doing the approaching. Shaking her head she turns back to her task. Lalala. No one here. No big shiny or person standing next to her. It's a good plan. It fails because they are impossible to miss and because Peloth is attuned to the comings and goings of people for reasons different than her rider. So as she lifts her head for neck washing she croons a hello to the weyrleader. Traitor.
"Hello t'you too," rumbles the Weyrleader-- to Peloth, because she greeted him. He tosses off a salute of sorts to her also, his head tipped back a bit to keep the offer of eye contact good while the young queen's head raises. "Like you /need/ a bath," he adds in a tone little better than a snort, though warm enough, like Peloth wanting washed bemuses him. He prowls on past rider and dragon to the edge of the pool they're using, several feet down the line so as to claim space of his own, and stops with boot-toes just at the edge of the water. But his eyes keep mostly on the dragon, and he splits a wide and toothy grin in adding, "Y'shiny and glossy enough as it is. Goin' t'blind us all with your looks."
"I tell her that every day. She doesn't listen." He gets a salute, not even thought of, just tossed off because she has to. Forced saluting. Which earns her a nudge from the head of the dragon who barely can remember to do that, busy enough preening under the words dropped onto her shiny hide by the weyrleader. "Stop encouraging her! Like she doesn't get that enough." Miniyal glares over at the red-headed man. "What's the matter, sir? No room in the little baths for you and your ego at the same time?" It's the first look she gives him, following those words and she grins as she says it, teasing just a little. "Or has your filthy mind corroded your body and now you need even more water to get clean? Either way, don't encourage the brat. Sir."
While Miniyal talks, R'vain spends a moment making eyes at Peloth-- he does not look on her quite like he might look on a female of his own species, but there's admiration and speculation enough even in this relatively academic, distant squint to make a woman suspicious-- then crouches so he can whip the loop of the towel off over his head and drench it in the hot water before his feet. "Oh," R'vain says, after all of that, and after all Miniyal has said, while he wrings the dripping cloth from soggy to merely damp, and looks up, grinning like a hungry cat. "You're here too. Didn't see you 'round her." Absolutely facetious, this-- but in its way it could be thoughtful as much as it's mean. It does, after all, excuse her for trying to ignore him instead of saluting if he didn't notice /her/ at all. "Good suggestions all of 'em," he praises the weyrling then, "but no. Needed a hot towel. Here's closer'n downstairs, from th'bowl. And she's not a brat, is she?" He looks at Peloth again; this almost approaches a coo. "Are you?"
Peloth ignores her rider who tries to ignore the weyrleader who ignores her in favor of, well, it's a circle. Her rider is ignored so much she wades over to where the weyrleader crouches and rewards his attention with a gentle headbutt that is not so gentle. She's not so big yet, but she has grown and doesn't seem to realise this. So, bump goes the head. All while Miniyal lets out an annoyed sigh and waits for this to be done so she can get back to washing. "If you're going to encourage her, sir, you can wash her and I'll get to be dry for once this time of day. It's not like-" Whatever that thought was she snaps it off before it gets out. That means it likely was something he could take the wrong way. So she keeps it to herself. No sense encouraging him. Arms folding over her chest she stands in the water and just waits. At some point she will get to continue her work. At some point she'll manage to convince the baby dragon that she should not encourage the bad man.
R'vain lets out a soft 'oof' at the headbutt and nearly loses his crouch in favor of a sudden seat on the stone, but catches himself by putting down a knee onto the edge of the pool hard enough that it makes the joint crack. At this, the Weyrleader winces, but puts away further protest behind a grit of teeth and a hand outreaching to stroke a golden face. The other slings the now-wrung towel up onto his shoulder. For a moment, Peloth has his complete attention; he grins at her in an entirely unslavering way. It's not too long, though, before he glances up and over at Miniyal again. "I wouldn't want t'take away from y'time with her," he points out, so kindly. "But I can help a bit, f'you want, before I got t'get again. 'Not like'?" The prompt's deliberate but gentle.
"Oh. Nothing. Get back here, brat. You've hurt him enough. . .for now." Smiling sweetly over at the man who received the head butt she glances away a moment and then mumbles, "Are you alright? She hasn't quite realised that doing that to people is bad. I've told her not to." Well, she may not have tried to stop her from doing it to /this/ man, but that doesn't need remarking on. Not when she's stuck with that offer. What to say, what to do, what to say? In the end she just nods once and rolls her eyes. "Fine." And more grudgingly, "Thank you, sir." Peloth heads back to where her rider waits. Bath time! That's all she seems to need to know.
"I'm fine," R'vain says, though he says it before he proves it. To prove it requires gingerly getting himself back up off of that knee into the crouch, wincing, then straightening to a stand, which seems to bother him less. There's no further cracking. "She'll do it t'you sometime and you'll crack your tailbone good or something; she'll figure it out then. That it could hurt someone." The Weyrleader shrugs, like this doesn't trouble him particularly. He even grins at the little queen as she heads back for her bath, shaking his head a little. "Better let me have th'dry side, if you want I should help. You're dressed f'th'water." And he's not. Which leaves only a couple of options, and him to suggest one, though not without a flash of green fire that makes plain he's considered the other. Toward the queen and her rider he prowls, then, and prompts again, "'Oh, nothing?'"
"Move, brat," fondly said so she must be referring to the brat not on two legs. Not that she would use such a word on him. Not when there are so many other ones that apply. "And, she'll move eventually when she realises you're not coming in. Or not. You might get lucky." Miniyal rolls her eyes and shoves uselessly at the one getting her bath. "Back up already, your breath is horrid." Rather than wait for her to back up she ducks around to the side, placing the dragon between her and the weyrleader. "She's done it already. But nothing broke. So I guess until I'm not around to bathe her every five minutes she won't learn." Shaking her head she does little in the way of washing. It's not a real bath, it's not needed, going through the motions seems to do the trick often enough. "Nothing. I was going to say something and thought better of it. Considering the audience. I have to be nicer, you know. Before one of your vicious defenders threatens to hit me again."
R'vain toes up to the edge of the water again, then crouches to roll up his sleeves and soak his hands. He soaks the towel again, too-- it's here, so he may as well use it-- then straightens to reach for a span of golden hide. Like Miniyal, he does not bother to 'wash' her; he settles for stroking the queen with wet cloth and hands. "Vicious defenders?" Another prompt, though even from across Peloth's body R'vain's voice is clearly more amused than pointed, now-- that could have been almost rhetorical. "Min'yal, y'obliged t'salute and 'sir' me. Ain't obliged t'hold y'tongue between th'sirs." /That/ might be almost an invitation to speak her mind.
Miniyal's eyes roll, although it's not like he'll see with her safely on the other side of the spoiled brat. "I ever held my tongue with you, sir? I don't recall that happening very often and usually then because I saw no reason to give you any sort of chance to make a comment that was overly lewd." Lewd, in place of so many words she could have used. It's a nice simple word. And comes right before a croon as Peloth enjoys her attention. But she keeps most of her reactions other than that to herself. Or shares them only with her rider. "Ella. Took offense to my calling you an ass. Which is dumb because if she knows you, and I'd say sharing a bed is knowing someone enough, she'd know you're an ass. Still, it's so cute when people get defensive for you. Makes me all warm inside to know my fearless leader is thought so well of. At least by some. Some think you're being overly protective. Others just don't trust you and wanted to know what you're doing."
R'vain grins and shakes his head for 'overly lewd,' as if he finds Miniyal's word choice exactly as amusing as it is, and works his hands and cloth up along Peloth's foreshoulder. "Ella /knows/ I'm an ass. Don't mean she'd like th'way you said it. Maybe she's seen better of me than you, though." He moves as if massaging, his palms as hot as the water they bathed in, making slow circles with a little pressure behind them. He's limited, of course, to what he can reach without encountering danger of falling into the drink. "Don't mind being thought overly protective. S'another way of saying I try t'plan ahead. Who wants t'know what I'm doing and can't figure it out, Min'yal? I'm tryin' t'run a Weyr, it don't seem too cloudy t'me."
"All I did was call you his high and mighty jackass. Like I haven't said worse." Pausing, Miniyal's head tips to one side and she frowns. "Fine. I've not said worse outside to a very select group of individuals. You /are/ my weyrleader. But that doesn't mean I have to treat you like you don't fuck up." Between them, Peloth twists her head back and forth to look from one person to the other. Although she seems more interested in watching R'vain at the moment. "Ginella. Before she left for Benden and before. . .well, before my work sort of had to be put on pause I had approached her about doing some work and she wanted to know what you and Roa were up to is all." Biting her lip she falls silent. "Speaking of, umm. Don't keep things from her just because she's pregnant and all. She's going to think you are. If she doesn't already. Which I am not saying. At all. Because you didn't ask me to watch her and I am not and I am not, umm, sharing things she may have said. Or anything. But, umm. Right. I didn't pry. And she didn't ask me to pry which is dumb because I could have found things out easily enough but she's still sensitive about that I think which is not going to do her much good considering her inclinations to want to do so much. You can't change things without knowing what people are up to is all while you're trying to do things. Look. I'm just going to be quiet now and you can, umm, go. Right. Umm. Sir."
The Weyrleader actually laughs, a sharp rough bark, at what Miniyal called him in her conversation with Ella. The rest of her words make him a little more mellow, though; his stroking of the damp-hided queen slows, and he looks up thoughtfully, as if he could see her rider through her bulk. "It don't," he rumbles, low, about what his rank doesn't mean; he repeats Ginella's name in much the same thoughtful tone. Then he's rubbing down Peloth with renewed interest, listening while Miniyal's tongue gets ahead of her. In the ensuing silence (against the backdrop of distant water sounds and echoing droplets) he notes, "Y'trying t'help me." Simply put, and not at all rhetorical.
From behind the bathing dragon there is silence. It's a lingering silence that is interrupted only by those sounds of water. Miniyal nudges and the wing nearest her stretches so she can go through the motions under it. When the wing comes back down she reappears, shoving playfully at Peloth's head. "Fine, brat." Looking up she folds her arms over her chest as she looks at R'vain. "Don't get any ideas at all. None. Just because I'm-" Frowning she wrinkles her nose before continuing. "Look, I just mean that I am only trying to help because I have no other clients right now is all. Alright? That's it. It's not like I wanted to nice or anything. So don't go getting the wrong thought in your head because I still don't like you."
"Didn't have any thoughts even remotely resembling you likin' me," R'vain assures her. All of the wing-and-hiding business has either gone right over his head or else he's willing to pretend as much, but now he puts down a hand into a loose fist against his hip, jaunts his posture and rubs Peloth one-handed, more attention on her rider now. "Had th'thought you'd rather I not fuck up than th'alternative. That's all. But about th'clients." He turns his head halfway, presenting his bent-nose profile; his eyes twitch and narrow and for a minute he seems to do nothing but listen. Then, "Ginella letcha go?"
"Well, you get ideas is all and I wanted to be sure you knew where we stood. Is all." So, there. Miniyal blinks and wipes water from her eyes after there's a bit of splashing from Peloth who tires of not really being washed and wades off. Hmph. People. She flicks her tail down into the water at the both of them. Her work here is done. "Well, you're going to fuck up," are the first words out of her mouth when she's no longer got any shield at all. "But, yes. I'm just trying to make things go as smoothly as possible. And I don't know. I haven't seen her since she's been back. She might not want me anymore. Considering I'm rather stuck for over a turn. And, well, technically at the end of that period she'd sort of be asking me to spy on myself."
The Weyrleader watches Peloth off, but backsteps a quick pace from the water's edge when the droplets flung by her tailtip sail his way. "Ginella's a bit brash t'think it should matter t'her what we're 'planning' for High Reaches," R'vain points out without any real intonation of bitter or rebuff. "What's she trying t'do, ingratiate herself t'M'arik? Suppose there's sense enough in that, but M'arik'd be better suited t'ask politely than t'seem he's sent his junior t'Caucus f'th'primary purpose of lookin' in on our leaders." A beat, and he looks back at Miniyal, tossing the towel again over his shoulder (his shirt has a growing dark spot from the damp) so he can rest both fists lazily on his hips. And jaunt. "We're both goin' t'fuck up, weyrwoman. Behooves us t'minimize it any way we can."
With no dragon to keep her in the water, Miniyal wades up after the reason she was there in the first place. Then she pauses and frowns a moment. Her clothes are across the way and would make talking harder so she doesn't move just yet. "I'm not sure she really knew what she was asking for. It was really just a spur of the moment decision to offer her my services anyway. To see what would happen. Honestly, I didn't think she'd take me up on it. And I can't really track her down right now. What with not being allowed to do anything." Wincing a moment at something she shakes her head. "Could you please just call me by my name? I'm used to fucking up that way. And of course I am going to. I'm going to do a worse job than. . .than you. That's how bad it's going to be. But can I least do it as a person and not a title?"
R'vain rumbles thoughtfully, his sole comment on Ginella at this point that, accompanied by a squint off Peloth's direction again. But Miniyal's wince and words about herself draw his attention back to her, and for a moment he gifts her with the brilliant glare of one of his kinder grins. "Sure," he replies, "but y'can't expect everyone y'meet t'call you Min'yal. /I/ don't mind. Once you're out from under D'ven you call me by my name, y'like. I only answer t'high-and-mighty-jackass if there's no one else in th'room." A beat to let her appreciate his generosity and sense of humor. "Now you're that thing I ain't s'posed call you, though. I wondered if you'd be interested in bein' a little more discerning about y'clients."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of using my pet name for you in a crowded room. People might get the wrong idea. No, that'll be between you and me from now on." Miniyal pauses here a moment and grins slowly, lowering her voice just a fraction before finishing her statement on that title. "You know. When we're alone." Then she winks and then she must duck her head a moment to stifle a quiet laugh. "Anyway. I don't even have a name right now. I'll be lucky to remember what it is by the time I graduate." Shaking her head she wrings out water from the bottom of her shirt and sighs. "I only have one client right now, sir. That's you. I've thought about talking to Ashwin, but I'm not sure how he'd take it. D'ven said he might be interested once I graduated in taking up my services again, but that remains to be seen."
That she makes sport with him, that she uses this particular method to make sport, has R'vain laughing again-- no sharp little barks of laughter, just a series of soft chortles, held back from something more raucous by the flattening of a paw across his stomach. When he has himself mostly recovered-- she's telling him she hasn't got a name at that point-- he returns her wink, and half-turns from her to grin his broadest grin out at Peloth. Better than turning it on Miniyal, lest she think the wink more than it was, and never mind what they might look like to someone else. "Wondering," he says at last-- he has to put a little silence between his laughter and this-- "If you'd consider th'possibility that th'Weyr's your real client, now."
Peloth has settled by the water, mostly enamored with trying to see her reflection in that water, but knowing enough to pay attention when there is talking going on. Since it rarely ends well and all. Besides, she might get to be the center of attention again so much keep an eye on both and be grinned at. "Things'll be different when I graduate. I'll reevaluate where I stand then. For now. . .I have to have something to keep my mind off things. Otherwise I'll go crazy. I'm already not allowed to /do/ anything at all. Which is a complete waste of my talents and my time. I'm perfectly capable of keeping up with everything. And you don't want me bored. Who knows what I'll do if I get bored. I couldn't even say. Peloth and I are doing fine and I'm not mucking with the program even though I've thought of plenty of ways that I could and other than the truly stupid rules I haven't even broken any. At all. Which, all combined makes me itch and feel like I'm not doing enough of anything. Or maybe it's because I spend so much time in the water that I feel like I itch?" A glare, directed at the cause of that, not that the glare means anything at all when given by Miniyal to her brat. With a heavy sigh she brushes a few wet strands of hair off her face where they've managed to come free of their bindings. "Look. I know everything's changed and I know everything is going to change and responsibility and demands and all that stuff, alright? This isn't some game for me. I know that. But I need time to process it at my own pace."
"So process," R'vain invites, turning his grin from the gold to her rider with complete ease and maybe a little deference-- he does at least nod a bit to Miniyal, for all he keeps on grinning. "At y'own pace. I ain't tryin' t'get you t'stop what's in your natural inclinations, y'know. Just pointin' out you got a whole Weyr right here, /your/ Weyr I think y'said, and it's asked f'your talents and time." He tips his head sideways then, a gesture at Peloth, though he does not this time look away from Miniyal to consider the queen directly. His green gaze sticks to the weyrling, fierce and shining, and not at all unhappy. Pleased, maybe. "/I'm/ just askin' you t'consider th'request." /Then/ he's done with the sport of extreme eye contact, and turns from her to crouch and whip off the towel, so he can dip it anew in the hot water.
As much as it pains her to do so, or more accurately as hard as it is for her to do so, Miniyal does not try to avoid the eye contact. Neither does she fidget or squirm under it, but she's had some practice being still under unwanted attention from him. "I so need a drink," muttered softly as she decides to examine bare feet. "I'll consider it. But only because you're my favorite client. Which is only because you're the only one I have." Head tipping to the side she heads over towards where her dry clothes are now and sits down on the ground to sort them out, not changing just yet. "You know H'kon? I mean, talked to him much?"
R'vain busies himself wringing out his newly-hot towel, though he does take a second to rumble, "Join th'club," before Miniyal goes away to tend to her dry clothes. "Know of him, sure. Arekoth's. Two-cee. Quiet. Vanya-- y'know, Vanya-- " As if her name needs to be repeated and emphasized for effect. You know, /Vanya./ "-- she was kinda stuck t'his arm one time in th'galleries, maybe when Tialith was clutching. What about him?"
Miniyal sighs and sorts out her clothes before peeling off wet ones to exchange for dry ones. She's changed in front of others and won't give him the satisfaction thinking she cares either way about doing it front of him. Besides, he can watch the curious dragon trying to examine herself in the water. "Right. He's sharing her with D'ven. Open-minded of him and all. Just wondered if you'd talked to him much. He's very, hrm. He's very inclined towards your way of thinking more than your weyrwoman's. I just thought it was information you might want to know is all. He's interesting enough once you get him talking."
R'vain finishes wringing his towel and slings it around his neck again, straightening as he does so, then turns; he finds Miniyal midst-changing, and half-turns back, ostensibly to look at Peloth admiring herself in the water. He doesn't quite turn all the way back-- if she will make a show of being able to change in front of him, he'll be casual about it. "Don't think D'ven's got th'time to keep up his side of th'bargain anyway, th'way he's working you weyrlings. Every other time I see him he's lookin' like someone painted blue-black under his eyes. -- S'pose I should talk to him, then. A bit more. Or listen to him. Supposing," and assuming maybe that this has been time enough for her to be mostly dressed, R'vain turns back to face Miniyal again, prepared to be blase about it if he's wrong, "I can figure out how t'get him talking."
She is buttoning the last buttons on her shirt, not having bothered to tuck it in. Socks and shoes come next and it's not like bare feet are a problem. "He needs to sleep more." Oh, she makes no comment at all other than that. "He tries too hard. All the stomping and yelling and so on." Shaking her head she ties her boots and rises to her feet. "Yea. You have a knack for getting people to talk. Anyway, sir. I've taken enough of your time and someone's starting to get whiny about wanting to eat. And, of course you itch, brat. You live in the water. You are not a water creature. At least you have someone to oil your stupid big hide." Rolling her eyes Miniyal looks over and grins. "If you'll excuse us, sir? Thank you for your time and sorry to have been a bother and all." With a weary 'I'm doing this under duress' attitude she comes to attention to salute properly.
The Weyrleader snorts for his 'knack' for getting people to talk, but suffers the rest of Miniyal's remarks anyway-- with a grin, even, a tame one, as he looks back at the subject of her comments about itching and oil and not being a water creature. "I'll excuse you," he agrees, and looks back in time to catch the salute. His grin turns crookedly sly and he tips his head, eyes smirky, so the distance from hand to temple is not so much. He tosses off a salute like it's no trouble, no trouble at all-- and sets out for the bowl with his hot towel.
Where: Dragon baths
When: 15:56 on day 12, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Being required to bathe her high and mighty prissiness, Miniyal winds up having to deal with the weyrleader. That is, they talk. Like many talks it goes its own way and is both good and bad. More good than bad this time, but she can't have a mental breakdown every time she talks to someone. Well, she can, but she did not this time.
4/3/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 15:56 on day 12, month 7, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's not an unfamiliar sight these days, the baby gold in the baths. It's nearly something one could tell time by if they paid a little bit of attention. Miniyal certainly has added the trips to her internal clock. Between lessons and feedings and generally having ever second of her life spelled out for her by the weyrlingmaster she has, for her troubles, quite a bit of the rest of it ordered by the neat freak that found her on the sands. Having learned her lesson, she's sent the dragon into the water while pulling off her boots and then changing so her regular clothes stay dry just once thank you. Loose shorts, loose sleeveless top and bare feet accompany her sigh as she heads for the impatient Peloth. There is, at least, quiet in here.
That clock that tells time according to the comings and goings of weyrling days is not one to which R'vain is unattuned. The hands on the clock may have moved differently when it was his to wind and set-- but they moved, and he knows intimately the manners of their engineering. Maybe he has observed enough to figure on meeting Miniyal and her bathing beauty here. Maybe, of course, it's just dumb luck. He /does/ seem intent on some kind of washing-- he has a towel wrapped around his neck, its ends hanging over his chest-- but Ruvoth does not immediately accompany him, and he's still got on boots, leathers, half-unbuttoned shirt, as if he's come from his office. With a towel. His footfalls, as usual, announce him; they echo through the cavern, percussive counterpoint to distant drips of condensation and springwater.
People come and go and for the most part Miniyal tries to ignore them. Just wash the brat and get back to whatever else is next on the list of things To Be Done Or Else. Unfortunately, the bathing beauty doesn't like to be rushed and rarely allows herself to be rushed. So Miniyal is just getting started when she hears someone approach and with a glance over her shoulder makes note of whom it is doing the approaching. Shaking her head she turns back to her task. Lalala. No one here. No big shiny or person standing next to her. It's a good plan. It fails because they are impossible to miss and because Peloth is attuned to the comings and goings of people for reasons different than her rider. So as she lifts her head for neck washing she croons a hello to the weyrleader. Traitor.
"Hello t'you too," rumbles the Weyrleader-- to Peloth, because she greeted him. He tosses off a salute of sorts to her also, his head tipped back a bit to keep the offer of eye contact good while the young queen's head raises. "Like you /need/ a bath," he adds in a tone little better than a snort, though warm enough, like Peloth wanting washed bemuses him. He prowls on past rider and dragon to the edge of the pool they're using, several feet down the line so as to claim space of his own, and stops with boot-toes just at the edge of the water. But his eyes keep mostly on the dragon, and he splits a wide and toothy grin in adding, "Y'shiny and glossy enough as it is. Goin' t'blind us all with your looks."
"I tell her that every day. She doesn't listen." He gets a salute, not even thought of, just tossed off because she has to. Forced saluting. Which earns her a nudge from the head of the dragon who barely can remember to do that, busy enough preening under the words dropped onto her shiny hide by the weyrleader. "Stop encouraging her! Like she doesn't get that enough." Miniyal glares over at the red-headed man. "What's the matter, sir? No room in the little baths for you and your ego at the same time?" It's the first look she gives him, following those words and she grins as she says it, teasing just a little. "Or has your filthy mind corroded your body and now you need even more water to get clean? Either way, don't encourage the brat. Sir."
While Miniyal talks, R'vain spends a moment making eyes at Peloth-- he does not look on her quite like he might look on a female of his own species, but there's admiration and speculation enough even in this relatively academic, distant squint to make a woman suspicious-- then crouches so he can whip the loop of the towel off over his head and drench it in the hot water before his feet. "Oh," R'vain says, after all of that, and after all Miniyal has said, while he wrings the dripping cloth from soggy to merely damp, and looks up, grinning like a hungry cat. "You're here too. Didn't see you 'round her." Absolutely facetious, this-- but in its way it could be thoughtful as much as it's mean. It does, after all, excuse her for trying to ignore him instead of saluting if he didn't notice /her/ at all. "Good suggestions all of 'em," he praises the weyrling then, "but no. Needed a hot towel. Here's closer'n downstairs, from th'bowl. And she's not a brat, is she?" He looks at Peloth again; this almost approaches a coo. "Are you?"
Peloth ignores her rider who tries to ignore the weyrleader who ignores her in favor of, well, it's a circle. Her rider is ignored so much she wades over to where the weyrleader crouches and rewards his attention with a gentle headbutt that is not so gentle. She's not so big yet, but she has grown and doesn't seem to realise this. So, bump goes the head. All while Miniyal lets out an annoyed sigh and waits for this to be done so she can get back to washing. "If you're going to encourage her, sir, you can wash her and I'll get to be dry for once this time of day. It's not like-" Whatever that thought was she snaps it off before it gets out. That means it likely was something he could take the wrong way. So she keeps it to herself. No sense encouraging him. Arms folding over her chest she stands in the water and just waits. At some point she will get to continue her work. At some point she'll manage to convince the baby dragon that she should not encourage the bad man.
R'vain lets out a soft 'oof' at the headbutt and nearly loses his crouch in favor of a sudden seat on the stone, but catches himself by putting down a knee onto the edge of the pool hard enough that it makes the joint crack. At this, the Weyrleader winces, but puts away further protest behind a grit of teeth and a hand outreaching to stroke a golden face. The other slings the now-wrung towel up onto his shoulder. For a moment, Peloth has his complete attention; he grins at her in an entirely unslavering way. It's not too long, though, before he glances up and over at Miniyal again. "I wouldn't want t'take away from y'time with her," he points out, so kindly. "But I can help a bit, f'you want, before I got t'get again. 'Not like'?" The prompt's deliberate but gentle.
"Oh. Nothing. Get back here, brat. You've hurt him enough. . .for now." Smiling sweetly over at the man who received the head butt she glances away a moment and then mumbles, "Are you alright? She hasn't quite realised that doing that to people is bad. I've told her not to." Well, she may not have tried to stop her from doing it to /this/ man, but that doesn't need remarking on. Not when she's stuck with that offer. What to say, what to do, what to say? In the end she just nods once and rolls her eyes. "Fine." And more grudgingly, "Thank you, sir." Peloth heads back to where her rider waits. Bath time! That's all she seems to need to know.
"I'm fine," R'vain says, though he says it before he proves it. To prove it requires gingerly getting himself back up off of that knee into the crouch, wincing, then straightening to a stand, which seems to bother him less. There's no further cracking. "She'll do it t'you sometime and you'll crack your tailbone good or something; she'll figure it out then. That it could hurt someone." The Weyrleader shrugs, like this doesn't trouble him particularly. He even grins at the little queen as she heads back for her bath, shaking his head a little. "Better let me have th'dry side, if you want I should help. You're dressed f'th'water." And he's not. Which leaves only a couple of options, and him to suggest one, though not without a flash of green fire that makes plain he's considered the other. Toward the queen and her rider he prowls, then, and prompts again, "'Oh, nothing?'"
"Move, brat," fondly said so she must be referring to the brat not on two legs. Not that she would use such a word on him. Not when there are so many other ones that apply. "And, she'll move eventually when she realises you're not coming in. Or not. You might get lucky." Miniyal rolls her eyes and shoves uselessly at the one getting her bath. "Back up already, your breath is horrid." Rather than wait for her to back up she ducks around to the side, placing the dragon between her and the weyrleader. "She's done it already. But nothing broke. So I guess until I'm not around to bathe her every five minutes she won't learn." Shaking her head she does little in the way of washing. It's not a real bath, it's not needed, going through the motions seems to do the trick often enough. "Nothing. I was going to say something and thought better of it. Considering the audience. I have to be nicer, you know. Before one of your vicious defenders threatens to hit me again."
R'vain toes up to the edge of the water again, then crouches to roll up his sleeves and soak his hands. He soaks the towel again, too-- it's here, so he may as well use it-- then straightens to reach for a span of golden hide. Like Miniyal, he does not bother to 'wash' her; he settles for stroking the queen with wet cloth and hands. "Vicious defenders?" Another prompt, though even from across Peloth's body R'vain's voice is clearly more amused than pointed, now-- that could have been almost rhetorical. "Min'yal, y'obliged t'salute and 'sir' me. Ain't obliged t'hold y'tongue between th'sirs." /That/ might be almost an invitation to speak her mind.
Miniyal's eyes roll, although it's not like he'll see with her safely on the other side of the spoiled brat. "I ever held my tongue with you, sir? I don't recall that happening very often and usually then because I saw no reason to give you any sort of chance to make a comment that was overly lewd." Lewd, in place of so many words she could have used. It's a nice simple word. And comes right before a croon as Peloth enjoys her attention. But she keeps most of her reactions other than that to herself. Or shares them only with her rider. "Ella. Took offense to my calling you an ass. Which is dumb because if she knows you, and I'd say sharing a bed is knowing someone enough, she'd know you're an ass. Still, it's so cute when people get defensive for you. Makes me all warm inside to know my fearless leader is thought so well of. At least by some. Some think you're being overly protective. Others just don't trust you and wanted to know what you're doing."
R'vain grins and shakes his head for 'overly lewd,' as if he finds Miniyal's word choice exactly as amusing as it is, and works his hands and cloth up along Peloth's foreshoulder. "Ella /knows/ I'm an ass. Don't mean she'd like th'way you said it. Maybe she's seen better of me than you, though." He moves as if massaging, his palms as hot as the water they bathed in, making slow circles with a little pressure behind them. He's limited, of course, to what he can reach without encountering danger of falling into the drink. "Don't mind being thought overly protective. S'another way of saying I try t'plan ahead. Who wants t'know what I'm doing and can't figure it out, Min'yal? I'm tryin' t'run a Weyr, it don't seem too cloudy t'me."
"All I did was call you his high and mighty jackass. Like I haven't said worse." Pausing, Miniyal's head tips to one side and she frowns. "Fine. I've not said worse outside to a very select group of individuals. You /are/ my weyrleader. But that doesn't mean I have to treat you like you don't fuck up." Between them, Peloth twists her head back and forth to look from one person to the other. Although she seems more interested in watching R'vain at the moment. "Ginella. Before she left for Benden and before. . .well, before my work sort of had to be put on pause I had approached her about doing some work and she wanted to know what you and Roa were up to is all." Biting her lip she falls silent. "Speaking of, umm. Don't keep things from her just because she's pregnant and all. She's going to think you are. If she doesn't already. Which I am not saying. At all. Because you didn't ask me to watch her and I am not and I am not, umm, sharing things she may have said. Or anything. But, umm. Right. I didn't pry. And she didn't ask me to pry which is dumb because I could have found things out easily enough but she's still sensitive about that I think which is not going to do her much good considering her inclinations to want to do so much. You can't change things without knowing what people are up to is all while you're trying to do things. Look. I'm just going to be quiet now and you can, umm, go. Right. Umm. Sir."
The Weyrleader actually laughs, a sharp rough bark, at what Miniyal called him in her conversation with Ella. The rest of her words make him a little more mellow, though; his stroking of the damp-hided queen slows, and he looks up thoughtfully, as if he could see her rider through her bulk. "It don't," he rumbles, low, about what his rank doesn't mean; he repeats Ginella's name in much the same thoughtful tone. Then he's rubbing down Peloth with renewed interest, listening while Miniyal's tongue gets ahead of her. In the ensuing silence (against the backdrop of distant water sounds and echoing droplets) he notes, "Y'trying t'help me." Simply put, and not at all rhetorical.
From behind the bathing dragon there is silence. It's a lingering silence that is interrupted only by those sounds of water. Miniyal nudges and the wing nearest her stretches so she can go through the motions under it. When the wing comes back down she reappears, shoving playfully at Peloth's head. "Fine, brat." Looking up she folds her arms over her chest as she looks at R'vain. "Don't get any ideas at all. None. Just because I'm-" Frowning she wrinkles her nose before continuing. "Look, I just mean that I am only trying to help because I have no other clients right now is all. Alright? That's it. It's not like I wanted to nice or anything. So don't go getting the wrong thought in your head because I still don't like you."
"Didn't have any thoughts even remotely resembling you likin' me," R'vain assures her. All of the wing-and-hiding business has either gone right over his head or else he's willing to pretend as much, but now he puts down a hand into a loose fist against his hip, jaunts his posture and rubs Peloth one-handed, more attention on her rider now. "Had th'thought you'd rather I not fuck up than th'alternative. That's all. But about th'clients." He turns his head halfway, presenting his bent-nose profile; his eyes twitch and narrow and for a minute he seems to do nothing but listen. Then, "Ginella letcha go?"
"Well, you get ideas is all and I wanted to be sure you knew where we stood. Is all." So, there. Miniyal blinks and wipes water from her eyes after there's a bit of splashing from Peloth who tires of not really being washed and wades off. Hmph. People. She flicks her tail down into the water at the both of them. Her work here is done. "Well, you're going to fuck up," are the first words out of her mouth when she's no longer got any shield at all. "But, yes. I'm just trying to make things go as smoothly as possible. And I don't know. I haven't seen her since she's been back. She might not want me anymore. Considering I'm rather stuck for over a turn. And, well, technically at the end of that period she'd sort of be asking me to spy on myself."
The Weyrleader watches Peloth off, but backsteps a quick pace from the water's edge when the droplets flung by her tailtip sail his way. "Ginella's a bit brash t'think it should matter t'her what we're 'planning' for High Reaches," R'vain points out without any real intonation of bitter or rebuff. "What's she trying t'do, ingratiate herself t'M'arik? Suppose there's sense enough in that, but M'arik'd be better suited t'ask politely than t'seem he's sent his junior t'Caucus f'th'primary purpose of lookin' in on our leaders." A beat, and he looks back at Miniyal, tossing the towel again over his shoulder (his shirt has a growing dark spot from the damp) so he can rest both fists lazily on his hips. And jaunt. "We're both goin' t'fuck up, weyrwoman. Behooves us t'minimize it any way we can."
With no dragon to keep her in the water, Miniyal wades up after the reason she was there in the first place. Then she pauses and frowns a moment. Her clothes are across the way and would make talking harder so she doesn't move just yet. "I'm not sure she really knew what she was asking for. It was really just a spur of the moment decision to offer her my services anyway. To see what would happen. Honestly, I didn't think she'd take me up on it. And I can't really track her down right now. What with not being allowed to do anything." Wincing a moment at something she shakes her head. "Could you please just call me by my name? I'm used to fucking up that way. And of course I am going to. I'm going to do a worse job than. . .than you. That's how bad it's going to be. But can I least do it as a person and not a title?"
R'vain rumbles thoughtfully, his sole comment on Ginella at this point that, accompanied by a squint off Peloth's direction again. But Miniyal's wince and words about herself draw his attention back to her, and for a moment he gifts her with the brilliant glare of one of his kinder grins. "Sure," he replies, "but y'can't expect everyone y'meet t'call you Min'yal. /I/ don't mind. Once you're out from under D'ven you call me by my name, y'like. I only answer t'high-and-mighty-jackass if there's no one else in th'room." A beat to let her appreciate his generosity and sense of humor. "Now you're that thing I ain't s'posed call you, though. I wondered if you'd be interested in bein' a little more discerning about y'clients."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of using my pet name for you in a crowded room. People might get the wrong idea. No, that'll be between you and me from now on." Miniyal pauses here a moment and grins slowly, lowering her voice just a fraction before finishing her statement on that title. "You know. When we're alone." Then she winks and then she must duck her head a moment to stifle a quiet laugh. "Anyway. I don't even have a name right now. I'll be lucky to remember what it is by the time I graduate." Shaking her head she wrings out water from the bottom of her shirt and sighs. "I only have one client right now, sir. That's you. I've thought about talking to Ashwin, but I'm not sure how he'd take it. D'ven said he might be interested once I graduated in taking up my services again, but that remains to be seen."
That she makes sport with him, that she uses this particular method to make sport, has R'vain laughing again-- no sharp little barks of laughter, just a series of soft chortles, held back from something more raucous by the flattening of a paw across his stomach. When he has himself mostly recovered-- she's telling him she hasn't got a name at that point-- he returns her wink, and half-turns from her to grin his broadest grin out at Peloth. Better than turning it on Miniyal, lest she think the wink more than it was, and never mind what they might look like to someone else. "Wondering," he says at last-- he has to put a little silence between his laughter and this-- "If you'd consider th'possibility that th'Weyr's your real client, now."
Peloth has settled by the water, mostly enamored with trying to see her reflection in that water, but knowing enough to pay attention when there is talking going on. Since it rarely ends well and all. Besides, she might get to be the center of attention again so much keep an eye on both and be grinned at. "Things'll be different when I graduate. I'll reevaluate where I stand then. For now. . .I have to have something to keep my mind off things. Otherwise I'll go crazy. I'm already not allowed to /do/ anything at all. Which is a complete waste of my talents and my time. I'm perfectly capable of keeping up with everything. And you don't want me bored. Who knows what I'll do if I get bored. I couldn't even say. Peloth and I are doing fine and I'm not mucking with the program even though I've thought of plenty of ways that I could and other than the truly stupid rules I haven't even broken any. At all. Which, all combined makes me itch and feel like I'm not doing enough of anything. Or maybe it's because I spend so much time in the water that I feel like I itch?" A glare, directed at the cause of that, not that the glare means anything at all when given by Miniyal to her brat. With a heavy sigh she brushes a few wet strands of hair off her face where they've managed to come free of their bindings. "Look. I know everything's changed and I know everything is going to change and responsibility and demands and all that stuff, alright? This isn't some game for me. I know that. But I need time to process it at my own pace."
"So process," R'vain invites, turning his grin from the gold to her rider with complete ease and maybe a little deference-- he does at least nod a bit to Miniyal, for all he keeps on grinning. "At y'own pace. I ain't tryin' t'get you t'stop what's in your natural inclinations, y'know. Just pointin' out you got a whole Weyr right here, /your/ Weyr I think y'said, and it's asked f'your talents and time." He tips his head sideways then, a gesture at Peloth, though he does not this time look away from Miniyal to consider the queen directly. His green gaze sticks to the weyrling, fierce and shining, and not at all unhappy. Pleased, maybe. "/I'm/ just askin' you t'consider th'request." /Then/ he's done with the sport of extreme eye contact, and turns from her to crouch and whip off the towel, so he can dip it anew in the hot water.
As much as it pains her to do so, or more accurately as hard as it is for her to do so, Miniyal does not try to avoid the eye contact. Neither does she fidget or squirm under it, but she's had some practice being still under unwanted attention from him. "I so need a drink," muttered softly as she decides to examine bare feet. "I'll consider it. But only because you're my favorite client. Which is only because you're the only one I have." Head tipping to the side she heads over towards where her dry clothes are now and sits down on the ground to sort them out, not changing just yet. "You know H'kon? I mean, talked to him much?"
R'vain busies himself wringing out his newly-hot towel, though he does take a second to rumble, "Join th'club," before Miniyal goes away to tend to her dry clothes. "Know of him, sure. Arekoth's. Two-cee. Quiet. Vanya-- y'know, Vanya-- " As if her name needs to be repeated and emphasized for effect. You know, /Vanya./ "-- she was kinda stuck t'his arm one time in th'galleries, maybe when Tialith was clutching. What about him?"
Miniyal sighs and sorts out her clothes before peeling off wet ones to exchange for dry ones. She's changed in front of others and won't give him the satisfaction thinking she cares either way about doing it front of him. Besides, he can watch the curious dragon trying to examine herself in the water. "Right. He's sharing her with D'ven. Open-minded of him and all. Just wondered if you'd talked to him much. He's very, hrm. He's very inclined towards your way of thinking more than your weyrwoman's. I just thought it was information you might want to know is all. He's interesting enough once you get him talking."
R'vain finishes wringing his towel and slings it around his neck again, straightening as he does so, then turns; he finds Miniyal midst-changing, and half-turns back, ostensibly to look at Peloth admiring herself in the water. He doesn't quite turn all the way back-- if she will make a show of being able to change in front of him, he'll be casual about it. "Don't think D'ven's got th'time to keep up his side of th'bargain anyway, th'way he's working you weyrlings. Every other time I see him he's lookin' like someone painted blue-black under his eyes. -- S'pose I should talk to him, then. A bit more. Or listen to him. Supposing," and assuming maybe that this has been time enough for her to be mostly dressed, R'vain turns back to face Miniyal again, prepared to be blase about it if he's wrong, "I can figure out how t'get him talking."
She is buttoning the last buttons on her shirt, not having bothered to tuck it in. Socks and shoes come next and it's not like bare feet are a problem. "He needs to sleep more." Oh, she makes no comment at all other than that. "He tries too hard. All the stomping and yelling and so on." Shaking her head she ties her boots and rises to her feet. "Yea. You have a knack for getting people to talk. Anyway, sir. I've taken enough of your time and someone's starting to get whiny about wanting to eat. And, of course you itch, brat. You live in the water. You are not a water creature. At least you have someone to oil your stupid big hide." Rolling her eyes Miniyal looks over and grins. "If you'll excuse us, sir? Thank you for your time and sorry to have been a bother and all." With a weary 'I'm doing this under duress' attitude she comes to attention to salute properly.
The Weyrleader snorts for his 'knack' for getting people to talk, but suffers the rest of Miniyal's remarks anyway-- with a grin, even, a tame one, as he looks back at the subject of her comments about itching and oil and not being a water creature. "I'll excuse you," he agrees, and looks back in time to catch the salute. His grin turns crookedly sly and he tips his head, eyes smirky, so the distance from hand to temple is not so much. He tosses off a salute like it's no trouble, no trouble at all-- and sets out for the bowl with his hot towel.