==== September 11, 2013
==== Yulena, H'ris
==== After a long day, two people just want to get clean and relax.

Who Yulena, H'ris
What Time to relax in the baths, and meet new friends.
When One Turn, three months and six days until the 12th Pass
Where Southern Weyr Baths


The steamy fog of the baths could be an entirely different world, transitioning from the well-lit brilliance of the inner caverns: a different world entirely, one wrought in dreams and humid fog. Steam lifts from hot waters, obscuring those who bathe within, drenching any who dare enter. Well-maintained, well-stocked, the baths offer pre-netted portions of soapsand in various scents, fluffy towels in orderly rows, and five separate spring-fed pools, all of differing temperature: from scorching hot to soothing chill.

A bath is a wonderful thing, at the end of a long shift. It is perhaps one of the few luxuries that H'ris actually allows himself. Case in point: the current moment in time, which finds the burly greenrider enjoying a good scrubbing in the pool of water that's not-quite-scorching. The one that's hot enough for lounging between soapings and rinsings. Currently, the big man is in the middle of a soaping cycle, working up a foamy lather that smells vaguely of mint. He's whistling as he works, a jaunty Oldtime trading tune that is only /slightly/ off-key. Only slightly. Nearby, an ugly-looking gold firelizard floats in crocodilian repose, her wings spread along the surface of the warm water to cut through the small islands of foam that drift nearby.

After a long day, the only thing Yulena wants to do is /soak/. Soak lonnnnng and harrrrrd, and this cook is about to make that dream come true, even if there's a weird smell to the room and some weird tune going on, but Yulena still waves a quick hello, "Um. Hi." Oh tuneless-one. She steps over to the bench and starts shrugging out of her clothes, down to the unnerpants, and dips into the same pool, which just so happens to be the right temperature for her mood. And it smells kinda nice right now. "How you doing?" In another voice, it would be a creepy hit-on, but for Yulena it's just another day of the week.

The presence of another in the baths isn't necessarily cause for alarm. It is, after all, a busy place at times. So H'ris doesn't really acknowledge the newcomer until she speaks, and then he turns to catch sight of her…or maybe to hide the criss-cross of scars across his broad back. Maybe the latter, as he sinks into the water a bit as he nods, offering a small, wary smile. Yulena's disrobing causes the greenrider's eyes to widen, slightly, and for a moment it looks like he might flee the pool all together. Then she's in the water, and speaking, and a definite conflict flickers across H'ris' face before the tension eases from his bulky shoulders and he rolls one in response. "Ain't bad," he rumbles, his oldtime Crom accent thick and laconic. Probably because of the steam. "Reckon as I'm better, now as I'm takin' a proper bath." Scrubbing begins again, albeit slower now. "How's things findin' you?"

Yulena stares at H'ris briefly and then she relaxes a little. "Baths are a much better place to be right around this time," she agrees, having entirely missed the flight-or-flight reaction H'ris had. "I'm doing fine, thank you," even if there's a bit of stiffness there, Yulena doesn't continue on that thread. "I swear, if one more drudge spills klah on me…" Sin of sins, one for spilling klah, two for spilling it on the cook, "You'd think they'd know better. Or at least give me time to get out of the way, or get a MUG or something!" Sheesh, you just can't find good help these days. "So… What would be an improper bath?" Hello, question out of left field.

"I've allus been a fan," H'ris rumbles with a crinkle of his eyes. "Of baths. Ain't nothin' like a good soakin'." He grins, and ducks to rinse the soapsand from his body, coming up to his neutral position from before. Comments about drudges gets a sympathetic tug of the greenrider's mouth, and he shrugs. "Reckon everyone has them days," is his wise insight. "When I were workin' in the Lower Caverns, I once dropped a load o' stone on my crew leader's foot. He swore for two days, an' limped for seven." His grin goes lopsided. "At least all you got to worry about is a stain, yeah?" There's no censure in the man's tone; he's just making conversation. The question stumps him, though, and he furrows his brow in thought a moment. "I reckon one o' them baths where you just wash your face an' your ass," he decides. "Like when you ain't got time to clean up proper, an' don't want to stink up the place. That ain't a /proper/ bath, even if'n you feel a bit cleaner after."

Yulena chortles, "Yeah, but with this group, I seem to have more than most." The very idea of a crew leader limping gets a straight-out laugh from Yulena, before she sobers, "Not always. At least if it's klah, it's a stain to stained clothes, but hot oil…" a little shudder, "Or boiling water. That'll mess your skin up for a very long time." Sad shake of the head, and then back to the baths, where Yulena's seizing some sweetsand and rubbing it over one arm, "Oh no, I've seen those baths. Never used one," the horror, "But they seem awful. I don't imagine you feel really clean after, do you." Slow, sad shake of the head. "It's like standing out in the rain, expecting to feel like you've just had a bath after." It just. doesn't. work. Sweetsand over the other arm and the cook starts whirlwinding her arms in the water a little, "And in a shower, you can't do this!"

H'ris wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, you don't want to spill no hot oil or nothin' on you," he agrees. "I reckon them are just as bad as dragonfire, in their own ways." He shakes his head in a slow mimic of the woman's, and raises his right arm to scratch under it. The big man's brow furrows as she talks about baths, and he narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "Huh," he grunts. "I didn't know they had actual baths for that. I generally make do with a cloth an' a basin o' water." He snorts a sound that might be a laugh, and shrugs. "But you ain't wrong. It ain't the cleanest you can get." He grins as he, too, winds his arms in the water. "Rainwater weren't ne'er this warm," he says. "E'en on the hottest o' days."

Yulena chortles a little, her arms still waving back and forth a little, "That it ain't." she replies congenially, and then takes some more sand to scrub below the waterline. Gasp! "I'm just glad the winter rains ended. So, your accent. You're not from around here, huh?" Are any of us, really? "Are you from Before? Are you enjoying the food here?" Clearly a priority, "I've tried using some older techniques with food preparation and they turn out very well." There's no real surprise in Yulena's tone at this, by now. "I could make something special, if you like." A strange offer, from a strange cook.

H'ris doesn't seem overly scandalized by under-the-water scrubbing, allowing himself to float back a bit so he can stare at the ceiling. "From before," he confirms, nodding with a sloshing noise. "I were from Crom, afore Impressin'." Not that anyone from this time would remember it as anything other than a ruin. Which makes the greenrider a genuine relic, of sorts. The mention of food brings him back upright, and his eyebrows pop. "I like the food here," he says. "I 'specially like them spicy fish rolls that they make here…you the one what makes those?" He ducks his head at the offer, shaking it lightly. "Oh, I ain't got to have nothin' done up special for me," he says. "I reckon I'll eat just about anything what's set in front o' me."

Oh, well. that's pretty cool, "You were at Crom before it was…" A weird linguistic twist can be the only explanation for that particular note, "Not as it is now?" Yulie's totally erred now, and she knows it. Let's find another subject, "OH, that's wonderful," about the food, "I've managed to delegate most of that out to Brel, but we came together on the recipe." Yulena's not about to take ALL the credit, "Well, if you ever have a craving," she avows, "I'll do my best to fill it." In case there's too much mango in H'ris' world. Since H'ris refuses to be scandalized, the cook just continues soaping a leg underwater. Then the other. In the interest of rinsing, toes peek from the water for a moment, before disappearing under again.

H'ris frowns. "Yeah," he confirms with a jerk of his chin. "It's kind o' strange to go back an' look at it, now. Like someplace I ain't ne'er seen before." Which seems a bit redundant, and he falls into an awkward sort of silence until Yulena changes the subject. "Them's my favorite," he repeats about the rolls. "I particular like fish t'eat. An' the actual fishin'." He closes one eye in a wink. "I reckon that beats a bath to bits; sittin' out somewhere with my line in the water." He catches the tip of his tongue in his teeth, and there's a gleam in his eyes as he crinkles them. "If'n I bring you back a passel o' fish, you reckon you could fry 'em up? I can roast 'em over a fire, but I can't do that fancy shit with herbs an' all."

Yulena huhs quietly, and then yeah, new subjets are great, "Well, we do have a lot of fish here. Hot fish, cold fish, baked fish, broiled, mangoe'd," and that gets a little eye twitch, "But if you bring me some fish you'd like done up, I'll personally do it to your liking," and wow, there's a promise, but Yulena is nothing if not a professional, "Herbs and all." But no mangoes, unless by special order. A sigh and Yulena's leaning back against the wall of the pool. "So…" Since food is done and somehow, she's not asking about Klah.

H'ris grins widely at the offer, and nods, eyebrows popping. "I'll sure an' take you up on that," he says, floating himself back to latch his own arms along the rim of the pool. Then something occurs to him, and he wrinkles his nose. "Um. What's your name?" he asks, a bit of color creeping into his ears at his own lack of manners. "I'm H'ris o' green Qyth. I'm in…" he furrows his brow. "Dammit. Why cain't I never recollect that wing name…Qyth…" the request is quiet, and then he snaps his fingers. "/Serval/ wing. That's it. Serval."

Yulena grins, mission accomplished! She just promised this guy… whose… "Um, well met, H'ris. I'm Yulena, Cook. Southern Weyr," just in case mysterious cooks are popping up. "Well met." Oh wait, "Serval! You ride under Nika!" Whether this is great news or not to Yulena isn't explained. "Is it fun there?" Well, maybe from Yulena's curious tone, she's expecting rainbows and flowers. A little sigh and Yulena's just letting herself driiiiift with the water. Mmmm, going with the flowing.

"Well met, Yulena," H'ris says, leaning his head back to rest on the edge of the pool. The question of his wing and its leader gets a small chuff of laughter. "Oh, yeah," he says, lifting his head to look at the woman. "I've known Nika since I were just a drudge. She's awesome." He pokes his tongue into the corner of his mouth, pushing the skin out in a thoughtful bulge. "I don't know about /fun/," he says. "It's a shitload o' work, preppin' for the Pass. An' I don't exactly let myself have no /fun/ while I'm on duty." He shrugs, and moves to hoist himself up out of the water. Hopefully, Yulena isn't put off by nudity not integral to the plot, since the greenrider has no evident shame as he collects his towel. "I hate to run out on ya," he rumbles as he dries off briskly. "But I got to scamper an' undo all my hard work with an oilin' which apparently cain't wait for another candlemark. One o' the hazards o' being surrounded by dragonhide, I reckon." He flashes teeth in his grin. "It were nice meetin' you, though."

Yulena huhs thoughtfully, "All that time. Well, she's still a very interesting person," Yulena mentions, like H'ris hasn't known that FOREVER and a day, "A breath of fresh air," because that sounds right, but add some rainbows and sparkly ponies too. H'ris' nudity is blinked a few times at, but it's time to live in the present, believes the one wearing underthings into the bath - it's a happy medium. "Well then. I'll be in the kitchens," slaving away over possibly fish, "If you find that … passel of fish." A dripping hand is raised from the water, fortunately attached at the wrist to the rest of Yulena, "Have a lovely evening. Or night."

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