Who

S'erc, Myziri, J'ack

What

In which a greenrider and two bronzeriders from Lynx discuss various topics whilst performing ablutions.

Nekkedness, since bathing was involved. Likely mild language, since Myziri was involved.

When

It is afternoon of the nineteenth day of the ninth month of the eighth turn of the 12th pass. It is the nineteenth day of Spring and 87 degrees. It is sunny and bright. White fluffy clouds drift lazily across the china blue sky.

Where

Baths, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 22 Aug 2016 07:00

 

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"It'll be good for us, though. Wingmates. Bonding. Potentially falling to our deaths as we hang from cliff faces."


baths.jpg

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.


It's the middle of the afternoon, which is the absolute best time to sneak to the baths for a scrubdown after a morning of actually working since it's quiet. That's right, he did something, even if it was just some morning drills or oiling up that bronze of his. That's work, ask him, he'll tell you. S'erc always does what's expected of him, even if he doesn't actually try and shoot farther and be better than anyone else. Adequate, trustworthy, and he's alright with those adjectives to describe himself. Just enough to keep himself out of the firing line, yet not distinguished enough to make a name for himself. Well, except for his wingmates, they know him. Sort of. He's not a socializer, never has been, more happy to skulk off alone than head out with a group to drink or be merry. Either way, he's got himself sunk in one of those pools of water, soapsand frothy and blessedly alone. There's others here, of course, they're just in the other pools chatting away.

And here comes Myziri, probably determined to ruin S'erc's little moment of sudsy solitude; well, perhaps she doesn't plan it, but when she spots him all on his lonesome in his pool she veers in his direction; she's hot, sweaty, and covered with dust from a long drills session (amazingly, the one S'erc came from. Must be a same wing kind of thing). She begins to peel off her leathers and boots, dropping them on or near the bench by the side of his lonely pool. "Hey, S'erc. Good work today in drills." She says conversationally as she divests herself of clothing "Mind if I join you? I figured we could discuss some things while we bathe." Again, whether he wants to or not. Is he really gonna say no to his wingleader, after all? She slips into the water, unconcerned about nekkidness (after a few Turns, that happens, right?) and begins to lather up. "I wanted to talk to you anyway, about applying yourself." Because she's noticed his whole 'do what's expected and no more' attitude, perhaps.

Who doesn't like a hot, sweaty, dirty… wait. No. That's the wingleader, so S'erc might see that she's coming towards him out of the periphery of his vision, but it's not exactly a good time to cut and leave, is it. Though, there is a moment where he attempts to calculate how long it'd take him to get out of the pool, put on at least enough of his clothing that he could be considered modest and leave. Despite the inner monologue that is intent on escape, S'erc gives a welcoming smile and lifts a hand. "Thanks, Myziri." Oh, the way he pronounces it is just like that other word, misery, but maybe it's supposed to be pronounced that way. His pale blue gaze flickers towards her while she divests herself of clothing, but doesn't linger long, and he just offers, "Sure. Come on in. I was almost finished." Yeah, that's the ticket. There is an arch of a brow as he wonders what she could possibly want to talk to him about, but then that becomes apparent when she starts on the path of application. "Applying myself for what?"

It's actually supposed to be pronounced Mi-ZEER-ee, but she's long since given up trying to convince people of that, so Misery it is; some would say it's more apt, any road. And inner monologue aside, she's not one to let her victim escape easily, so S'erc is TRAPPED. "Applying yourself to your duties." She continues, as if he hadn't spoken at all, scrubbing at one arm vigorously and not even looking at him because she's concentrating on her own bath, which looks to become a pretty quick one (so maybe this will be a painful but brief conversation). "You could be doing more, I think." Because she's been watching. "If you wanted to." This time, she looks up and over at him, a steady moss-green gaze that fixes on him like an death star tractor beam onto the Millenium Falcon. "You're one of the older riders in the wing, after all. You should be setting an example for our newer riders, don't you think?"

As S'erc is nearly done, he simply sinks himself under the water to his neck to get the rest of the soap off, rubs his hand over his chest to get it clean and then resurfaces. Well, not that he ever really went under. His hair is wet from being washed earlier, and from the look of his fingers he's been in the water a while already. Wrinkly. "Everyone could do more, the question is if they should." He says, like he has this conversation every day. "I could wear myself out, stay up late training, do more hidework - but what would it get me other than a headache and exhaustion? Eventually it all catches up to the person and either they get cranky, impatient, and generally miserable or they end up getting sick and unable to work at all. Neither is very good." He says, lifting his hand to run through his hair, meeting those steady moss-green eyes with his own blue, and quirking a smile that some would consider irritating. "I rarely ever get injured, Vulkasinth has always flown well. There is something to be said for a solid and steady presence. What more would you want from me? to be always in a hurry like you are right now?" He asks, winks, and then stretches his arms across the edge of the pool.

"I'm not asking you to be wingleader." Myziri says, eyes rolling "Come t'think of it, I didn't ask to be wingleader. Sort of got tossed in the deep end, as it were. But you're right. There's something to be said for solid and steady, and you do that just fine. But maybe you could take one of the new riders under your wing. We'll be getting weyrlings again any day now, and having someone experienced they can depend on.." she leaves that hanging. "And as you say - I've got enough shit on my plate already that I don't want to eat." And if that leaves a graphic TMI image in his brain, sorrynotsorry. "So I need you to step up a bit and help me out." She is making quick work of the bath; but then, it is her second one today. "I don't expect hidework from you beyond sweeps reports, and I don't expect you to stay up late training, though I wouldn't mind seeing your smiling face in morning PT a bit more often." She's noticed his absence there, believe it! "Don't think I have issues with your performance during 'fall though, because I don't. You're a good fit with the wing in that way. You just…" She pauses, trying to figure out how to put it. "You could be more sociable, I guess." She's figured out he's a loner, maybe? "Anyway. Just a thought. Just putting it out there." She dunks her own head this time, moving to scrubbing the thick mass. "That being said, how're you liking the new stuff I've implemented?" Because feedback is a good thing, right?

"I should hope not, I'd be a terrible fit for it." S'erc is honest, if nothing else, though he laughs. "Doing too much work and being too ambitious gets those kind of things handed to you. Just makes for more work, and more.. misery." See what he did there, uh-huh. Graphic image or not, he doesn't seem to care one way or the other - simply muses, "Aren't there more sociable riders that you can shove the new weyrlings-become-wingmates with? They tend to enjoy socializing and I'm more a sit on my ledge looking at the stars alone sort of person. I suppose if you find another as anti-social as me, we can not hang out together and nobody'd know the difference." He says with a smirk, trying to find the loophole in anything. "There's all sorts of personalities out there, Myziri. I respect those that want to run around and get their lights knocked out after a night of heavy drinking so long as they show up and perform their duties." He's certainly not giving up his loner lifestyle without a fight, though the question about the changes does get him to shrug lightly, "They seem fine, good even."

"Actually, I got made wingsecond as punishment, sorta, and since the wingleader and other wingsecond took off for Igen, I was kind of defaulted into the….oh, nevermind." Everyone knows how that went down, right? Myziri doesn't want to explain it again. She makes a face, though, at the play on her name and squirts a shot of water at him from her fist. "Yeah, yeah. I get it." Seriously - should a wingleader have cute little freckles across her nose? "Sure there are plenty of other riders..but they already have newly graduated weyrlings to take under their wing. I'm having to delve into the unsociable group now. Which would be you." And maybe a few others, that one bluerider who barely says two words together, for instance….anyway. "I didn't know you stargazed, S'erc. Sahizath and I do too. Well, more Sahizath, but she likes me to join her." She sends him a reproving look "And I do, because it's the sociable thing to do." As in, take one for the team, man! "It's not like I'm asking you to take them out drinking, for fuck's sake. Just be available for questions about riding, and to give advice." She dunks to rinse her hair, and when she comes up, wipes water from her eyes. "Fine. If I find one like that, I'll send him..or her..your way. Maybe we'll get that big weyrling. The one who barely says anything…what's his name? A'ha? No, A'hali. If so, he's yours."

"See, that's why you have to walk the middle road like me. Do enough that it doesn't draw attention, and not enough that it makes you look overly ambitious." S'erc says, like he's some kind of guru on just what to do to get by and no farther. Not that he wouldn't be excellent as a wingleader, or perhaps even more, but - well, he's lazy. Everyone knows it. But, he's also quick, and only gets hit with a bit of the water since he dodged most of it. Hah! He's lounging near the edge of the pool, arms stretched out to relax. "Pshh. Well, like I said if you find one that'll ignore me as much as I'll ignore them, then send him or her my way. Doesn't hurt if they're cute if I have to spend time with them though. So, keep that in mind." He says like it's some kind of shopping trip she's going on. Yes, I'll take the cute greenrider with the freckles on her cheeks. Please. "I have an antique stargazer in my weyr. Vulkasinth doesn't care so much about the stars, he just likes the view."

An unfamiliar, tall, dark-haired and broad-shouldered man walks into the baths, a fluffy white towel wrapped about his waist. He nods once to the bathers (perhaps doing a double-take at the girl with the freckles) and heads straight for the mirrored shaving area, grabbing up some foaming soapsand and a razor on the way. His legs sprawl comfortably as he takes a seat before his reflection, oblivious to anyone else around, observing the barely-there scruff about to be removed, running his hand across it thoughtfully. He listens without looking like he's listening to the conversation before spinning around. His accent is thick and unmistakable. "Did you say an antique stargazer? I have heard those things really help you see the stars up close."

"If I walk the middle road, S'erc, you and the rest of the wing would suffer. So probably it's best I'm wingleader and you're not." Oh so dry, those tones, as Myziri settles against her own section of pool's wall to soak, though she doesn't prop her arms along the edge, merely rests her head back and looks at the bronzerider through lowered lids; she watches J'ack wander past through as well, though only idly; he's fairly new to the wing and she hasn't quite gotten an impression of him so she takes an opportunity to study him; S'erc's mention of the stargazer, however, has her head turning back to him. "I'd like to try that out, sometime. Maybe you can be sociable enough to allow it? As J'ack there says, I imagine it brings the stars into sharper focus. Sahizath and I are usually content with enjoying them from afar." And usually while on a night flight. But since he's joined the conversation, she directs her next words to J'ack "So. How're you settling in? You'll let me know if you need anything, right?"

"I said there's all types, Myziri, I'm obviously not the same type of person as you." S'erc says with a light laugh, a little shrug, and giving her a smile. One of those smiles that looks smug, even if it's just meant to be polite. One thinks. His attention gets drawn towards where J'ack is, since she's watching him move, though he doesn't seem to have any recognition of the man. "Ah, yeah. It was a gift from my old.. weyrmate.." He pauses, tries to judge if that was even the right term for what they were, shrugs, and then continues. "Sure, either of you could come by sometime if you wanted. It doesn't move well from my ledge, it's one of the older.. larger.. ones." He muses, and sighs. Relaxing heated bath, really though, he ought to get out soon if he doesn't wish to become a prune.

J'ack is familiar! Thin lips widen in a smile as he regards his new wingleader and wingmate. "Just fine miss Myziri, thank you for asking." His warm accent adds something special to her name. "Of course I would. The klah here is wonderful. And the view." The jungles are much more scenic than what he's used to back home at Fort Weyr. "You're S'erc, right?" He nods to the other bronzerider, perhaps remembering him from before, maybe someone pointed him out? "I'm J'ack. Conneth's. Bronze Conneth's. Recent transfer from Fort Weyr. Well, that sounds like a date then. Although, the stars are beautiful as well from afar, I must agree."

"That'd be awesome. Except Sahizath will likely urge me to visit more often than you would wish. You might be getting more social whether you like it or not. So maybe it'll be our little secret." Myziri smirks right back, though it fades as she closes her eyes all the way, enjoying the heat of the water. "Y'know, I used to think I was happy being all back of the wagon, drinking and having fun. Amazing how one can change one's perspectives as they get older. More to life, y'know? Sure, I didn't ask for wingleading, but I'm going to do the job up right now I have it." Because that's who Myz is - pitbull through and through; once she gets her teeth locked in, she doesn't let go. One eye opens to eye J'ack after a bit "Just Myziri. No miss if you please." She instructs, "And glad to hear it. We do have some excellent klah. But if you want the really good stuff, you should try the Klah Bark up at the hold. And their pastries are to die for too. That is, if you aren't too tired out from all the PT and drills. And you've thought about joining in some of the other activities, right? Or do you already know how to use a bow and arrow and a knife? We're going to be rock climbing soon, now that spring's here." Just as soon as the rains are fully abated.

"I'm sure Vulkasinth wouldn't mind at all, for as unsocial as I am and unambitious, he's really my polar opposite. He's got a nice ledge." S'erc says, scrunches his nose, and then can't help but laugh again. "I'm older than you. Maybe I'm not meant to change, maybe I've never found I wanted or needed to. So far, it seems to be working out fine - so I've no complaints." He says, and then glances towards J'ack, "S'erc, right. Bronze Vulkasinth's, he's.. ah, yeah. Maybe recognizable." He says with a grin, and then laughs at the designation of the meeting as a 'date'. "Sure, a date. The three of us." He waggles his brows and for a moment looks completely serious that it's going to be one of -those- kinds of dates. Just a moment. "Oh, dear. More -exercise- based things. I was a trader too, realized quickly that sometimes a pretty face and a silver tongue can be worth a lot. I can talk you out of making us do those things, right?"

"Myziri, then," J'ack replies, his dark brown eyes twinkling. "Yes, there is something to be said for maturing, although it does make the bones ache!" He stretches those broad shoulders, moving muscles under that manly hairy chest. A note is made with a serious nod for the Klah Bark, to visit there. "I have some skills," is admitted with a mysterious raise of eyebrow. "I expect you will tire me out though. The Lynx wing seems extremely athletic. Much more than I'm used to." And that's about all the complaining you'll hear out of him. "Pleasure to meet you, S'erc." He can't help but grin at the other man's insinuating, although it's short-lived. "Ah." He looks to Myziri, to see if such a thing will fly. Can these two "old men" talk her out of making them do hard work? He sweeps a hand. "It'll be good for us, though. Wingmates. Bonding. Potentially falling to our deaths as we hang from cliff faces."

"He and Sahizath will get along well, then." Not; she's as unsociable as S'erc himself! "But that's for another day. I've got some reports to finish." And alas, this means an end to soaky time. Myziri heads for the shallower part of the pool, then the bench holding all the fluffy towels, using one to start to dry off after wrapping one around her hair. A laughing glance is sent back over her shoulder however, at the pool-soaking bronzerider's hopeful suggestion "Not a chance. I'm completely immune to silver tongues and pretty faces. You'll do the work, because I don't like people to die. And I want Lynx riders to be prepared for any situation." She turns her attention to J'ack "And that includes potentially falling to your death from a cliff face; if you practice, maybe you won't. Which reminds me, we should practice in the rain, too…" this said absently as she drops the towel and picks up the fresh clothes she'd brought with her, stepping into panties that are surprisingly wispy and unwingleaderish. They're also bright tangerine in color. "I imagine wet rock is harder to hold on to. I'm thinking we should practice rapelling down from hovering dragons, too. Doesn't that sound like fun?" She looks from one bronzerider to the other; c'mon, who wants to repel???

"I guess we'll see won't we." S'erc says, and as soon as she's getting out of the pool - so is he. Not being a stalker follower or anything of the like. He grabs the towel he had there, just beside the edge of the water far enough to stay dry but close enough to be there when he needs it. His hair is pretty well dry already, having sat in the water for as long as he has, as wrinkly as his fingers and toes appear to be. "I bet you do. As do I." He says with a laugh towards J'ack, "You make it sound like you're so old, but you can't be much older than me. Don't give us a bad name, a'right? I can keep up with anyone younger." He says, and while Myziri is getting those wispy unwingleaderish panties pulled on he waits for her to stand so that he can sidle up right behind her and whisper something in her ear. He barely touches her, just a brief brush before he walks over to where his own clothing is and grinning at her. "No. Doesn't sound fun at all. Some people enjoy reading books -all day long-. I'm one of those people. Don't mind if I fall asleep about thirty times while doing it. Don't expect others to love it as much as I do, either. Different strokes for different folks."

You sense S'erc just barely teases lips against the edge of ear, and murmurs, "Nice underthings. Here I thought wingleaders would wear spartan ones." It just looks like a brush when he walks by, but there's a definite drag of a finger along the pantyline and a little flick before he walks off.

J'ack nods once as he regards his young wingleader with respect, all sense of joking gone from his expression. "I don't doubt your wing - our wing - are prepared." As the lady rises from the pool, he turns on his stool away, towards the mirror, and begins to prep the foaming soapsand, so he can put it on his rugged cheeks and chin. He winks at S'erc in the mirror over the age comment. "I think we'll keep up just fine." He keeps his back turned, our of politeness, although he masks it by inspecting his jaw. "Wet rocks? Rapelling down from hovering dragons? Sounds like a day of fun to me." For serious, and by the look of him, he can hold his own doing these activities. But time will tell. "Reading is an excellent hobby too. I prefer adventure myself though. Anything to get the blood pumping. Good luck with those reports, miss - just Myziri." And he'll go on to finish shaving.

Whatever S'erc whispers to Myziri in passing, it has her blinking and pausing in adding the upper part of her lingerie to the little orange panties as she gives him a slightly confused glance; there's even a slight blush, which is likely what he had in mind, before she scowls at him and, completely ignoring his muttered words, says instead, "Reading is for the old. You just said you weren't old." She makes quick work of her boob binder and the rest of her clothes, which are comfortable and utilitarian and entirely spartan. "So you'll be joining us, grandpa." She nods at J'ack's words, pleased, "Thank you. They're pretty standard, so hopefully they won't take much time." She's seemingly unaware of his gentlemanly politeness and only seems to focus on his willingness to play the 'go along to get along' rider. "Excellent. And the obstacle course is almost finished as well." A project she's been working on for a while. "Everyone's going to love that. We'll be the fittest, most prepared wing in the Weyr." Whether they want it or not! She tugs on her last boot, then looks from one to the other. "Gentleman. I'll see you tomorrow for PT - or at least drills." Because NO ONE shirks those, or feels Myziri's wrath. S'erc gets an arch look to let him know she's talking about HIM specifically, than she gives a little finger wave and leaves them to it.

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