Who

Daenerys, Xanthee

What

Nostalgia abounds as two candidates end up in the very place they had first met over two turns ago.

When

It is afternoon of the tenth day of the fourth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Laundry Rooms, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 20 Feb 2018 05:00

 

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"You know where we are right?"


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Laundry Rooms

The laundry rooms at Igen are vast, lined with barrels of varying soap concentrations and shades: darks, lights, and colors. However, it seems that some laundresses are less finicky with this rule as a peek into any of them reveals clothes in various states of cleaning are from all shades of life. The room does smell mostly pleasant with the soap, but the laundry sticks are old, worn, and smell rather of mildew. High ceilings echo the gossips of the workers here, and lines of drying laundry criss-cross overhead for when it's too wet or sandy to line-dry outside.


Oh my, but there is cleaning to do already — that one shirt Daenerys always wears is due for some soapy loving care, along with his loose running pants. Mm mm, nice and grimy they be, with half the grit of the Weyr bowl ground into them. Held balled and wrinkled in one hand, they might even be a tad stinky with the effluvia of masculine youthfulness. The Trader-turned-Candidate strolls on in, and finds himself a small barrel to begin cleaning his gear, dressed in black harem pants and a loght, long sleeved shirt. His feet are, oddly, bare, the soles quite dirty.

From behind some of the larger barrels in the back, a loud girlish voice. "What dimglow put a red shirt in with the whites?" And then Xanthee is wandering into view with a dripping red garmet in her hands as she starts looking through the larger barrels for the darks wash. But then she spies her adopted brother and smiles slihtly in his direction before finally finding the right barrel and putting the wayward garment back with it's kind, as she rubs her hands on the apron she is wearing to cover her simple green dress, she walks over to him, "Doing your own?" and then the smell from the balled up clothes reaches her before they are dumped in the barrel and she stops short of him, giving him a wide berth. "Appreciate it." she says with a chuckle before her eyes light up and she gets a michievous smile on her lips, "You know where we are right?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him in question. Will he remember or won't he? Xan's not sure, but she's curious to find out.

Daenerys is paying no attention to the voice behind the curtain until its owner addresses him directly. And then he looks up to find Xanthee wisely refusing to come in close for a good whiff of stables and a long run. "Yeah why make you suffer." Because he isn't thrilled about washing this stuff either, but scrub he will anyway. It's only fair. "Uh… the laundry?" He asks, eyeing Xanthee askance.

"Yes..that's right." Xanthee nods, her eyes dancing, "Where during my first candidacy, when I was having a panic attack about the upcoming Hatching, I met a certain long-haired Tanner." She then giggles a little bit as she goes around peering in other barrels to make sure there are no more garments where they shouldn't be, cause she should at least keep up the appearances of working while she talks.

And now she's mentioned it, Daenerys does remember, and chuckles mercilessly. "Didn't our current Weyrleader slap you?" He asks slyly, grinning over his shoulder at Xanthee. "Because you couldn't stop crying?" He also remembers feeling a little sorry for that lost young girl. "You were so upset."

Xanthee is busy picking through a pile of sheets in the corner, making sure there are no sneaky dark garments mixed in with the white fabric of the sheets. She chuckles though back at Daenerys, "You are very correct. He impressed at that Hatching, so he was only a lowly Candidate like I was." Although that doesn't stop Xan bringing it up whenever opportunity strikes. "And it was you telling me that I didn't have to be a rider just because I was the kid of one that made me realize I really wanted to be one." She says softly, "So thanks for that."

Daenerys finally finishes up the de-mucking of his clothes, and sets about rinsing them clean. "Well, good; at least you want this for yourself, now, instead of because you're 'supposed to'." He can't think of a worse fate than being trapped in a trade not of one's own choosing. "It's why I only Stood once."

Xanthee tilts her head at that, pausing in her bundling of the sheets into a nearby steaming barrel. "You've stood before? When?" She asks, her emerald eyes round in surprised that she hadn't heard about this before now. She picks up the next pile of sheets and dump them into the same steaming barrell before moving over to fetch some soap from the supplies.

Daenerys shrugs dismissively, lifting his shirt out to hang it on the line to dry. "Oh, I was pretty young, maybe fourteen or so. My foster mother hated the idea. But the Headwoman had word that I should." And boy, did his father ever suggest - in that mild tone of his that brooked no argument - rhat Daen would have to do it, like it or not. "I hated it. And vowed never to do it again." Oh, the stubbornness of the young!

With his last, Xanthee looks pointedly at the white knot he's wearing now, "So what changed your mind now then?" She asks, genuinely curious. The dark haired girl then measures carefully the soap into her steaming barrel before picking up a long stick and starting to agitate the contents of the barrel with a circular motion.

Yup, there it is: proof that he's as contrary as can be. Daenerys finally gets his pants hung, then turns to Xanthee with a shrug. "For the experience. Now I'm older and whatnot, I think I didn't give the thing a fair shake, so I thought it might behoove me to see if perhaps I could enjoy it a little bit." He laughs softly for that young and prideful boy long gone by. He stirs a barrel of darks, idly; they're not his, but he should try to be helpful, shouldn't he?

Xanthee has a funny sort of look on her face for her heart-brother before she shakes her ebony head, "I can see that for sure. Doing things on your terms is definitely you." she adds in a tone that obviously carries no judgement or anything, just simple observation in their two plus turns of friendship. "So what have you been assigned so far?" Xan asks as she sees him help out, a warm smile of thanks beamed in his direction.

"What," Daenerys asks with mock suspicion, "does that mean?" Well he knows what it means: he's a very contradictory kind of man, preferring his own counsel to others' , always out to prove that he can do it himself, thank you very much. And also, it will always be the opposite of what's expected. And then he grins at her to show he has no ill-will for her at all. "I got a lot of stall mucking so far."

Xanthee giggles at the mock-suspicion, "I may come off as a silly wherry-headed girl sometimes, but I'm rather observant I'll have you know. And don't worry, it's one of your most endearing qualities brother-mine." She says with the little purr in her voice she used to use when she tried to flirt with the man before they grew as close as siblings. Then she wrinkles her nose at stable mucking, "Yeah, not looking forward to my next turn at that. I always end up covered in manure." and she sticks her tongue out in distaste as she continues to stir at her barrel of sheets.

Those were the days! Daenerys would well remember them, were they to be brought up. As it is, he merely laughs at her purring at him. "Save your charm for that Miner of yours, dear." He does, however, award her points for a small but of truth there: "And yes you can indeed be very observant." He's done enough stirring pf this literal pot: the laundry needs more soaking. "I swear they save it for us.

Xanthee's smile falters for just a second at the mention of Mal, but she gets it back easily, and decides that moving to a more neutral subject is safest. "Oh you would not believe some of the nasty things I've found in the dirty clothes pile they left for us today." She makes a gagging sound. "On top of a whole load of diapers from the nursery…" Xanthee shudders as she finishes stirring her own barrel and puts her hands on her hips, arching her back until there are several loud pops. "I don't know what I am going to do first after this, eat or soak in the baths, I thought being in better shape than last time, chores might not be so bad..I was wrong."

"Was it from the elderlies? Theirs is always particularly noxious." Worse than animal poo sometimes, from the mournful expression Daenerys wears. He doesn't even want to consider baby diapers: those things scare the very life out of him. He stretches hinself out, then wrinkles his nose at thestate of his braid , gone fuzzy without the usual meticulous attention given it. "Mmm…it's a different kind of work out, isn't it," He sympathize s, "I need a bath."

Xanthee looks a little bit nauseous of the thought of adult diapers and gives a visible shudder at that. "Yeah, no these were baby diapers…" and then the raven-haired girl trails off slightly and averts her eyes before swallowing slightly she grabs onto Daen's last to quickly change the subject. "Yeah, I guess that's why I wasn't a very good Drudge, I hated all this tedious manual labour. Give me a crazy shift at the Tea Room anyday." Then she is untying her apron and grinning, "Well I'm headed there now if you want to join me." she offers as she heads to the door, and whether or not he follows, the girl will head out in search of a long soak to soothe sore muscles.

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