Daenerys, Suveren


Suveren and Daenerys meet in the baths and discuss… life.



It is 8:46 PM where you are.

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

In Igen:

It is the eighty-fifth day of Spring and 75 degrees. It is a clear night.


Baths, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Oct 2017 05:00


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Public Baths

Stout walls have been erected around several naturally formed pools, serving to provide a semblance of privacy and protection from the harsh wind and sand. Above the pools, well cleaned walkways criss-cross beneath tiled arches and descend with a stairway or two leading down to each pool to provide one means of slip-free access through the area. Surrounding the pools there are benches, receptacles to put used clothing and towels in, and areas to get sweetsand and towels from - if you didn't bring your own.

It's late in the evening when Suveren stumbles into the baths. He's not drunk really, just tired as he uncaringly strips down in front of everyone and moves over to one of the bath pools. His face is streaked with dust and sweat and frankly, he reeks of the kitchens - and not the good side of it. No, this is the smell of grease-drippings-gone-cold-and-then-sat-too-long, and the small bucket of soapsand Suveren takes to the baths with him is going to have to do quite a job on him.

Mmm mmm, just like home — his old home, that is; the old butchery and all that entailed. Daenerys is already up to his neck in hot water, soaking away the sweat and dust of his work: elbow deep in the leathers of the Caravan, getting them all prepared for repairing what looked like an endless stream of harness.

AT least leather has a nice smell with it. Suveren's entry into the pool sends waves all about and for a moment his eyes shoot open to look around the pool. "Sorry," he mutters, letting himself sink into the water and relax with a little groan. "Shards, it's been a long day," he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Pff, shit happens." Daenerys is not the least bit concerned about the mini tsunami that comes his way, riding it out with considerable aplomb, despite what might be mixed with it. Indeed he merely smoothes back his hair and continues with his soak, resting his head on the lip of the pool he's in as he allows his body to float in the warmth. "You're tellin' me, man?" He asks, sardoniclly.

Suveren cracks one eye open to look at Daenerys and nods. One long arm reaches over to the bucket of sand and pulls some close to let it foam and then scrubs it over his face, dislodging some of the sweat tracks. "Sure. Telling. Whining. Bemoaning." Whining. "Just… Fixing ovens and then the grease bin in the kitchens tipped over me. I got most of me clean, but ugh, I still smell it."

Definitely whining. But Daenerys is going to be polite and not point that out; see, he's a gentleman like that. "You're gonna smell that for at least a week. Worked in a butchery awhile — got that smell stuck in the brain, man. Swear I can still smell it and it's been a couple Turns." Mostly because he's now stuck with the smell of the Tannery in his nostrils.

Ducking his face into the water to rinse away the sand, Suveren looks up with a moue of disappointment. "Another week? Ugh!" Not one to at least try, Suveren grabs more sand and addresses his hair, scrubbing it in deep, dark red strands slashes against the soap foam. "Never been at a butchery but I think I'll be okay with that." He's gruff for a moment, and leaves his hair to start soaping up the rest of him. "You from around here? Haven't seen you in the Weyr." Pot, kettle; Suveren's pretty new himself.

Daenerys chuckles in amusement. "Yo, brah, I was kiddin'." It was simply too easy. He grabs himself a pail and begins sanding himself, starting with the hair and working his way down. Fortunately, he's more sweaty than dusty. "Don't recommend a butchery…" He grins, ducks beneath the water, and comes up mostly rinsed. "You're not likely to… I spend most of my time with the Traders."

Reaching back up to make sure his own hair is still in the cleaning cycle, Suveren's laugh is dry. "Ya got me," he says and shakes his head, "I can barely watch those dragons eat. I don't think I'd make it where I have to watch it happening." His hands, long-fingered and with well-kept nails, take more time and concentration. "Oh, a Trader! You're over with the Caravans then." Guessing. "How do you keep those so well-repaired on the roads?"

Daenerys laughs softly. "You get used to it." That, or the man's just too good at compartmentalizing things that are gruesome. Most would bet on thing the second. "Yep; with the Traders. And repairs are something we do. You learn, or you lose your wagon."

Suveren's eyebrows bob in acknowledgement but then as he rinses off a little before his hands move back up to soapy hair, the Handyman huhs a bit and then presses, "But, what if Thread's falling and suddenly your wheel breaks or somethin'? Can you fix something fast enough to get away?" Boy's clearly never been on a trading route. There's a moment for Suv to duck underwater and rinse his hair out, a soft 'ahhh' sound in satisfaction.

"It comes to that, you leave the wagon if it isn't Threadproof." Daenerys is matter-of-fact. "But my group? Experienced. We all have firelizards. We keep a lookout. And we got the schedule." Not that he knows so much about Traders, since he hasn't been with them long, but every single Trader he's ever spoken to has spoken of these things. "C'mon, man, it's the same for Journeying crafters, you know."

Listening intently, Suveren nods at the right parts and ahhs. A quick shrug, "I don't know nothin' about crafting. Never was interested in any of it so I just kept on at Bitra. An' now I'm here, handymandying and fixing the little things that get broke." Why the change, Suv doesn't explain but, "Can't imagine just bein' out like that in Threadfall." It's a terrible attempt at commiserating.

Daenerys has finished his bath by now, and hauls himself out of the bath, unconcerned that he might be flashing Suveren. They just spent the entirety of a bath naked at the same time, it doesn't actually matter by now, now does it. "Eh, I suppose I'll get over it soon enough." And on that — unexplained — note, he manages to dry himself, get dressed, and get out of the baths and on to the settling in in his new role in life.

The departure of the trader is unexpected, per Suveren's surprised face but ehh, it leaves him with a whole pool and one hand raised above the water in farewell.

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