The kitchen staff didn't notice Nasrin striking out into the bowl once the day's last meal was well underway. The clouds above twine and nest in greying shades of purple and once-white as evening has fallen. The air feels like the weather wants to do something, but no one's quite sure what to anticipate. Nasrin, separate from Rajakhelath, knows exactly where to go. Once reaching the mirror caverns, she checks for occupancy and finding none, she sighs with an echo to spare. She strips off her robe and layers of clothing, each item dropping into a puddle of sage and ochre-colored fabric. The water temperature is not that cold, but it does leave the impression of gooseflesh on her skin until she's totally enveloped. Then, gulping air, she kneels and sinks into the water, not even bubbles let to the surface.

Sometimes a place can look unoccupied when really it isn't. On a ledge about a man's height above the water's surface, lying on her back, Ryott is watching the light play off the domed ceiling, quite hidden from view from below. Dark eyes broody as she is lost in her own thoughts until she hears movement below, which snaps her out of her reverie. The echoed sigh of relief then the sounds of water being disturbed are all assessed before she turns onto her stomach and shuffles carefully to the edge to peer down. She's able to see the subtle ripples on the water causes by Nasrin but that is all. Peering over further, her head with it's short crop of dark hair is clearly visble now as she does a thorough visual appraisal of the situation.

Nasrin's long dark hair is an oil slick as it floats independent of gravity within the water. Thirty seconds go by and the water has nearly gone back to perfect again. Below the surface, Nasrin closes her eyes as her ears have already filled with water. Her pulse slows in rhythm as the minute marker comes. There's the distant sound of water trickling from the small waterfall, but it's a source that may as well be a league away. If anyone else is here, the figure in the water does not react.

Ryott narrows her eyes as she thinks she can make out something/someone in the water, but the fading light make it hard to discern what is and isn't reflection or shadow. Shuffling further down the ledge, she continues her search, knowing that eventually, if there is someone in the water, they will need to surface for air. Curiosity takes hold of the teen as she shuffles out far enough to hang her head upside down to peer under the ledge itself in case whoever else is in here is in her one blind spot.

Alas, the junior's body begins its craving for oxygen after a couple of minutes have elapsed. As if stirring from hibernation, the crown of Nasrin's head starts to break the pool's surface. Her nose follows and the first breath of air pushes the water aside for only a moment as she blinks her eyes back open. Dim indeed, it takes a few moments for them to adjust. An alteration of light, a scuff, a head that shouldn't be there… Nasrin's heart reels and her lips are bared above the water. "Identify yourself, loiterer," the request unnegotiable as a directive.

A couple minutes is rather impressive to Ryott, someone who really only knows the basics of not drowning when it comes to swimming. When she sees the woman surface, she doesn't recognize her, but is too slow to pull herself back up before being spotted. With a grimace, her cold mask of indifferance re-asserts itself over her features. "Is loitering not allowed then?" she asks with a deadpan delivery before she shuffles to sit up from her prone position, legs swing over the edge, and she leans over to reveal more of herself to Nasrin. See? Just a girl, nothing to worry about. "Name's Ryott," she finally concedes to the goldrider's request.

When Nasrin tries to sit, this depth is straight up to her face. So some repositioning is in order until it then laps meekly against her collarbone, blue as necklace beads. "Not if you want to see things you may wish you didn't." Slicked away from her forehead, the young woman's hair spreads around her shoulders, a viper's hood at rest. "Ryott," she tests the name against her memory. "Not one I recognize within the Weyrfolk. Should I?" The question's earnest, she prides herself on some functions. "My name's Nasrin, one of the riders here."

"I don't make a habit of peeping on people," Ryott remarks dryly as she keeps her eyes on Nasrin's face for politeness sake, and because she's pretty non-plussed with nudity, using the public baths and all. "But why would you swim out here naked? Anyone could just walk in here," she gestures to the entrance, kind of perplexed as to why the woman's so prickly if she put herself into the situation. To her question, Ryott easily shakes her head, "Nope, not Weyrfolk. Well met Nasrin." That name niggles something at the back of Ryott's mind, but she can't quite remember why right now.

"It's crossed my mind to have Rajakhelath guard the entrance, but then may as well have a sign this is where I am. Really, it's why I came at night here and not the lake, far less silt." Her voice has the harper-taught desert inflictions of the Steen family. Extending some limbs and reorganizing the bend of others, she 'walks' along the bottom via hands and knees. "And I don't swim here, not if you mean in the traditional function of Seacrafters." She stops moving to tip her head to ask of the wall climber, "do you?"

Tilting her head to one side, Ryott continues to to ponder the rider below her. "Ok, not swim then…soak? Sink? Whatever you're doing, there's these things called swimming suits, they cover what needs to be so you don't wind up naked in public, you should look into them," she delivers her sarcastic in a dry and even tone, her own words have a faint touch of Bitran brogue, rough around the edges and running into each other alightly. "Look, you don't have to worry about me ok?" Ryott declares, giving her best innocent look, "I won't peek your bits when you get out, I'll even turn my back if it makes you more comfortable."

Nasrin buries her chin in the water as Ryott continues to chide her and periodically watches the snakes of light crawl along the walls and ceiling. "I don't really care if you're here, not enough to order you out. I just came for the silence." Which aint coming. Her head tips back, water filling her ears momentarily until the deep quiet has percolated some. "Do you do all your hiding in here or just some?" Her voice, without being able to hear its exact frequency underwater, hums in her head.

Order her out? Ryott's brows furrow further as she puzzles the pieces together and it finally clicks why she thought Nasrin's name was so familiar, she's one of the Weyrwomen. This has just gotten slightly more interesting for the spyling girl. "Well I appreciate being allowed to stay," she replies acerbically, "And I can totally sit here silently if you wish." She demonstrates this but putting her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her cupped hands and remaining so until the woman's next question, "Why would you think I was hiding? This ledge is really comfy, and it's cooler in here than out there." She nods meaningfully in the direction of the entrance.

"It's rock.." Nasrin replies wryly, a smirk on her face shown only to the ceiling. "And a while ago," her own speech still sounding a world away, "the sun slipped over the wall and the heat soon afetr. I ask because the bazaar doesn't easily let go of women and girls to enjoy snug rocks by the Weyr. If that is the case then I could forget I saw anyone else here." Heavy with water soaked in all strands of hair, she is slow in pulling her head back up until centered. Methodically wringing her hair out over her left shoulder. "I don't hear the name Ryott very often, it's memorable."

"Rock can be comfortable…" Ryott asserts before trailing off and considering Nasrin's next words. She's always been careful not to reveal her true alliances, liking the security of anonymity as she's explored the Weyr and it's environs. So sticking with what she knows, she smirks very lightly, "I ain't running from someone, trust me, I'm not the running and hiding type." Except when she is. "Don't you worry about me ma'am, I am plenty scrappy enough to take care of myself.' Running her hand over the soft brush of her hair, she actually chuckles, just for a flash, before she trains her lips back to their neutral line, "Yeah, after five kids, my parents decided to get creative of something, I dunno, I like to think it suits me."

Having no clasp or strip of leather, Nasrin leaves her hair gathered to one side. "If you aren't too bony," only dragon haunches seem to do stone beds truly justice. "I beg to differ, but the truth wouldn't set either of us free now would it?" Mostly rhetorical, the goldrider looks slightly sad, but once her eyes close in an extended blink, the cool serenity returns. "I hope it suits you," she makes her way to the spot where she left her clothes, having at least had a partial reprieve of daily existence. If some of the clothing trails in the water, so be it. "I leave the cavern to you then. Farewell." An echo hollows her timbre, doubling the number of Nasrin's only for a second or two!

Wondering what exactly Nasrin is begging to differ about, Ryott politely averts her eyes, just as she said she would, when Nasrin heads for her clothes. The goldrider's remark still being carefully analysed, the girl looks back down as Nasrin calls her Farewell, a nod of her head in the woman's direction, "Ok then. You have a good night ma'am!" she calls after before returning her gaze to the domed ceiling, deciding to wait until full dark to make her way back to the Caravan Grounds.