Vosji, Xanthee


Just two people meeting over vats of dirty laundry.


It is noon of the fourth day of the ninth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Laundry Rooms, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 10 Dec 2017 05:00


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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.

Every single time Vosji is in the Weyr's laundries something either has gone wrong or is about to go wrong. It's become something of a law of Igen physics. Once upon a time, prior to her young Impression, she had actually worked in a laundry. This may be related, as it's now made her picky just enough about how things are done even two decades later — though she also tries to stay away as much as she can. Because of the way she tends to become the victim of pranks aimed for someone else, or slips on wet floors and sprains ankles, or possibly picks up pathogens that result in terrible sinus headaches — this time, though, she is holding already-folded, already-clean sheets and beginning to unfold them. A bronze firelizard perched on her head is the recipient of her monologuing, as the laundry staff tries to give the bluerider a wide berth, "And I realize it's clean, I do, but it's so dry. And starchy. And that's just not how you do nice sheets like this, and — no one is listening to me except you, Rias, are they."

Xanthee has memories about this place as well, like the time she became hysterical during her first candidacy nearly 2 turns ago and a certain current Weyrleader, then Candidate, had slapped the senseback into her. With a wistful sigh, the weyrbrat hikes her laundry bag higher up on her shoulder and looks around for a unoccupied barrel that she can use, having done drudge work herself for so many turns, she always feel bad about giving her washing to the laundresses, so she's made a habit of doing it herself. Her own trio, greens Banshee and Cersei, with bronze Grymm, are fluttering about her head chattering at each other. Banshee is the loudest, her mossy green hide glowing brightly as she trills and sqwacks with every step the ebon haired girl takes. With a an irritated wave of her hand, Xanthee snaps, "That's it! Away you nuisances." She yells and Banshee and Grymm blink out between, the younger Cersei just croons softly in her humanpet's direction. "You can stay, you are quiet at least." She says, calling the green to her shoulder.

Quiet and pretty. While he's normally loyal to a certain gold, bronze Rias expresses some interest in Xanthee's Cersei, letting out a curious chirp. Or maybe it's paternal, rather than thinking she's pretty; maybe he just thinks she's cute. "Excuse you," Vosji mutters, though it's at the firelizard and not at the new arrival. As it turns out, Xanthee's barrel is next to Vosji's, where she's still unfolding her sheets, "Er. Sorry. Not you," that one actually to Xanthee, "him. Up on my head, I'd rather he sit elsewhere if he's going to be having a conversation. The others aren't trained to assist?" It's a curious, quirked-at-one-end smile; is she implying most people's firelizards are trained to assist in laundry?

"Well since Banshee is so close to rising, Grymm's being rather possesive. Usally they are most helpful, today, not to much." Xanthee explains as she puts her bag on the floor by her barrel, opening it up and starting to throw pieces into the water to soak. She excuses herself for a moment to grab some soap and returns to add it to her wash, using a long paddle to really agitate the water without much effort. Cersei hides herself in Xan's long locks only her little green tail remaining uncovered. "Well Cersei is a little shy when it comes to strange flits, but she's still young." Xanthee explains.

Vosji's lips purse for a second as she considers the idea that the gaggle of irritators are, in fact, actually helpful, but curl back into a smile. "Impressive," gives away not at all whether or not she thought that was part of the point of firelizards. "He's old," is back to referring to Rias. "I mean, he isn't old, but I'd guess he is — about your age? No, I think he's probably older," she amends, after assessing Xanthee's face for longer than a quick glance. "I was probably your age when he hatched, if not a little younger. He likes to play benevolent uncle, rather like my dragon does, and will chitter at her about the local firelizard news for who knows how long." The sheets are getting properly rinsed and soaped up, now. By her. And not by people who will use the Vosji-declared wrong soap.

"Wow you don't look old enough to have a firelizard almost as old as me." Xanthee says with a smile as she stops her stirring and just watches the water spin in the barrel for a moment before speaking up. "You're the weyrlingmaster right?" Xan can read knots. "Did you impress here at Igen?" What a random question, wonder where that comes from? And Xan shows nothing on her face to hint at what might be behind such randomness. As the water in her barrel calms, she reaches in and picks out a garment, inspecting it and then re-dunking before adding some more soap. Taking the paddle back up, she continues with her stirring.

Random questions make for the best conversations, at least according to people Vosji spends a lot of time with, so she doesn't at all seem to mind. She actually puts gloves on before getting deep in there and sloshing her sheets around effectively, using hands instead of a paddle at first, but she casts her voice loud enough to be heard over her own sloshing. "I am," she confirms, "And I didn't. Iskanzivoth is Istan, and he will not have you forget it, because he misses his ocean." There's an affectionate eye roll there, though. "He is, however, happy to be teaching Igen's next generations of fighting forces, as he considers it his due — he had to leave his true home behind to perform a service that only he could do, see. I'm thirty-four," Vosji tacks on, because it seems relevant even if Xanthee didn't exactly ask. "My family tends to run young-looking, which was amusing when my father was Weyrleader … it's more amusing with our current Weyrleader actually being the age people thought he was."

Trying not to look too deflated by that answer, Xanthee just smiles and nods, "Interesting, I've heard Ista is beautiful. I was curious, my mom was a rider, and I'm just trying to find people who knew her. She impressed here at Igen about 8 Turns before the begining of this pass." Her smile kind of waveers as she stares at the water sloshing around in the barrel but she quickly shakes off her silent reverie and again stops with the spinning, "Must be nice to get something like that from your family." she says, trying her hand at a jesting, and winces as she questions whether or not she pulled it off.

"Looking young?" Vosji's giving her the benefit of the doubt on that one, and she laughs. "Sometimes, but it can also be a pain when people assume you're not qualified. I have to admit I'm very glad Iskanzivoth took me away from any chance of ending up a thirteen turn old goldrider." Things that she would never, ever want: 1. being a weyrwoman, 2. sheets that aren't soft enough. "Ista is lovely, but I'm biased. I have friends who have ridden here quite a while, I'm sure you'll find people who knew her if you haven't yet. I'm sorry I couldn't help on that count." Rias has inched down to Vosji's shoulder and offers another curious low-throated noise at Cersei.

Xanthee nods thoughtfully, "Oh, I've met a few over the Turns, just not the right ones apparently." Ohh, first random, now cryptic, Xan is on a roll. She fishes out another garment, gives it a look over and, satisfied, begins the transfer them to the barrel with clean water in just behind her. Once everything is soaking to remove the remnants of the soap, she transfers another load from her bag to the soapy vat. Her hair parts and a small green head peeks out at the older bronze, she gives the barest of cheeps in return.

She's safe, because Vosji is on the low end of nosy. Miel isn't with her, which makes all the difference. Instead, she's just politely curious, that semi-supportive backing attitude that comes off her in work mode. And it isn't as if Vosji often turns off work mode. "It's too bad asking older dragons won't help find her friends — they likely won't recall, if their riders didn't, even if they'd recognize her lifemate's name more likely than not." Slosh slosh slosh. Rias sits up a little taller, stretches his neck. He's nice! He's just curious!

"If only dragons had better memories for sure." Xanthee says as she works up a good pace in her agitating. "Did you say you were a gold candidate?" Xanthee asks, taking the attention off of her as she takes out some delicates from her bag and starts to scrub them by hand in the soapy water of the barrel in front of her. "That seems so strange to me. I've been a candidate twice now, once when there was a gold egg, and we just touched all the eggs each time." she says with a thoughtful smile as Cersei grows bolder and glides down from her humanpet's shoulder to perch delicately on teh rim of the washing barrel.

"I was, but I didn't want to be. I was planning on running away as soon as the gold hatched — don't tell my father," Vosji adds, grin turning mock-conspiratory. "I would never have been on the sands at all were there not a gold egg out there, not back then. But Iskanzivoth knew me right away. He came straight to me, even though I have no memory of if I came into contact with his egg or not." Rias mimicks, hopping to the end of the adjacent barrel, but not intruding on the little green's personal space. He fans his wings out slightly, social gestures. Some strange bronzes are, in fact, just nice guys who don't want anything from the girls. The sheets have been as soaped as they're going to get, and Vosji glances down at them thoughtfully before opting to just keep talking instead. "Introducing everyone to all the eggs is the safer, smarter and faster way to do it; I think hatchings are less stressful for everyone that way."

Xanthee nods a little bit, "Interesting. I wonder if my mom was a gold candidate. She rode brown." She adds almost as an after-thought. "I'm hoping to stand again if asked." no one asked her of course, but she's just being conversational. Moving the last of her soapy garments into the rinsing vat, she wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand. "I'm so glad fall finally showed up, those last few sevendays of summer were the worse." Cersei opens her wings in a mimicking fashion to the social greeting by Rias, as she dips her head at him, crooning a little louder. "That's amazing, she usually won't leave my shoulder as long as there are strange flits around."

"She Impressed before the beginning of the Pass? Then most likely," Vosji confirms, nonchalant. "There were a lot of women Searched so the queen had options, and everyone acted like it was the end of the world or some kind of big deal when they happened to be chosen by another dragon. Never made sense to me," says she who was also a young female Wingsecond before working her way up the ranks thanks to, believe it or not, injury. "But I was young enough and of course opinions weren't being asked. Wish I could just hand you a knot, but I have none on me and my intrepid dragon is presently napping. If you've stood once that's generally good enough for him and me," she adds, so: maybe just hit them up sometime if you wanted to talk your way back onto the Sands, Xanthee. Nobody told her about F'kan. "Rias there is — he likes younger ones, he's big on encouraging them to " At which point Rias croons and takes off into a rafter, barely not smacking Vosji in the face. " fly around and chase him."

Giggling at the suddeness of the bronze's flight, Xanthee gives the little green a poke in the rump, and with a squeak, she takes off for the rafters herself. "I'm ok for right now. I just started seeing someone and work at the Tea Room is good, so I think maybe it better if I don't stand just now." That's sounds a little strange to Xanthee even though the words came out of her mouth. "Wow. Never thought I would say something like that." she mutters to herself as she takes the cleaned clothes out of the water and begins to wring them out.

Vosji, though, looks — impressed, no pun intended. "Knowing your limits and what the right time for something is is important, I'd say, and a sign of maturity that would indicate you would make a competent dragonrider." Which is not something she gives to everyone Searched; many of them wouldn't, and she's definitely graduated a few who she had to work tooth and nail with to get them to go out competent. While weyrling deaths are always hard, Vosji's militaristic view that a young death is better than risking taking down an entire fighting wing is one she has to force herself to maintain in order to not go crazy. "There are always more clutches if you think yourself ready, but knowing when to say no is rather crucial. Surprise Impression not being the best life development possible." Her sheets are impossible to wring out by hand, but there are Convenient Laundry Workers ready to take them from one of the Weyr's upper echelon to wring them through a large device set for the task for her. That she allows. It was just the soap that was the issue.

"Wow, when you put it like that, it actually sounds good." Xanthee says with a little laugh and a shake of her head. As she finishes up the wringing, putting the damp garments back into her bag for easier transportation back to her rooms where she has a drying line hung. When Xanthee gives a sharp whistle to call her back, Cersei glides down and takes up her place again on the dark haired girl's shoulder. "It was nice meeting you ma'am." She says with a little bow of her head, "I better get this stuff on a line. Hope you have a great rest of your day." She says with a nod as she trudges out of the Laundry, her little green calling a farewell to the bronze before they drop out of sight.

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