You enter the steam room.
S'vilen comes in from the lakeshore.
C'daer lounges, eyes closed, on the part of the bench opposite the door. A draped towel provides modesty to his otherwise nude body; the fire is stoked to a comfortable heat and steam billows around the room. Standing by Daer, looking disgruntled, is a weyrling holding a glass of wine and waving a fan to direct the steam down over the bronzerider.
Ilesyn pokes her head in through the doorway, the rest of her body following as she adjusts uncomfortably to the heat, stripping off rather rapidly - and no doubt giving an eyeful to anyone with the misfortune to glance her way. She's got a towel, thankfully, which she wraps about herself as her clothes are set outside, and she seeks a seat upon the bench, to the left of the door. "Oh, is /that/ what weyrlinghood is all about," she smirks, finally taking enough note of her surroundings to catch a glimpse of C'daer through the hovering steam.
S'vilen comes shivering into the steam room after Ilesyn is seated, dripping and wearing only a towel around his hips. With a voilent shudder, he sits right down on the bench to the right of the door and gives C'daer and Ilesyn a jerky little nod each. Then, spying the weyrling upon Ilesyn's comment, he just stares.
The weyrling snorts and continues to fan, and C'daer peels open one eye to peer towards the door. "Afternoon," he says cheerfully towards both healer and Weyrsecond. "Lovely in here, isn't it? If you need anything, just ask Z'lon here. He's got wine and all." As he says that, he reaches up and retrieves his glass.
Ilesyn wears a thoughtful expression, as she regards C'daer, her head shaking several times, though she's apparently more amused than horrified. Pushing thick, lank hair out of her eyes, the heat making it quickly dank, and prone to sticking to her skin, the Mindhealer responds to S'vilen's nod with one of her own, noting generally, "I shall remember that weyrlings are intended for servitude. I could use an assistant from time to time."
"They /aren't/, generally," S'vilen responds to the mindhealer, giving the weyrling a thoughtful look. "C'daer, I meant to ask, is Avila keeping up with her responsibilities? Not too much, er, free time?" he asks, looking somewhat uncomfortable as he turns his attention to the Weyrlingmaster.
"I won a bet," Daer answers gleefully, and the weyrling shifts uncomfortably. "But if you need help, infirmary duty is -always- good for punishment. Let me know." He sips his wine, and blinks over at S'vilen. "Yes. Not that it's a particularly harried time for us. Why do you ask?"
Andariel comes in from the lakeshore.
Ilesyn wears her mock disappointment well, with not even so much as a twitched lip, though such is obviously evident at mention of Avila, her eyes rolling up towards the ceiling with thinly veiled amusement. "I will remember that, Weyrlingmaster," she adds, then remarking, "I don't think it's possible to give Avila enough duties to-- curb the activities she engages in, during her free time."
S'vilen, seated on the bench to the right of the door, with a towel around his hips, grimaces and nods to Ilesyn. "I agree, but I seem to have been delegated the task of ending it, somehow. Thank you, C'daer. I didn't think she was shirking her responsibilities," he says.
C'daer's got a weyrling at his beck and call, standing beside him waving a fan gently. The Weyrlingmaster passes his wineglass back to Z'lon and sits up, adjusting the towel over her hips. Eyebrows lifting, he asks S'vilen, obviously very hopeful, "You mean her gossiping?"
Andariel doesn't so much open the door and enter the steam room; more opens the door, sees there's people there and just stand there for a bit in shock. Though her nose is it's usual red from her permanent winter cold, a thick robe gives her little help in the heat department and eventually forces her inside the hut with a quiet, "Hi." before she sits down, robe still firmly in place, on a free bit of bench.
"Good luck!" is Ilesyn's cheerful response to S'vilen, suggesting by her tone and expression that she finds a positive result in that direction to be unlikely in the extreme. "Oh, hello, Andariel," she greets the Junior Weyrwoman, mostly covered by a voluminous towel for her own self, tucked in place within itself.
S'vilen shivers, turning to see who it is holding the door open and letting the steam out. "Come in," he urges in a murmer, more to himself than the goldrider. Then a nod to C'daer. "Yes, that. Or meddling. I'm not sure precisely which. J'van wasn't in a mood to explain."
Daer seconds Ilesyn's wishes with a heartfelt, "Good luck indeed." Obviously made happier by that piece of information, he leans back against the wall and grins at Andariel. "Hello, Andi."
Andariel smiles slightly nervously, shifting to move a bulge of robe from underneath her and giving a quick wave is given to both Ilesyn and Daer. Even though she came in on the end of a conversation her curiosity gets the better of her situation (barely dressed in front of people) and she eventually asks S'vilen. "Meddling?"
Ilesyn draws her knees up towards her chest, readjusting her towel so that she's still modestly covered. "Avila takes great delight in creating fantasies when she doesn't know all the information," she comments, into the heavy layers of steam, "And sometimes I wonder if she can even remember what is real, and what she has thought up as a possibility. Something I should like to understand better, but I rather imagine any attempts of mine to pry would have rather negative results."
S'vilen nods slightly, then opines, "I think she does. She just gets carried away for a little while. Once she understands the facts, she lets go of her fantasies. I let her give me advice. In return, she doesn't gossip so much trying to fund out the truth about me, and what she does is at least usually accurate."
C'daer questions Siv thoughtfully, "And that worrks? It might even be worth a try sometime. I mean, she practices on the weyrlings often enough, and none of them have gotten horribly scarred from her advice yet." Z'lon rolls his eyes and passes his weyrlingmaster the wineglass again.
Andariel is a little confused, one of the joys of having walked in on something already happeneing. "So Avila's been creating fantasies about J'van? I didn't realise she used real people in those romance scrolls she writes." She blinks for a moment, "Or have I gotten this completely wrong?"
"An interesting technique," muses Ilesyn, her eyes closed against the warmth of the air around her. "I hadn't thought of using that to combat her incessant gossip, and romantic notions - though I dooubt anything could curb those, truly." Andariel's summary draws a half shake of her head, "Avila's convinced that the reason Jalis and Eliwys were fighting was because Jalis was pregnant to J'van. The rumour was going everywhere."
S'vilen starts to nod to C'daer, but Ilesyn's explanation brings his head around quickly. "Oh, shells. That would explain a lot. Then again, any number of other things could, too." What those might be, he doesn't elaborate on, taking J'van's demand for a cessation of gossip to heart.
Daer perks up. "Is -that- it," he muses, and then his brows crinkle downward. "Wait, wait - the flight wasn't that long ago. How would she know she's pregnant already?" He sips wine, and repeats, "Anyone who wants wine, Z'lon has it."
Andariels mouth falls open in a large O. "Oh, thaaaat." She nods, brushing a slightly damp stray strand of hair from her face. "I'd heard something similar but the other way round, Eli was the one pregnant and Jalis had decided she wanted J'van for herself and was upset cause that'd ruin things. I doubt it's true though, just rumours." Relaxing, she draws her feet up beside her on the bench. "And they'd've said something, surely, if one of them was, maybe not named names, but they'd've said something. I think."
Ilesyn's eyebrows raise, a querying glance made to S'vilen, though she does not verbally request elaboration; she seems disinclined to press, though her expression is interested. "She came up with that one before my very eyes," she proclaims, darkly. "That's just it, C'daer. It isn't true." Her attention turns to Andariel. "Now /that/ I hadn't heard. I just know that Fort's Weyrwoman, and Monaco's Acting Weyrwoman fought, and that J'van was somehow involved."
S'vilen provides additional information, "And Leyrith was in a bad mood." Then, to C'daer, "It's been long enough for her to have reason to believe. It only take a month for that. Just three to be sure. But there's no reason to think she is. She and Eliwys have fought a number of times before, and J'van has sometimes been involved. Neither of them has been pregnant before."
S'vilen adds quickly, "I mean, when they were fighting. Jalis has three children."
"Isn't Leyrith always in a bad mood?" C'daer shrugs, and stretches, and lies back down, wiggling his feet around. "Hoo, this steam room is the best. I wonder, if Avila got herself weyrmated, she'd have something else to worry about rather than gossip." This is musing, thoughtful.
"They were talking about it in the living caverns this morning." Andariel supplies for Ilesyn. "That stablehand with the long scraggly hair. Car-something-or-other and one of the drudges. The redhead one with the big nose. It's amazing how little things get all blow out of proportion, it's probably all over something small and insignifi..." she doesn't quite get to finish her statement as C'daers comment makes her laugh. "She certainly wouldn't need all those romance scrolls then, thats for certain."
"She's always on about I'hlani, even if they aren't weyrmated-- and I swear that doesn't help it a bit, even if she swears it's love. No, not love; she calls it something else because she says he doesn't like the love word," retorts Ilesyn, shaking her head. "I think she's incurable, and that, coming from me, is certainly something." Her head is nodded, slowly, as she hears Andariel. "Mm. All very interesting. Poor J'van. It's a lesson to us all, never to fall in love. The love sick fill half my schedule, I swear."
S'vilen shakes his head slightly at C'daer. "That was according to Perymith, who she seems to like. If he says she's in a bad mood, then she's in an unusually bad mood, because otherwise, he fills my ears with how wonderful she is. And then generally tells me I have to help him name his rocks," he concludes, the last sentence in an undertone. He doesn't make a remark about Avila weyrmating, just shakes his head again.
Daer peers at Ilesyn and asks, out of the blue, "Why is it that you're a healer? What's your motivation?" Then, asiding to S'vilen, "She must like Perymith, for him to always catch her. Think you'll end up a Monacan here shortly?" He retrieves and drains his winegless, passes it back to Z'lon, and gestures, "Off with you. Practice your wing exercises."
Ilesyn, just in the process of opening her mouth - no doubt to add something else to the conversation - stops short to peer at C'daer. "That's a very random question. Shouldn't I ask you the same thing - why are you Weyrlingmaster? What's your motivation. I'm a healer because it fascinates me, and I would not want to do a job that I didn't like.
Andariel chuckles slightly. "I've been lucky enough not to fall into that trap, although no doubt sooner or later I'll end up on your couch Ilesyn."
Ilesyn, just in the process of opening her mouth - no doubt to add something else to the conversation - stops short to peer at C'daer. "That's a very random question. Shouldn't I ask you the same thing - why are you Weyrlingmaster? What's your motivation. I'm a healer because it fascinates me, and I would not want to do a job that I didn't like." A nod, a very firm one, conclues this statement, though she notes, "Oh, Andi, I'm saving a spot for you-- just come by when you're ready to face it."
S'vilen goes silent at C'daer's question to him. A moment later, he looks towards Ilesyn as if quite interested in her response to the one aimed at her, and then back to C'daer, all without a word.
"Fascinates you. Mmmmm," C'daer answers, absentlyx scratching an itch on his stomach. "I was just talking to someone else about it the other day. Me? Uh. Well, I like it. I derive personal satisfaction from seeing raw, squabbly weyrlings come out the other end trim, tanned, respectful, and competent."
Andariel smiles, nodding at C'daers answer. "And he's almost as tenatious at is as your are, though you'll need to hold that place for me for a while yet."
"Who?" Ilesyn's rather too quick with this question, gaze sharp at C'daer. "But there you go. Job satisfaction. You like to see that you've made a difference - so do I."
Sanriel comes in from the lakeshore.
S'vilen rises from his seat to the right of the door, tucking his towel firmly around his hips. "I'll leave you all to the discussion," he says with a wave. "Good luck."
C'daer furrows his forehead. "Aly-something, a senior apprentice. Do you know anything about hair dye, either of you?" he asks the two seated women, lifting his hand to absently wave to S'vilen and then readjust the towel over his hips.
Sanrielpeeks her head into the room, nearly bumping into S'vilen. Jerking back, she stands up straight. "Ooh, sorry, Siv. Didn't mean to inter..." And then the rest of the occupants are noticed. "...rupt."
Andariel shifts a little on the bench, pulling her robe up a little and daring to reveal her feet at last and even they, like the rest of her, look a little overheated. "Hair-dye?" she repeats the question absently, raising a hand in greeting to Sanriel before continuing. "Why do you want to dye your hair?"
Ilesyn lifts her left hand in a lazy gesture after S'vilen, though her attention is readily returned to C'daer, an eyebrow raised consideration given to both his response and his question. "Not a thing," she swears, "Awful stuff. Such a waste of time." Sanriel, too, is given something of a wave, her hand still raised.
S'vilen steps back, shivering as soon as the cold air hits him. Ducking past Sanriel, he says, "You're not interrupting. They're... discussing hair dye." That said, he's out in the snow to pull on his clothes.
S'vilen comes out of the steam room.
C'daer pats his hair protectively. "I certainly don't want to dye mine, no. Hello, Sanri - no, see, this girl, she wants to dye her hair gray so she looks older. She says she doesn't get enough respect. I wanted to ask Mia, since she does a lock of hers green, but I forgot."
"Hair dye?" Sanriel repeats, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. "Trust me... She does /not/ want to dye her hair gray."
Andariel blinks. "Dye her hair grey to look older. Would that work? Really I mean. One of the cooks at the Hold had white hair, but she still looked young, because she was. was young I mean." she pauses a second and chuckles. "I think the heat's getting to me, that made no sense even to me." And finally the robe comes off to reveal a large thick towel underneath covering Andi from chest to knee, and hiding something that looks suspiciously like a bathing costume.
"Seems to me a girl that silly doesn't deserve respect," snorts Ilesyn through the steam, blowing it away from her face with the vehemence of her words. She tilts her head to the side, attention distracted by Andariel-- she's perceptive enough to catch a glimpse of the bathing costume. "Oh, come on, Andi. A robe, a towel, and something else as well? You need to become more comfortable with your body."
C'daer answers, "Well, it was because I told her about yours, Sanri. She thinks she looks too young to command respect from her patients - honestly, she looks about fourteen." Daer's eyes stay firmly averted from any of the women in the room, save one quick appreciative glance at Andariel.
Sanriel, fully clothed, fans herself. "Shards, it's hot in here. No wonder you're all naked. Who is this girl? A Healer, I assume..." Giving up on the ineffective fanning, Sanriel pulls off her tunic and drops it on the bench. She is wearing a light cotton blouse beneath.
"Oh, I'm fine with my body, had it for years you know." Andariel makes a feeble attempt at humour to cover up for her embarrassment. "But... it's cold out there you know."
Ilesyn hesitates. "Patients," she murmurs, her eyebrows lifting-- not curiously, as such; instead, somewhat resigned. "But it's certainly not cold in /here/," retorts the Healer, dressed only in her towel.
"Right. Healer," Daer confirms, and taps his fingers impatiently on the bench. "I can -feel- her name, it's on the tip of my tongue. Aly, Alis, Al.. hrm. Say, where's Cedriel?"
"You have him." Sanriel says pointedly, giving C'daer a /very/ irritated look. "Did you leave him with the nannies and forget?"
Andariel winces a little as the parents in the room gear up for what looks to be a fight, edging surreptitiously round towards Ileysn. "I wasn't sure how hot it'd be, or how crowded you see. I might have had to leave again."
Ilesyn's gaze flicks towards Sanriel and C'daer, and she slides slightly towards Andariel, leaning over to make a quiet comment. She mutters to Andariel, "... are not a good... least.... them... domestic." She nods her head, shortly, adding more loudly, "A robe and a towel is all that is needed, really, Andariel. And just a towel is needed now-- if that, though I suppose it might be offensive to some." Ilesyn picks at the edge of her towel, as if wishing it gone entirely.
Andariel senses "Ilesyn's gaze flicks towards Sanriel and C'daer, and she slides slightly towards Andariel, leaning over to make a quiet comment. "Just reinforces my firmly held idea that children are not a good thing in the least. Trust them to go all domestic." She nods her head, shortly, adding more loudly, "A robe and a towel is all that is needed, really, Andariel. And just a towel is needed now-- if that, though I suppose it might be offensive to some." Ilesyn picks at the edge of her towel, as if wishing it gone entirely."
C'daer pauses, bites his lip, and then shakes his head. "No, you have him, I was going to come and get him -after- my bath and," he waves his hand loosely at the room, "my steaming. Did -you- leave him with the nannies and forget?" He asks this in a very pleasant voice.
If looks could kill, C'daer would be dead. Twice. Sanriel, however, is very much alive as she jumps up straight and rushes out the door, tunic and conversation utterly abandoned.
"You wouldn't dare surely." Andariel is focussed on Ilesyn's words and towl fidgeting more than anything, till the banging of the door closing causes her to look round and spot that theres no Sanriel. CLosing her eyes for a second she finally asks. "Daaaaer. What did you say?"
"Why not?" retorts Ilesyn, stretching out her limbs languidly. "It isn't as though there's anyone here that hasn't seen every part of the female body." She glances after Sanriel, adding, with a roll of her eyes, "/Parents/. So concerned for the brats."
Rolling his eyes, Daer mutters, "Women," and gets up, taking a moment to tuck his towel firmly around himself as he answers. "I just told her -I- wasn't supposed to have him." He stoops to pick up a few logs and stoke the fire. "It's not like he's lost in the desert or anything."
Andariel nods slowly, reacting to Daer for the moment, not daring to answer Ilesyn with anything other than a blush. "Are you really not supposed to have him though, or are you just being... awkward." She pauses then launches in headlong. "Really Daer it can't be good for the little one for you two to be constantly at each others throats. You need to talk more and argue less, it'd help everyone in the long run if you at least acted like you cared even slightly."
Ilesyn smirks rather soundly at that blush, teasing the goldrider with a tug at the towel, a readjustment that almost allows a glimpse of chest, and a shift in movement that has her legs briefly nearly entirely bare. "Oh, don't worry, Andi. The poor brat is going to be grow up painfully maladjusted no matter what they do." She glances at the bronzerider, adding, "Faranth knows what you'll do with a second baby to be responsible for."
C'daer straightens up indignantly, turning to say to Andariel, "We talk plenty. We're good friends. You ought to know better than to listen to Avila's gossip about us!" As he gestures angrily, his towel slips loose and falls to the floor; he continues complaining as he bends to pick it up, too annoyed to be embarrassed. "Ilesan, you know nothing at all about my arrangements with Sanri, Cedri, and Mia, so don't go assuming things!"
"I haven't been listening to Anyone C'daer. It's pretty obvious just from how you've been in here and from what I've seen in the past that you two constantly argue." Andariel's voice stutters slightly as the towel slips, but she remains as calm as possible, trying to talk rationally, eye fixed on the boiler. "Myabe you are good friends, but if you didn't do your arguing in pubic then people wouldn't get the wrong impression then would they. Don't go blaming other people for how you make yourselves look."
"Defensive some?" asks Ilesyn, sweetly. "Andi's absolutely right. Your son is going to grow up believing that you hate each other, and he's therefore going to feel guilty about even having been born. Unless you can learn to support each other, rather than yelling, and being defensive, he really will become that cook - just to get away from you, and try and relieve himself of the guilt he feels." Ilesyn, being Ilesyn, does not look away as C'daer's towel slips; instead, she takes a peek, not even bothering to try and hide it.
C'daer rolls his eyes and turns his back on them both, picking up the water pail and tossing a scoop on. Above the furious hissing of steam being created, he says, "It takes more than two fights to make two people enemies. Ilesyn of all people should know -that-. You two can just keep your noses out of things that don't concern you and don't go making assumptions all over the place."
Andariel shakes her head. "Fine, fair enough. But you really need to /think/ C'daer, because it's not just us that've made assumptions, it's pretty much the entire weyr and no matter how many of them you tell to keep their noses out, they've formed impressions of you and that's going to be hard to break."
After having taken her sweet time in returning, Sanriel's shadow darkens the doorway. Surreptitious as possible (in such small environs) she steps inside, closing the door behind her softly and hoping to catch a bit of whatever has gone on in her absence.
Ilesyn positively beams. "Andariel! That's /exactly/ what I was telling Sanriel, in regards to the whole Jalis-J'van-Eliwys debacle. Once someone has gotten an idea into their mind, they're not likely to lose it-- so you'll just have to double your efforst to prove us wrong, C'daer, because I sure as anything see no proof that you're really friends. Besides which," she adds, wiggling into a more comfortable spot, "I never said that two fights was all it took. But everyone knows you've been fighting forever." If she notes Sanriel's return - and she might well of - it makes little difference.
Hitching his towel firmly around his waist again, Daer glares at both 'meddly females' and stalks over to stretch out in the steam again. He mutters a rude word and says defensively, "I don't have to prove anything to either of you."
Andariel lets out a slight snort of a chuckle and shakes her head, simply stating. "Men." and rolling her eyes. She does notice Sanriel return and offers her a small smile and a quiet. "You ok San?"
"No," agrees Ilesyn, glancing back at C'daer, "But we'll judge you nonetheless." She rises from her seat, holding tight to her towel - though with a cheeky grin in the motion, swaggering towards the exit. "Good day!" And then, she's gone, laughing as she goes. "Men, indeed! A waste of time and effort, but not bad for a poke."
You go out to the cooler lakeshore.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:33 PM