Fort Weyr

Fort Weyr - Bathing Cavern
A high, domed ceiling stretches far overhead, voices echoing in the distance. Warm, moist air fills the room, coming from the variety of pools scattered about. Vines have been planted in baskets and grow up the walls, thriving in the soft artificial light provided by glows placed at random intervals about the room.

Despite having lived at Fort for just a little over a turn, Hana's still not wholly comfortable with communal bathing. It's easier now, but she still prefers to find hours in which most people are engaged in any number of other pursuits to squeeze in a quick scrub-down as modestly as one can manage under the circumstances. In this way, the constant up-and-down of newborn dragons over the past few sevens has provided the surprising advantage of being able to run for a quick bath at times when most people probably aren't awake - even if the pursuit of one is out of pure necessity rather than a pleasurable soak. It's just as well that the bathing cavern is all but deserted a couple of hours past midnight; with Fjainoith resettled after an attempt to hurry outdoors in a timely fashion (they only just made it past the doorway to the middens), the harper is able to peel out of muck-stained clothing some time after in a quick one-two and gratefully sink into one of the pools off to the side, eyes fluttering briefly shut with a tired sigh once she's chest-deep in the warm, steadily replenishing water. To all appearances, she may as well be heading back to sleep right there.

There are odder hours that Emi has snuck in bathing than this, though his usual favorite lately has been trying to cram both that and lunch into the same brief period of time. That is enough to deal with a bit of the grime, but oh, to be cursed with both a desire to avoid human contact and a desire for better personal grooming than this? So: Emi is up in the middle of the night, and the facial expression makes dismay plain on finding the place not deserted, but hopefully Hana won't see that. Emi can give her a wide berth, anyway, finding a different pool, settling in with a small basket full of toiletries and a Mission and he could be invisible except for the occasional sounds of someone moving in the water over there. Just get in, get out, and… and notably, do not drop an open bottle of liquid shampoo into the bath because your hands are slippery. "Shit," is not the most auspicious first thing to have said out loud, especially not with that kind of alarm.

Fortunately for Emi, Hana sees nothing but the backs of her eyelids while he's settling into his own pool, although she must be at least peripherally aware of the sounds of his movements - which could lull one back to a half-asleep state save for that sudden vocalization. Blue eyes flying open, she's turning a little to find its source, arms poised to hoist herself out of the water just in case. "All right?" Hopefully, her gaze first lands on the back of Emi's head or something equally innocuous in her attempt to determine if he's uninjured over there; either way, once that's established, she averts it quickly in favor of upending her own soap and shampoo to generate some suds in her bath, hunkering back down once there's enough to restore some comfort.

"Fine! I'm fine!" Quick, before it can draw too much attention; attention is the last thing Emi wanted, right? He manages to retrieve the bottle, but the scramble to do so has not been kind to its contents, which he attempts to pour out into his hand, but… no, it's pretty much all water. "Shit," again, but softer this time. "Do you, uh, have enough shampoo left to share? I don't think I can make it 'til morning still feeling this gross." A beat, a moment for the lightbulb to go on. "Not some kind of a ploy. I don't… look at women like that. I have soap soap. I just don't want to ruin my hair."

To share? A calculating glance drifts from her bathing supplies back to Emi's pool as if she's debating how far one could conceivably toss them without getting out of the water - but then. "Oh, " says Hana slowly, releasing her breath with a look of relief. "Well. Of course. No, you shouldn't use soap, " unless, you know, one absolutely must. She'll even make her way to the side of her pool that's closest to his with the bottle in hand so it isn't quite so far away, nudging it in his direction with an outstretched arm until it's just past the reach of her fingertips. "It's mostly scented with a sweet oil, " she adds after a moment. "I'm not very into the citrus or super perfumed ones." Although carefully keeping her focus somewhere on what she can see of the wall past Emi's bath, she nonetheless tips a quick, thoughtful glance to his face. Awkwardly, "And here I've been assuming that everyone we room with does, " which is probably one reason why she and Fjainoith chose a couch on the other side of the barracks. "I have a matching conditioner, if you want to try it. It might work nicely with your hair texture, too."

Maybe she's a bit more comfortable now, but Emi, Emi is still waiting for her to look away before pushing out of the water enough to get the shampoo bottle, and then quickly retreating again. "I like it if they smell nice, but I'm… not that picky how. I think my conditioner will be fine. It's… the one my sister used," past tense, "and it always seemed to work great for her. I think any flaw in how my hair looks lately is my own fault." A moment while the shampoo gets applied, and rinsed out, and the conditioner follows before Emi engages in the same process to return the shampoo bottle. "Don't think I've really got much in common with the rest of them," a little rueful.

"We're pretty subject to circumstances outside of our control right now, " the harper points out matter-of-factly while sinking a little farther down into the suds; old habits die hard, even if it's clearly more evident to her by now that Emi's surely no threat to her comfort or holdbred modesty. Arms are harmless enough to scrub above water, which she sets to doing unhurriedly. There's a little furrow in her brow which may or not be visible while she keeps her attention on getting clean, another small look over in his direction (probably at his feet this time) when the bottle is returned. "No, " agrees Hana for his last thoughtfully, "perhaps not." Does she smile a little? Something that sounds like one slips in at the end there, anyway; on its heels, the offer of an honest thought: "I think it might have been even stranger of an experience for me to get used to, " than it already is, this forever-bond, "had Fjainoith been shelled brown or blue - not that I can picture her being anyone but who she is."

"I don't know. She seems perfectly normal." Normal may be putting it a bit strongly. Elynath struggles with sleeping predictable hours still, and has the attention span of a gerbil, and is in general already not a paragon of good life choices even by baby dragon standards, but never mind that part. Emi returns to where he was and gets back in the water to start some aggressive cleaning of his nails. "It's really hard to imagine anything else," the absent agreement while he gets to inspecting them after a good scrubbing. "I don't know that I would have thought of wanting a girl in my head, but I wouldn't have wanted a man, either. It's not that, though. Or not just that. The rest of them are all more… accustomed to getting their hands dirty. Rough work."

Normal. "From a practical standpoint, they all seem normal enough for being so young, " reasons Hana while lathering some of the shampoo for her own hair. "They eat, they sleep, they wake us up in the middle of the night — but it's frankly still incredible to be able to know exactly what she needs, when she needs it, " never mind that Fjainoith is never exactly subtle between them about her wants and immediate needs — and is almost always quick to full alertness after awakening. But the blonde holds whatever other thoughts she may have wanted to air in favor of listening attentively while she scrubs carefully at her scalp. There's a little sound of agreement for his assessment of their fellow weyrlings, then a not-quite-rueful, "I've had more paper-cuts than calluses, myself. But we all have different strengths, don't we?"

"I'm glad they can actually talk, because a baby is hard enough without claws and teeth. Used to be able to let Aami just nap on my chest. Ely's snagged more than just my shirt trying to be affectionate." Love hurts, sometimes; at least plainly it's never been enough to require serious medical intervention, and it would probably have happened less if Emi didn't so often indulge his dragon's attempts to drape herself all over him when relaxing. Emi hoists himself out of the pool, now, this time doing a quick toweling-off before wrapping the towel about his waist. Not departing, though, just sitting down at the edge to attend to scrubbing feet, first. "Wish training was more flexible, but I guess I don't know how that'd work. I'll do twice the oiling and someone else will clean up after her…" A wistful sigh as his toes slip back into the water.

Lhiannon makes a little noise of agreement for the challenges of childcare, never mind that she, herself, has not yet experienced the joys of rearing a human baby. "Children can be difficult to work with, " says the harper who makes a point of avoiding interactions more in-depth with them beyond 'would you like a cookie?' From her end, there are only the sounds of movements in the water for a few moments while she rinses her hair around the same time that he's transitioning to feet-scrubbing. At length, "Still, it must be - comforting, to get to have her so close while we can, " before they shoot up to the size of large vehicles adolescent dragons. "Whom would you have clean up after her?" she wonders; it's probably meant to be a rhetorical question. At least that part of their care won't last forever, however long the months ahead may feel at this juncture.

To be fair, Elynath is a bitsy thing, so maybe she'll be more of a moderately-sized vehicle? Probably still not easily cuddleable. "Most of them could probably handle it without breaking a sweat," regrettably. Though, perhaps a little less mournful: "M'zal, doing a little extra manual labor, maybe without a shirt on? Maybe D'ax?" Rhetorical? Emi sounds distracted and daydreamy for a moment. Or — just dreamy, at this hour, possibly verging on dozy, though still sitting there at the edge of the pool. "They wouldn't, but that doesn't mean I'd say no."

Hana can't help it; it's late, she's sleepy and that permits a little snort to escape for Emi's rhetorical suggestions while she wades to the edge of her own pool to more easily start to towel her hair dry. "I rather suspect, " she says wryly with no little amusement, "that a fair number of people would gladly watch shirtless D'ax perform some manual labor." Yet, she doesn't exactly sound like one of them, herself (certainly there's no dreamy noises of agreement to accompany her hypothesis), gaze slanting a brief, sideways look toward the other weyrling over her shoulder after some moments. Perhaps it's just as well that the younglings in question are asleep, for now. "They wouldn't ," she agrees, masking a little smile in the far more distracting slosh-sounds as she climbs out of her bath to swiftly robe herself in a larger towel. "Or at least, " she appends as if tacked on in afterthought followed by a shrug, "they don't strike me as the sorts who would willingly do - favors."

"He's a popular guy." It's thoughtful, but not exactly a lament. "At least for looking at." M'zal isn't, but Emi isn't going to elaborate on his inclusion in the list at the moment, exactly. "But not what I'd call…" A slight pause. "Magnanimous?" Ten-dollar — ten-mark? — word there, and Emi has to make his way over it with a little care. "I'll just have to manage. Are you headed back?" Because apparently the other weyrling isn't in such a hurry to vacate, but he does crane his neck slightly to check just enough to keep track of where she is.

Magnanimous, indeed. Lhiannon hides another little smile behind the movements of gathering her belongings, of rubbing bath-wrinkled feet into the smaller towel left unfolded at the edge of the water. "That much self-assurance, " inflected in such a way to imply that she probably intends it to mean arrogance, "and genuine generosity rarely seem to go hand-in-hand, I think." But rare doesn't mean impossible; she'll leave Emi to his dreamy musing while she quickly, carefully dresses fully turned away. "I probably should. I've been here longer than you. If I time it just right, I can make it back hopefully before she wakes up for her middle-of-the-night feeding." Dry and weary though her delivery may be, she doesn't sound nearly as put-upon as the words could hint at face-value. "See you in a little bit, " she supposes, adding after a moment with a little yawn, "and try not to doze off before then, " may be as much for him as for her when it comes to being terribly sleepy in potentially less-safe places. The struggle is real.

"Sleep well," is Emi's last offering, cheerful enough, but he does seem to be looking after her as she makes her exit just well enough to determine when she's properly gone and that nobody else is arriving. Then, in that couple minutes of blissful alone time, he gets to fumbling a razor out of his bathing supplies.