Want To Make A Bet?

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Hot Springs
Created by the fires of the volcano a pocket of ancient air has created this huge open cavern in the black stone. Most of the floor is covered by bubbling mineral water that gleams azure in the dim light of glows. Swirls of green, blue, red, yellow, black and white are awash on the walls and floor, earmarks of earlier times when the hot water boiled out of its bed and rose to fill the dark cavern.
A few signs of humanity can be found. A trunk with soft fluffy towels, soap and a boardwalk erected through the middle of the four pools so that people can find their way to the hot water without burning their feet along the way. It is rumored that an hour in the hot water can melt away even the worse of troubles, leaving a person relaxed and ready to face a new day with vigor.

It's late. Like, really late. Not quite the twilight hour, but the littles are definitely in bed, and others probably have been for an hour or two as well. Yet here is Emiallis in the hot springs. She has her suit on, just settling into one of the pools with a long sigh. Her ginger hair is piled ontop of her head and loosely clipped there. It seems someone might have had a tiring day.

D'nyl was really expecting the pools to be empty at this hour. He's sheened with sweat and dirt and there are a few twigs stuck in his chin-length hair. He's not really paying attention to his surroundings, just stripping off his clothes and muttering to himself about weyrlings and tents. Clothes get tossed into a bin designated for clothes to be washed and slides into a pool. Hot water will help ease the stiffness and bruises, and he seems to have a few of various age and a myriad of scars that are older. Then he looks up, sees Emiallis, and nearly jumps out of his skin, "Faranth's Egghole! I didn't even see you there!"

Emiallis was just starting to relax when D'nyl makes his way in and just start shedding clothes. There's a look up as the shedding starts and then her eyes quickly avert away. And as he settles in and then notices her, she lets out a short laugh. "Should be more observant. I've been here all along." She resettles on the bench, mostdefinitely keeping her eyes upwards above the water. Even then she can see his disarray. "What happened to you?"

D'nyl shrugs, he observation rolling off him like water, "Probably." He tilts his head, using both hands to work his hair out of its knots and get the sticks out, "Nothing more than usual. One of my students placed too much strain on one of his tentpoles and it popped loose. Better I get banged up than the kids." At least he's nice enough to toss the twigs out of the pool instead of in like some would.

Emiallis can't exactly look at the man's knot, because well. It's probably in that bin with the rest of his clothes. "Students?" Hey, she's only been here a month or two, and like she's ever made an attempt to know people around the Weyr. "What sort of teacher are you that you're taking them camping?" This is probably the most talkative she's been outside of that barbeque. And she's still trying to do the computation for how D'nyl got banged up instead of the student, which may or may nor be apparent by a furrowed brow. She's just generally confused.

"Survival and defense training with the 'lings. This lot has been less-than-receptive." D'nyl snags the soapsand and starts lathering his hair liberally. "Faranth help me when we get to hunting and processing. You'd think they think riders live in ivory towers, never getting hurt or lost or stranded." This is clearly a very practical man, which might explain some of the older injuries, but certainly doesn't help when he's trying to teach those who never expect to have to survive on their own how to do just that.

Now Emiallis' eyebrows just move upwards, in disbelief. "Survival and defense? Whatever for?" His next comment gets a small flush of the cheeks from her, though that's hidden by the heat. "I have no intention of being caught anywhere outside of civilization." She sounds so awfully sure of that as she sinks into the water further, submerging her shoulders as well. "That's just barbaric."

D'nyl arches a brow at her, "Not so easy for a rider to say that. If someone's missing or people need help, we can end up in a variety of unusual places. I've had a few times I've gotten torn up somewhere Czaiath couldn't get to me." He lets the suds settle into his scuffed hair, scratching absently at his chest, which may draw her attention to the faded scar there that says 'Traitor' in rough letters. "More people live beyond your civilization than you might think."

Emiallis just snorts in repsonse. "Well that's why I'm never going to go there." As if it's that simple. "Why I'd never join a search and rescue wing, either." Indeed his scratching does lead her eyes to the scarred words on his chest. Her eyes narrow and her lips tighten and press together. "Like I said before, such conditions are barbaric. The people can't be any better."

"What, you think the Weyrwoman has never been endangered in the line of duty?" D'nyl certainly knows that every one of the golds at Half moon has been in such a situation. Her judgment makes him furrow his brows, his jaw setting into a stubborn line, "Do tell?"

"Well of course not." Emiallis responds fairly quickly, stretching her legs out in the hot water, and leaning back. "Why would a Weyrwoman go risk her and her gold's life?" Right. Have we mentioned yet that Emi is spoiled? It might be showing. "And how can a person be civilized if they don't have the benefits of actual civilation? A person is only as good as their surroundings." Oh someone please help her.

"MmmmHmm." D'nyl sounds the exact opposite of convinced by her beliefs. He ducks his head under the water, using his hands to shake the suds loose before surfacing again, "Do tell me what you think riders do? Since you know about S&R, what do you think non-S&R riders do?""

Emiallis doesn't notice such things as varying opinions or really much of anything. She wait until he surfaces again, and because she so knowledgeable about such things, she just blunders on, like she does. "Depends on which wing you're in right? There's like… an administrative one where you help run the Weyr. Then there's deliveries. Traveling to other Weyrs and trading, right?" She pauses for a moment, stretching out leisurely. "Then there's the crafter's wing where they just keep doing what they were doing." Well. She might not be totally ignorant.

"MmHmm." Again with the skeptical acknowledgment, this time followed up by a soft snort. "Do tell me, what do you think you would do as a rider, hm?" He's challenging her now, daring her to have an answer.

Emiallis at least pauses to think about that one. For five seconds. "Well, I'd impress to a gold of course, so we'd be staying around the Weyr." And doing what? Well. That portion she doesn't go into. Apparently goldriders get to be freeloaders? She looks comfortable with her answer, quirking an eyebrow at the older man. Snotty brat.

"Uh…huh. So you'd just sit back and enjoy your comfy weyr and your life of leisure, like all weyrwomen do?" D'nyl is dripping with skepticism, which she may or may not notice.

Not notice. Emiallis can be a bit dense. "Of course! We'd help every now and then with duties like planning gathers, and maybe things like that barbeque." She leans back, resting her head on the ledge behind. "We might even help out with keeping the records or storerooms." Oo. That's so generous of her highness.

D'nyl snorts softly, "Uh huh… and I suppose you'd do these few meager things out of hte goodness of your gold-plated heart?" D'nyl dunks again, rinsing the last of the suds from his hair, then surfaces with a smirk, "Care to put your marks on the line?"

Emiallis just gives D'nyl a look. "Sure. We'll put marks on it." There's a moment as she thinks about how many she actually has. "A full mark?" Yeah, that's gonna be most of her spending money. Poor kid. She gives a small sniff. "And then when those eggs hatch, you'll see!" And this is exactly why she was sent away from home.

"That's fair." D'nyl flashes her a quick thumbs up, "I'll give you a white knot and if you impress a queen, I owe you a Mark, otherwise you owe me a Mark and an apology. Sound fair to you?"

"You'll know when the time comes." D'nyl hoists himself up out of the pool and reaches for a towel, "How, of course, all candidates have the same expectations on them, even those surely destined to ride gold, so that means chores and calisthenics and lessons. It means keeping your part of the barracks clean and participating in group activities. It means no special times with whoever floats your boat, no fighting, and only one cup of alcohol a day. Can you handle that?"

He hoists himself up, and Emiallis hoists her eyes away until he can get hold of a towel. His list of restrictions gets a glare and a dismissive snort. "It's like my current list of responsibilities plus calisthenics. I'll live until I impress." Not if. Until. Dang this girl is full of herself. After he gets himself situated she lifts herself out of the bath and takes her time getting to a towel. She's in a suit after all. "Does that whole barracks thing start tonight or tomorrow?"

D'nyl is clearly not the kind of man who worries too much about his nakedness, but he does cover up for going about. He's not a creeper. He pulls a loose pair of shorts off a shelf and puts them on, "Tonight. And there will be inspections from time to time. But your first day will be without chores so you can get moved in and settled. After that, you'll have a chore section each day. It will be posted in the barracks every day." He smiles grimly ather, "My bag is by the door, if you're ready for your quick tour."

Emiallis slips her feet into her flip-flops, and grabs a towel, only to dab off the excess water. "And here I was hoping I could go to bed after soaking." With a resigned sigh she grabs his bag, not making any promises that one side of his bag won't be wet. "Lead on."

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