Sass With A Mud Bath

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Laundry Room
The laundry rooms has for a long time been the primary source of weyr gossip and stories. Many aunties hustle and bustle about the place, taking care of the weyr's steady supply of laundry. The room itself is large and has been divided into two halves. The main half is for actual washing and drying of clothes. The other half is for mending, sewing, sorting and folding.

Morning! It's a pretty sweet morning, actually. The weather's warming up a little outside, though the laundry room probably isn't affected overly much by it. Yet. Come summer, it'll be a different story but, right now? Things are pretty much the same ol', same ol'. And then it's suddenly not, because Rezia's headed in with a sour pout on her face and an armload of what might be clothes under a coating of mud. Hopefully it's mud. It smells like mud. She looks like she's recently washed up, her hair still wet and sticking to her cheeks and neck. Her clothes are clinging, too, as if she seriously didn't take the time to dry off before throwing on some dress or another. She marches into the laundry room with that terrible, terrible load of 'laundry' (allegedly) and blows out a breath, while she searches for someone to help her.

It's morning! The sun is shining! His pile of designated laundry is almost clean and— "Oh, for the love of little wherries," Heryn breathes as Rezia walks in, the bartender leaning back on low stool to simply… eye that armload of what he hopes is mud-colored clothing. It doesn't look much like clothing, but he can't seem to think of any other reason a relatively clean rider would be carrying around an armful of plastered dirt, and so he clears his throat with a little, "You uh… you got a little spot of something… right there." And if that doesn't paint a big old 'this guy can help you!' sign over Heryn's head, maybe his nearly-empty wash basin will.

It's morning indeed, and Emiallis has been up far too long for her liking. Her hair is french braided to keep it out of her face, though that is starting to fray, along with her temper. "I swear." She grips, raising her voice so Heryn can hear without her ever looking up from her scrubbing. "They find the most inane, disgusting, and demeaning chores and have candidates do them." There's a huff and Heryn is muttering about something, but Emi is (as always) self absorbed but (for once) concentrating on what she's doing. Scrubbing at a stubborn stain. "Little better than drudges, and for what? Wouldn't the dragon find us anyways if they wanted us?" Gripe, gripe. Whine, whine.

It's like a switch is flipped, honestly. Rezia's sourpuss expression immediately switches to wide-eyed and hopeful - and, almost as quickly, to cross-eyed as she tries to sort out just where that spot might be. "Wait? Where? Where is it? Oh, I thought I got all of the spots," she protests, her not-quite-Igenite-accented voice gone breathless. Of course, that means she has to move closer to Heryn, the basket full of (again, allegedly) laundry being held out to him. Is that a coquettish tilt of her head? Really. "Would you mind? I mean, normally, I'd do all this, but- oooh, those firelizards. I swear." Fortunately, she's not as deaf as she is daft and her attention cuts to Emiallis. She can catch juuust enough to blink a bit, and then she bursts into a fit of utterly effervescent giggles. "Oh! Oh no. You're funny!"

Heryn tries, bless him, but he can't quite keep in a small snort for Rezia's cross-eyed expression, the sharp, humored sound quickly shifting into quiet laughter for her obvious distress. "No, no," he explains quickly, flicking soap from his hands to point, "I meant your clothes. They've got a bit of something on them." Just a tad, really! Amusement is quick to fade in the face of being handed that basket, and coquettish headtilts or no, he eyes it for a long moment before issuing a sigh. "I'll trade you. Laundry for the story on how in Faranth's name you managed this." It is, after all, impressive, and it just has to be good if there's firelizards involved. Rezia's giggling earns a slight brow-raise and a surprised glance back towards Emiallis, whom the man had more or less tuned out in the same way she'd done to him, absorbed in the task at hand. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what she's on about, though, and if he drawls a sassy little 'mmhmm,' well, can you blame him really? Laundry duty was the worst.

There's laughing. At her. Intolerable. Emiallis finally looks up from her task of attempting to scrub that stain out, one hand still in the water clutching the shirt as he head slowly comes up, both her eyebrows raised, her expression clearly saying 'Excuse me?!' "Excuse me?!" Well. She said it too. "What. Is so funny?" And then her eyes trail to the pile of hopefully-mud covered clothing, and her green eyes raise back up to the rider, the incredulous expression still there. "What. Did you do to those poor clothes?" Isn't Emi just so fun to be around? She's like, the ultimate charismatic person. Or the complete opposite.

She's slow, it seems. Or just odd. Probably odd. Actually, scratch the 'probably'. "Oh! Oh, that. Yeah. That… happened." But then requests are being made and the brownrider's lower lip pops out in a pout at Heryn. Rezia keeps that basket held out - assuming he didn't take it - while she heaves a long-suffering sigh and rolls her eyes and oh sweet Faranth she's even stamping a foot like a petulant child. It just doesn't have the weight of true irritation or anger, thank goodness. It's all a fine show, really, and she'll launch into the tale - shortly. "Oh! Oh, you. He asked so nicely! Why can't you? Or are you being silly again? I'll bet you're being silly." That's some genuine confusion right there. Fortunately, it's also short-lived. Her eyes flick right back to Heryn and she's right back to pouting. "At least take the basket, please? It's so heavy. I'll tell you, I promise! But oh my goodness it's been a day already."

Odd, but amusing. Heryn takes the proferred basket at last, the sharp roll of his own eyeballs towards the ceiling tempered by a sideways grin. "Yeah, yeah, alright, give it here," he says, as much to end the petulance as to encourage the telling of the story, though there is a sucked intake of breath for Rezia calling Emiallis silly. Maybe that will go over just fine, but then, maybe not, and Heryn is really quite quick to busy himself with the alleged laundry if only to keep from getting caught in the middle just in case. "So, firelizards, did you say? Do tell!" Distraction tactics, go!

Emiallis finds Rezia's attitude far less amusing than Heryn seems to. But she's been scrubbing for at least an hour or two at other people's clothing. Other people's disgusting clothing. Point being, she finally wrings out the shirt with a stain, while retaining a less-than-amused glower at the rider. Uh, Emi? Careful on how hard you're wringing that shirt. It's not meant to be a rag yet. That scathing glower gets turned onto Heryn as he deploys distraction tactics, but somehow her mouth remains shut. There's an angry flush creeping up her neck, but for now she's silent. With a sharp snap she unbunches that poor shirt which has now also acquired a hole along a previously stressed seam, and puts it into the hamper of things to be hung. For a long moment she just stands there, staring at the rider, before she moves that basket somewhere between her and Heryn, picking up the next top most piece and plunking it into her wash bin. "Need a stick…" She mutters under her breath.

"So!" Free from her burden, Rezia's able to dance - yes, dance - back a couple of steps and twirl in place, the damp hem of her dress fluttering sadly. She pouts at it, shakes it out, but doesn't try again. There's a poorly timed clap after that - really, it was supposed to go immediately after the twirl, but such is life - and then she gestures broadly overhead as if setting the scene. "Sooo. Let's take a step back to yesterday," and she does, with just a twitch of a hip. "I was in one of the really nice pools, you know? With a mud mask- just, you know, mud, to cover all of this," there's a vague gesture at her face and chestal regions, her hands fluttering a bit. "and I guess my firelizards told Pralayth and Pralayth asked me what it was and I told him-" There's just the slightest break here, as her attention slides from Heryn to Emiallis again, though, bless her, she just offers the Candidate a sympathetic smile and murmurs low, "Is it warm in here for you? Because I'm hot." It's the reddening, see. That's what she's catching on. But! Back to the story.
"So! Um. Where- right. So, I told him that it's just to keep my skin nice. And he told them that - but, I guess, maybe, it got all confused or something?" She motions at the heap of muddy laundry and spins again; this time with a better flare to the skirt. Nice. "Because they just dragged all that through the mud and Pral helped them get it back in the weyr." She pauses, for just a breath, before finishing with, "… because they thought I was itchy and my other skins were the problem. Firelizards, eh?"

Heryn's not sure what he expected, but it definitely isn't this. He starts out listening as well as washing, gaze only flicking up to grin for the off-timed clap that follows her disappointing spin, but the longer it goes on, the less he scrubs. There might be a brief purse of his lips for it being warm in here, but he's definitely not smirking, not at all and what, he's just coughing, and certainly not laughing. Nay! Still, the mirth passes quickly when the story resumes, and by the time Rezia flares her skirt a second time, he's just sort of… staring, the piece of clothing in his hands dripping mud and water into his basin in equal portions. "Shells, lady. Are you a Harper? I feel like I owe you a quarter-mark for the performance," he jokes at length, eyes scrunching up over a grin. "That… certainly explains why they're muddy on the inside, too. I thought that seemed a little… thorough for everyday mudding." Because everyday mudding, totally a thing! There is a brief grimace for it though, as well as a nod and a fervent glance around the room. "Yeah, need something. Lemme see if I can find us a washboard, at least…" And off he goes! He'll surely be back to finish once he finds one. Totally!

"I feel like some of my brain just dribbled out my ears." Emiallis shoots back in an undertone to Heryn before he's running around trying to find something for them to use to wash this new pile of more-than-disgusting clothing. During Rezia's whole performance, Emi's anger has seeped out into merely being contempt. The grin that she gives Rezia is most definitely forced and not necessarily nice. "Why don't you go and run along now and give your firelizards and dragon a nice, stern talking to?" There's a finger-waggle shoo motion made, and her voice couldn't possibly be more condescending. She went to ditzy level sweet-venom tone for this. And without waiting for Rezia's possible reaction, Emi is bending back to the task, forcing the clothes under the water by poking at it until a foreign object can be found.

Performance concluded, the brownrider bends into a bow and finishes up with a couple of claps when she finishes. Rezia positively beams at both of them, though it's Heryn her eyes find first. Probably because he's talking about marks. "Oh! Oh, no. No. That one's free of charge, yeah, yeah? I mean, it's true, and that's… well. It's not worth much, you know?" She winks, her grin gone lopsided, and she leans in just to murmur, "But the next one? That'll cost you, handsome." A wiggle of fingers follows, just a quick little tease, and then she straightens to look at Emiallis. Heryn's departure is probably registered somewhere in her head, but she's busy - and kind of flighty, let's just be honest about that. Her grin remains, though it straightens up into a proper curve. "The heat'll do that to your brain," she muses, bouncing just a little in place. "And- you know? I would. But I really think Pralayth likes it when I scold him. Maybe you oughtta do it next time, mm?" So much for that, probably? Though she adds, bright and cheery, "After he's had a go at his own mud bath, that is! Then maybe you won't be so sour about doing laundry, you know?" But, unhelpfully, this is all offered as she makes her way out, her laundry deposited and her hands free. She's out in a blink - and Faranth knows if she's actually going to remember a word of her kinda-sorta threat.

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