13.Feb.14, 06:06 PM
S'cer calmly averted his eyes as T'lian threw his arms around Khaduceth's muzzle, uncomfortable at the sudden display of affection. He was demonstrative with Quelseth, but not to the extent of this--a pat or stroke was nearly all he felt comfortable doing in front of anyone. He knew how she felt about him, and she was well aware of his deep affection for her--they did not need to act it out for everyone in the weyr, as S'cer thought of it as private between the pair of them.
But he was glad that T'lian was coming with him, in any case. S'cer matched the healer's grin with a laugh, gesturing at his own muddy leathers. "You and me both, I'm afraid." The water barrel was mostly full, and S'cer had half a mind to just wipe off the worst of it and head to the bathing house later in the evening. "You can clean up at my hut, if you want. I'll lend you a tunic too--wouldn't do to have you running around covered in blood. Might induce some kind of panic." He smiled, pleased to have someone to joke with, even if S'cer's brand of humor was often sarcastic.
The walk back wasn't too far, as S'cer had promised. His hut was one of the furthest east as well as north, the proximity good for the hunting grounds but abysmally far from the Weyr proper. S'cer didn't mind, as he enjoyed his solitude, but he could only wonder what T'lian would think of his choice of a hut. He scrambled to think of the cleanliness of his hut, panicking, when Quelseth laughed, low and amused.
Everything is in order, S'cer. You don't have to fret. He could see her in her hollow, brightly green against the gloom, and smiled in relief as she talked him down.
And he was fretting, which was unusual for him. S'cer blushed before ducking inside to grab a bag of sweetsand and a few scraps of cloth to scrub with, dropping everything at T'lian's feet before rounding the side of the hut to fill the metal wash tub that hung on the side by the water barrel. "I don't want to dirty up everything," he offered as some sort of explanation as he brought the wash tub back and sat it on a small bench by the front door.
He couldn't quite look at T'lian as he worked at the fastening of his leathers, and instead turned to the business at hand. S'cer shed the heavy jacket without a second thought as well as the thin tunic beneath it and tossed both one end of the bench, shivering a little at the drizzle as it fell on bare skin, and scooped up a handful of sweetsand, scrubbing at his face and arms with methodical movements and rinsing the suds away just as calmly.
"How are things at the Healer Hall?" It was a vague attempt at small talk, but S'cer was willing to try it if it meant he could get T'lian talking. "No mishaps of late?"
But he was glad that T'lian was coming with him, in any case. S'cer matched the healer's grin with a laugh, gesturing at his own muddy leathers. "You and me both, I'm afraid." The water barrel was mostly full, and S'cer had half a mind to just wipe off the worst of it and head to the bathing house later in the evening. "You can clean up at my hut, if you want. I'll lend you a tunic too--wouldn't do to have you running around covered in blood. Might induce some kind of panic." He smiled, pleased to have someone to joke with, even if S'cer's brand of humor was often sarcastic.
The walk back wasn't too far, as S'cer had promised. His hut was one of the furthest east as well as north, the proximity good for the hunting grounds but abysmally far from the Weyr proper. S'cer didn't mind, as he enjoyed his solitude, but he could only wonder what T'lian would think of his choice of a hut. He scrambled to think of the cleanliness of his hut, panicking, when Quelseth laughed, low and amused.
And he was fretting, which was unusual for him. S'cer blushed before ducking inside to grab a bag of sweetsand and a few scraps of cloth to scrub with, dropping everything at T'lian's feet before rounding the side of the hut to fill the metal wash tub that hung on the side by the water barrel. "I don't want to dirty up everything," he offered as some sort of explanation as he brought the wash tub back and sat it on a small bench by the front door.
He couldn't quite look at T'lian as he worked at the fastening of his leathers, and instead turned to the business at hand. S'cer shed the heavy jacket without a second thought as well as the thin tunic beneath it and tossed both one end of the bench, shivering a little at the drizzle as it fell on bare skin, and scooped up a handful of sweetsand, scrubbing at his face and arms with methodical movements and rinsing the suds away just as calmly.
"How are things at the Healer Hall?" It was a vague attempt at small talk, but S'cer was willing to try it if it meant he could get T'lian talking. "No mishaps of late?"