Blood, Sand, Water, and Booze

TarRaCe Baths

The idea of a communal bath isn't a new thing to Bryn. The concept of a HOT bath (communal or otherwise), though, is a creature comfort she might be getting a bit fond of. Even more now that the weather outside is not really made for swimming.

So it is that she's soaking in the central bath to work off sand, sweat, and maybe some blood. Half-seated and half-sprawled against one side of the pool, stripped down to a minimum of modesty for maximum bathing.

The hot bath was always a popular destination. Though... with the potential blood has seemed to scare away some customers. Not a certain Dragoon though; Aelwyn steps into the communal hall carrying several pure towels, with a hand testing the freshly healed wounds by his abdomen. At a quick glance it may have appeared he were in the nude - but at a second glance he was obviously forced to wear the red swimwear.

With a lazy rolling gait, he stops by the edge of the pool and then puts a hand on his hip. "Charge extra for the blood, Braid?" He grins.

Bryn looks up at the sounds of someone entering (since it is a bit vacant at the moment) and follows the red dragoon with her eye. At his question, she looses a laugh. "Ha! Nah. T'weren' -that- much. Jus a bit from scrappin inna Colosseum." A few scrapes is all; she isn't turning the water pink or anything.

She then eyes his scales, taking a moment to notice the swim/under wear and lets out another snort of a laugh. "Ev'rybody's all worried bout ev'rybody else's bits 'n bobs danglin round." She waves her hand casually up at one of the several signs reminding of swimwear. "Didn' know ye lizards had nothin danglin." Obviously she's not a biology expert to know, nor a diplomat to not comment.

The scales were as lustrous as ever - even if scuffed and scarred. His body was obviously no stranger to taking cuts and blows - and plenty of loving care. Aelwyn lets out a grumbling sound, spreading his arms. "Policy." He states, "They even force this one to wear a shirt out there." The sith-makar then flashes his teeth. "Therefore, this one can only state that the demonstration would certainly not be 'nothing'."

The importan discussion resolved, the draconian slinks into the hot water - and one could audibly hear all the tiny criks and pops that leave out of him. All that hotness, just for him. "Hnnh." He breathes. "So who did Braid beat up?"

Not all for him. He's not allowed to absord all the heat, but there's plenty enough to go around. For now.

"Bryn rolls her shoulders; both in shrug and to stretch them. "M'self, mostly. Gettin used ta hittin more 'n harder with this side," she lifts her left hand up some, but only enough to splash the top of the water.

Bushy brows then quirk up. "How's bout ye? Looks like ye been scrappin some and caught some licks."

Aelwyn watches the hand rise up. He clicks his teeth before leaning against the side of the pool. "Still not planning to visit the healer?" He asks with a tilt of his head, causing the various ribbons on his horns to tip over. "Ah, but this one appreciates the flexibility."

At the question, the Dragoon falls silent for a moment, before he rolls his shoulders. "Ah, a few cuts and bruises whenst fighting evil and good." He flashes his teeth. "Though this one should practice the dance more;" He touches his chest again. "Far too many cuts for this one's liking."

Bryn lifts her forearm stump. "Eh, s'all healed up, now. Jus' not growin back." Then she grins tuskily. "Gotta new one inna works, though. Better'n the old one, even. Still worth it learnin ta swing either side, right?" Another glance to him and she adds, "Maybe learnin ta block or duck either side'd be good, too."

Aelwyn points. "And one did not mention armor." He flashes his teeth. "How can one dance if one is wearing plates of metal?" It seems that this particular topic, is one that gets plenty of rise out of the Dragoon. "Should perhaps do such in the Colosseum."

The draconian looks at the stump again, and then falls quiet for a moment. "What made you hold that mirror?"

Bryn nods. "Ye. Li'l armor's good, most times. Lots just makes ye slow. Noisy. Rubbed raw. Easy ta get found 'n bashed." She seems a fan of travelling light, at least comparatively. She is definitely a fan of the arena and grins broadly. "Scrappin 'n tusslin's the best way ta learn, short o' really gettin yer arse handed ta ye."

The question then surprises her a little, and causes her to think for a moment, brow furrowing. "Eh... seemed like a good idea atta time? I mean, knew it weren' good. Carver jus jumped all up innit all on 'er own. I jus' sorta borrowed the idea. Figgered the mirrors were made fer bouncing all that magical shite around already, so might work for that, too. Did, too. Didn' hurt the mirror none and melted half the face off the thing."

Aelwyn nods at Bryn's words and then flashes his teeth. "A soul to this one's liking; this one should carry one as testimony to the doubters out there." He grins, before falling silent again. He tilts his head curiously.

"Huntress was very badly hurt, however. Still is," He taps his head, and gives a bit of a jerk upwards. "To risk that the mirror shan't work - that is not common bravery." He points out, but then he flashes his teeth. "Yet, what is life worth living, if one cannot take a little risk for one's companions?"

"Ye, noticed that..." Given her falling grin, she's referring to Carver's hurting and not other accolades. Well, for a split second, that is, and the grin returns. "An unca once told me: ye ain' really livin til yer fightin against dyin. I ain' much fer sittin still; doin shite's more my thing. Don' think on it overmuch, neither. If'n Kor gave me an idea, it's s'posed ta be used, so I use it!"

Aelwyn twists his lips. "Dangerous. Ideas can be very dangerous." The draconian says - and then there's a brief pause. He seems to phase off - but then with a rough shake of his shoulder he pulls back down his grin again. "Ah, this one cannot fault one for that. If one has it, one should use it."

He gestures towards the edge of the pool, "This one shall fetch a bottle." He states - and then clambers up the pool. His tail flicks upwards as he _streetches_ his athletic body out, before standing. "Shall this one fetch one for Braid as well?" He asks, with a flicker of his tongue.

"Ain' gonna stop -THAT- idea, neither," Bryn offers him another wide grin. "If'n ye fetch, I'll drink. Get it all while it's 'ere ta be got." The best living is living it up while the chance is there, right?