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Post by Deleted on May 3, 2015 16:11:17 GMT -8
((OOC: Despite how fun onsens are, we had to cap this rp and it's now full, sorry! The participates are Citlal, Arielle, Al, Owen, Esther, and Asher!))
After much searching and several days of chasing rumors, Citlal discovered that the rumors were true: the HQ was in possession of an onsen.
She leaned against a wall, hip jutting out, as she surveyed the bath. It was gorgeous in every way. While most of the HQ was a muddled mash of various cultures and places and time periods put together, this was so poignantly Japanese. Whoever had built it had made it with love and attention to how they were traditionally made. The indoor tub was constructed with acrylic glass, and she could practically smell the minerals in the water. Iron, and maybe hydrogen carbonate. Both, most likely. Steam poured out and rolled over the floor toward her feet. The sign boasted healing properties and peace while firmly established the onsen as rather co-ed, which was perhaps the only thing not traditional about the entire bath. Citlal's lips quirked upward into a wry grin. Nice.
She shouldn't, she thought to herself. She really shouldn't. She had things to do—things that didn't involve soaking in the water for several hours. But she slipped into the changing room and tucked her clothes away before checking the bath again—still mercifully empty. She quickly washed and rinsed herself before returning to the bath, where she dipped her toe inside. The water was so mercifully warm, coaxing her further into the steam. With a wide grin, she slipped down into the bath and sank until her chin touched the surface, letting out a long exhale as the heat embraced her. The noise she made was practically a purr.
Dipping her head back, she wet her hair, turning the pink into a dark magenta that clung to her skin. The water seemed to cradle her, like the hot sun of South America, and she drifted back near the wall, letting her eyes close. She couldn't smell chlorine, which meant that this was a purer onsen. Lovely. A thought occurred to her—laughing at herself, she scrubbed off her lip paint, which had started to smear slightly.
There. Better.
She had no idea how long she'd get the onsen to herself before other apprentices started drifting in. It was still fairly new—just a rumor, lost among the twisting and turning of the HQ. She had a slight advantage as a cartographer, but she knew it'd only be a little while before news of it spread. So she closed her eyes and hummed to herself, a familiar lullaby from centuries past, and let her mind and body drift as the water carried her far, far away.
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Post by parkranger on May 3, 2015 17:20:05 GMT -8
((OOC: //SHOVES ASHER IN THIS RP TOO LMAO THIS GON B GUD. also ironic i just drew an Asher getting ready for a bath pic before i read this lmao it's destined to be))
Asher had heard rumors of a wonderfully relaxing Japanese spa, called an Onsen, he learned later. It sounded absolutely wonderful! And his wandering nature couldn't resist the challenge that was presented with trying to find this elusive corner of HQ. Once the rumor had started going around he'd began searching for it himself, and had finally stumbled upon it the other evening. Delighted, Asher made plans to come back tonight for a refreshing bath.
So there he was, standing in the changing room to the bath, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist and slinging a washcloth over his shoulder. He admired the atmosphere of the bath, it was really quite relaxing and very Japanese. The cubbies were small and wooden, and the floors were 'tiled' with smooth pebbles arranged in a mosaic pattern. They led out side to a steamy bath with neatly trimmed plants and bushes. Asher vaguely wondered if there was someone who actually trimmed those bushes regularly or if it was just another mysterious way HQ worked.
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Post by snip on May 3, 2015 17:45:01 GMT -8
Esther had been wanting to find this mysterious bath for some period of time now, and it seemed that she'd finally had a stroke of luck.
The other facilities were numerous, and some of them were rather nice... but she wanted something that reminded her of home. And there was no jjimjilbang to be found, no matter how hard she looked or how often she bothered those more familiar with Death's HQ -- so if her closest option was an onsen, so be it.
Well, the hunt was over. Finally she could relish the comforting warmth of a bath; she could submerge herself in water and almost forget about her constant, seemingly neverending job. And she was determined to enjoy it.
So determined, in fact, that meeting others there only gave her minor doubts. Her mind was wailing alarms and cries of Soon ja oh my do not do this there will be people here flee while you can -- but the part of her that wanted so desperately to indulge overrode it (with no extreme ease, but it had won out all the same).
She stowed away her clothes, scrubbed at herself until her skin was mildly reddened, and then scrambled into the water as quickly as possible. The pink-haired one -- Citlal -- was there; Esther made a note of this as she sat in the water, eyes peering out from under dampened bangs. There was no doubt that others would arrive, but so be it. So be it.
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Post by quinnquinn on May 4, 2015 2:01:25 GMT -8
Rumours did get around quickly at HQ, even if it was done in such an archaic manner such as mail. A letter had strayed from the mailroom the other day, only to have Owen stumble upon its raggedy torn self being fought over between two birds. He couldn't help but read the contents as he attempted to put it back together. An onsen, huh...
He'd had the privilege of going to Japan for reapings a few times in his apprenticeship, though he never found time to really go back and enjoy the sights for himself. He would one day, but this place wouldn't be a bad one to start with. Even if it was Death's, and perhaps not 100% purely like the real thing. He decided to head off after his shift today, if he didn't have too much else to do.
Owen found himself at the baths about an hour later. As much as he wished it was almost completely abandoned, the odd stranger here and there did prove well. His roommates had been talking to him about getting more practical clothes for HQ, but he liked this straitjacket a lot. He was unbuckled, undressed, sufficiently clean and ready to enter the baths in - well, probably in a longer time than he should have taken. Who knows how long he spent getting distracted at the architecture of the place.
Armed with a towel around his waist and two more in his arms, he ventured outside. The steam was thick, but welcoming. It made the air a little heavy but nonetheless it was nice. He planted his face in the towels and felt its texture on his fingers (he'd decided to take off all the plasters to let the skin breathe a little). Where would he sit himself? He looked around, scanning the barely filled area... a few men on the sides, a pink-haired woman, a loving couple over there--
Wait, there were women here?! Rather brazen for his tastes. Owen hid his face in his towels while quietly looking out again. He didn't know if it was segregated or not, but he got his answer. And it was too late to turn around now.
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Post by ChurroChariots on May 4, 2015 2:16:36 GMT -8
Rumors traveled fast in headquarters, but you know what didn't? Directions for said rumors. All this talk about an onsen, which turned out to be a traditional public bathhouse much like the ones from his time in Rome, and yet no one seemed to know how to find it. Really, if he was going to get lost searching for this thing, it wouldn't kill people to save their rumors until they knew where things were.
The mere fact that Headquarters felt like it was ever expanding and it still wasn't completely mapped out made him want to turn back at least twice. But sheer curiosity might have been what made him continue looking, and thankfully all that snooping paid off. The entrance to the onsen finally appeared, distinct in the way that the surrounding architecture suddenly gave way to a more wooden-looking front and entrance.
Oh, thank gods. This would have been such a waste of time otherwise.
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2015 4:21:02 GMT -8
All she had wanted was a place to relax.
Not a permanent place, of course; baths were perfunctory, a necessary tool used to help keep the body in good condition and, especially in more recent times, considered a necessity for social interaction. It took five minutes to wash sweat from her body after a session of practices sword stances and that was that. Arielle went on with her day and didn't think back on it -- save for now. And a few other select incidences, but the now was the most important; the small knight preferred to be practical in all aspects, and yet -- and yet there were times when she very much liked the idea of soaking in hot water for an unspecified amount of time. Relaxing would be -- nice. Relaxing would be nice. She could allow herself to luxuriate in the facilities at her disposal (the Knights had aspired to live humble lives -- but she wasn't paying for this. This was fine. She could indulge once, right?), and then perhaps tuck herself away with a book.
She wasn't one to easily condone such lazy behavior, but after her regular exercise for the day, Arielle had just -- wanted, she supposed. Wanted a small break.
And she had working ears, she had heard the rumors of an onsen buried deep inside of the belly of Death's Headquarters; the first whisperings hadn't much bothered her -- first because the apprentice homeground had everything if one listened to the rumor mills long enough, and second because, honestly, she hadn't the faintest idea what an onsen even was. In the end, it had taken an absent-minded mention to Al to get the whole mess cleared up, kindly (he was so very kind) explaining that onsens were oriental -- japanese -- hotsprings, that they were very nice and quite enjoyable.
Arielle was -- she was -- going to do something drastic to him. Cataclysmic. She was going to ensure that he never again deceived her in such a manner ever again; she was going to extract her revenge and it would be filled with righteous fury. The Knight of the Templar Order was going to -- to -- scramble his decimal system. Yes. But only for one shelf. One section of one shelf. Al was, after all, rather fond of his library and so was she, and it would be cruel to upset that.
But she had to let him know that this -- this was unacceptable.
For a split second, Arielle might have attempted to rationalize it by saying that perhaps the librarian didn't know the specifics of what this place entailed, save for the fact that he was far too knowledgeable to know of such a place then not research it if he had the time. Perhaps she would rearrange two sections of a bookshelf. How -- how could he allow her to enter such an salacious locale?
...Admittedly, she should have come to her senses when she heard voices as she rinsed off the sweat from her workout, but her damnable -- yes, damnable -- belief in the librarian had encouraged her to dismiss the matter at hand. After all, perhaps there were multiple sections, to accommodate the interest in such an area. Nothing to worry about. It was common to divide land up to service all --
It should go without saying that the assumption was -- wrong.
She could feel the cloying warmth before she had even cleared the doorway, humidity sticking to her skin, so great that it could be felt even through the dampness still present from the rinse beforehand. Although her towel was secure around her torso, habit ensured that she had a hand clutching the top regardless as further insurance; her hair, short as it was save for the frames, was left to stick to her face and neck in messy strands, and Arielle had not thought to wrap in up in a second cloth. Hadn't the faintest clue, to be honest -- the last time she had long hair, her hands will still child-soft and young children were not often trusted to bathe alone.
And now there was so much regret -- her knees were exposed. Her collarbones were clear to the air for anyone to see, and her toes curled into the stone floor as the grip on her towel turned white-knuckled -- even as the aforementioned bare collarbones ensured that anyone glancing in her direction would be able to see the vivid red spreading from her cheeks to her ears, down her neck and inching further down. She felt -- lightheaded. She was going to -- to sit down. Yes. Sit. There was a small stool next to a bucket, off to the side. Sit. Back facing to the onsen proper. Perhaps move when her legs felt able to support her weight again.
There were other people in the spring. Some of them she recognized. (Pink hair -- and a certain dark-skinned godless hedonist were burned into her retinas now.)
...Three sections. She was going to rearrange three whole sections of a bookshelf and she was not going to apologize.
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Post by Deleted on May 4, 2015 16:53:11 GMT -8
People started filing into the onsen, and to Citlal's great relief, they were respectful. They had all been here long enough and had enough exposure to Japanese culture to know than an onsen was a place of peace and healing. Even Citlal, with her tendency to chatter, knew enough to speak quietly. She recognized a few faces and picked the nearest one to engage, because sitting in a corner sounded a little dull at the moment. She drifted toward Esther, slowly, giving the other girl a chance to move away if she wished, before sinking lower into water beside her.
"Good evening." Her voice had a serene pleasure about it, and she leaned on a bench under the water and closed her eyes next to Esther, smiling. "When I first saw you in the water, I was so glad. I know so little about your culture, sadly, but you seem at home here. Did you have baths like these in your own culture?" She smiled, embarrassed, and sank lower into the water, further smearing what golden smudges were left of her lip paint. "We didn't. I only discovered these recently. They're so glorious."
The water in Tenochtitlan had often been warm, but never steamy. It was like being in a lake, but the air was thicker and pungent. She smiled and leaned back, but not before spotting some familiar black hair that was... sitting? on a bucket?
"Arielle, darling," Citlal called, "you may get steam from over there, but the acclaimed healing properties require actual contact with the water." Her tone was light, teasing, and gentle. She didn't push at all. She found Ari to be endearing, but... skittish. Like an animal that had been taught to fear and didn't know how to be loved. In a lot of ways, many apprentices didn't know how to be cared for. "Come join us, love? Your body and soul will thank you."
Her eyes crinkled happily as she spotted a few more faces that she knew. She gave a wave at Asher, who was far enough away that she didn't want to shout. She thought she recognized a few other faces, but those would have to wait. She settled back in her seat and gave her full attention to Esther, who she rarely interacted with. She half-expected the other girl to leave. It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest, given their polar opposite personalities.
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Post by parkranger on May 4, 2015 19:09:49 GMT -8
Asher was snapped from his thoughts when he noticed there were a few more patrons at the bath than he had expected. He supposed that was fine, word does spread pretty quickly around the HQ, and he couldn't have been the only person to have found the bath at that point. He looked out the exit of the changing room to the hot spring beyond and was surprised to find that this was a mixed bath. He flushed a bit, a little shy at the idea of sharing a bath with women. It seemed....a little inappropriate. He backed up a little bit and clutched the towel around his waist a little tighter. Of course, he was still going to enter the bath eventually, but first he had to get used to the idea of sharing it with women. He perked up a bit though as the pink haired woman called out a familiar name.
"Arielle...? Oh!" He mumbled to himself when he was hit with the realization of why the name sounded familiar. The knight girl from the other week! He remembered, looking around for the small, skittish knight. He recognized her hair first. She was sitting with her back to the bath, hunched over a bit and clutching her towel tightly. The way she was sitting worried Asher a little bit. Is she not feeling well? He approached her carefully and gently put a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey Arielle! It's me, Asher! Remember, from last week? You alright? You look kind of upset!" He frowned a bit when she seemed to tense up. He remembered some of her reactions from last week and quickly retracted his hand and retreated back a little ways. However, he had the misfortune of slipping on some smoother tiles that had been wet after another patron had walked by. Asher tensed and flailed his free arm for a moment before completely losing is balance and falling backwards. He landed rather hard on his back, and accidentally knocked over a few buckets that had been nearby. They crashed and clattered on the floor loudly as Asher groaned and sat up. His disruption had completely ruined the atmosphere of the serene bath. He rubbed his back and coughed a little bit, flushing a bit with embarrassment and smiling sheepishly.
"S-Sorry everyone! My bad!" He laughed as he went to clean up his mess. He hastily picked up a few of the buckets around him and glanced around for anymore stray ones. He spied one that had rolled back over to Arielle in the chaos.
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Post by snip on May 4, 2015 19:39:00 GMT -8
Esther peered up at Citlal, unsure of what to say. The pink-haired lady was asking about her culture? And hardly anyone asked anymore, what with the internet and books being what they were, and they certainly didn't ask her.
Talking... was not a specialty of hers. But the onsen did remind her of home (if vaguely), and the water's warm embrace was calming.
"Yes," she said. The pink-haired one -- Citlal --'s usual makeup was smudged. What a lovely color. Not that she would ever admit that. "We had places like these... not quite the same, but not altogether too different. They were -- are... called jjimjilbangs. The ones I encountered, though... this is different, but it is nice."
And then, in the distance, there was someone sitting on a bucket. How peculiar. Wait. Was that --
Yes. It was. Citlal's teasing invitation over had confirmed it. The tiny knight was here, sitting on a bucket instead of making contact with the lovely water. Esther wondered why she'd come; she could admit that she herself was antisocial, but Arielle....
Arielle took modesty to a particularly surprising level. Surprising even to Esther, who was fond of modesty. She supposed that she could respect the sentiment... her only true problem with Arielle was that the still thought her name was Esme. And that was problem enough.
Esther scoffed and slunk back into the water, but her still-unsubmerged eyes widened when they fell across the other person. The one that was not Arielle.
She watched as he called out to Arielle, but then her heart skipped a beat as he slipped, flailed, and crashed into some buckets. The loud clatter had turned heads; Esther gave a wince of sympathy (and, if she was to be honest, severe secondhand embarrassment for him), and made a face. Who was this, now?
Oh, well. Redeeming qualities. At least he was picking up the buckets.
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Post by quinnquinn on May 4, 2015 21:10:49 GMT -8
Some other people had entered, and they were making a mess. He moved closer towards the action, wondering what was going on.
More people. And another woman, who seemed to be also visibly mortified by being here. At least she was covering up though. Owen walked over and ah, he might have been noticed by now. He couldn't turn back now. He made himself known to the others there. No point hiding anymore. He wasn't good at that.
Owen walked over and carefully avoided the fallen buckets and slipping on the rocky floor. He still his his face in his towels though. Not that really made a difference anymore.
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Post by ChurroChariots on May 5, 2015 23:34:27 GMT -8
He'd put his clothes away when inside the changing room, picking up two of the many towels whoever owned this place had put out, before going to wash off.
He let the water wash over him as he let his mind wander. And think, really, about how different cultures could emerge completely separate from each other and yet come up with similar ideas to satisfy basic human needs or desires. Rome had had communal baths, as well, as it was harder to own your own private bath unless you were wealthy--and you were still allowed to go to the communal baths even if you were wealthy--and some of the rooms in the bath even had implements underneath to heat the water. The idea that other cultures figured out how to work with the land they were given to do the same thing was spectacular to him. Give a man or community an idea and eventually they'll figure something out, no matter where they were from.
He splashed water on his face once more before turning off the faucet, shaking the left over water off his hands. Rivulets of water fell from his hair, running down his face if close enough. He patted his hair and face dry with one of the towels, before fixing the other one securely around his waist.
A loud thump came from outside, followed by several smaller clattering noises, startling him. The thump was loud enough to belong to a person, and part of him cringed at the idea of someone slipping and cracking their head here of all places. Sure, they wouldn't die, but that'd be quite the story to tell one of the medics as they were patching you up.
He peeked out of the changing room, seeing a man crouched down on the floor, picking up buckets. Really, how do you knock down that many of them in one fall? It had to be impressive.
He looked over in the direction that he was moving towards, noting the small shape huddled on yet another bucket and, recognizing the black A-line haircut, called out to her, "Arielle!"
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2015 1:18:52 GMT -8
She had nice toes. Excellent, serviceable toes that gave her balance she could count on in a crisis and knew all the footwork to her favorite sword forms, and were quite practiced at keeping themselves underneath her. All in all, dependable feet Arielle would carry into countless other lifetimes given the slightest opportunity. Sure, the heels and a good portion of the flats of her feet were tough with callouses and, hm, she perhaps was in need of a quick nail-trim when she returned to her shared quarters, but those were prices the Templar was willing to pay for such fine, fine feet. That she was not at all focusing on. That, coincidentally, also looked rather nice against the floor of the -- establishment. A floor she was also not focusing on.
On the flip side, her knees -- oh, did Arielle have some choice thoughts about her knees.
Knees were such fickle, fickle body parts, what with their semi-ticklish tendencies (not that she was admitting to anything. At all. Ever. ...She had a knife and knew how to use it.) and, and, and their... bendy... ness. That was an obvious marker for a suspicious joint, and such a suspicion was confirmed with the quite alarming realization that Arielle was positive that they were feeling... weak. Wobble-prone. Jittery. Unable to support her weight if she embarked on a rapid exit. An important, vital-to-her-continuing existence exit, because she was beginning to feel -- rather faint. Lightheaded. Arielle had rarely been tempted to swoon under any circumstance (dehydration and/or heat exhaustion notwithstanding), but it was... possible... that her current predicament warranted such a phrasing. Alas, she would be able to escape aforementioned plight if her knees would cooperate, but they were traitors of the highest degree, and as such should be challenged to a duel and shown the error of their ways. The error being their refusal to work. Because she would really, really like for them to not shake if she attempted to put weight upon them. It would be -- it would be rather nice, that was all she was saying.
Focused on blocking out her troublesome (and distressing, and deplorable, and grievous) surroundings, the black-haired woman wasn't quite aware of the way she was beginning to curl in on herself (for an ostensible "better look" at her feet, no doubt), and just as unaware of any attention she had garnered, if any. She could do this. She could do this. Receiving her training had taken a herculean amount of effort; surely this would take far less -- all she had to do was pretend with all her might that she wasn't in a public bathhouse -- a public mixed-sex bathhouse -- wearing naught but a terrycloth --
The back of her neck was fluorescent.
Arielle had -- she had almost managed it, freedom within her sights; she had just... she had just advanced a touch too early. She could try again, the french woman reasoned, and because she could now allow any less she would succeed and she would stand herself up on perfidious knees and solid feet and march back into the -- oh Lord -- changing rooms, reacquire her c-clothes, and return to her rooms. And -- pray. Praying would be a wonderful activity to engage in. She just -- had to focus again, without disruptions. Because she had such tremendous feet, a miraculous result of His sculpting --
"Arielle, darling," the pink-haired woman in the water greeted, the rest drowned out by--
Merde. Merde, merde --
A hand descended upon her shoulder, and nothing could hold back the reflexive jump, the momentary reach for a knife -- towel, towel, towel -- save that. "Hey, Arielle! It's me, Asher!" said the idolatus dark-skinned defiler.
C’est vraiment des conneries.
Back hunched like a wet cat, Arielle couldn't be bothered to pay attention to a single word uttered afterward, intent on twisting away from the damp hand on her warm (too warm) shoulder and using the sudden burst of desperation to fuel the most dignified exit she could manage. Hadn't he learned -- hadn't she told him, using the best words she could muster, that she very much did not appreciate his -- his attempts to pull her into his gluttonous hedonism --
When Asher pulled away, she spared a moment to blink several times in succession, head turned in the direction of the shoulder his hand had touched -- just in time to see him fall. It was -- spectacular, Arielle could admit, the in the small section of her mind that wasn't singing praises (and hymns, and verses, and a Hail Mary or two for good measure) to Him for making sure that the towel wrapped around the hedonist's waist did not unravel. He was merciful, indeed.
She wasn't one to think malicious thoughts, but it wasn't malicious to appreciate a bit of excellently-timed karma, right? Instead, it was... something. Regardless, she didn't bother to hold back the smile curving her lips or the bark of laughter that emerged, poorly smothered with the hand not clenching her own terrycloth (this was important, very important, not even amusement would prevent her from forgetting that detail), the corners of her eyes crinkling as the other apprentice was forced to clean up his own mess, as was appropriate.
One of the buckets had rolled in her direction, and the weight of her circumstance once more fell on her. She -- she hardly wanted to help the hedonist clean a righteously-created clutter, but he was picking up the buckets, and every cell in her body was clamoring to not be within arm's reach of the man until he learned boundaries and manners, possibly for the rest of her apprenticeship if she could manage it. But the changing rooms were still too far away -- and the pink-haired woman had invited her into the springs (or Ari assumed, at least), but there were -- other people there -- did she want to --
Her flush began to heat up again, and the hand covering her mouth moved to press to a cheek, fingers curling to mold themselves to her scarred face. Why do people have to be unclothed for baths? She bemoaned, at the moment quite convinced of its terrible inefficiency and the fact that one was awfully vulnerable without layers of cloth and metal covering up -- everything. Everything, preferably. Towels didn't cut it. Towels did not even begin to cover what needed to be --
The water was murky, some traitorous part of her brain observed (could the hedonist's touch... corrupt?), and brown eyes moved from the bucket to peek at the spring. Occupied by... others. (A towel-covered form registered faintly in her mind, somewhat familiar and obviously smarter than she, having multiple cloths to protect themselves with -- she would have been tempted to ask them for one except her current situation was very attention-grabby.) The "others" factor was undesirable, but the relative camouflage offered by the liquid was... well, it didn't sound... unappealing. And Arielle had been looking forward to a nice after-workout soak, and should she let a couple of other apprentices stand -- sit -- in her way of such enjoyment -- almost naked--
...Yeah, she wasn't getting past that.
"Arielle!" another voice called, and said french woman almost grabbed the bucket to throw, because what was it with this vile place and its inability to give her a single moment's peace to work things out -- and then the voice registered.
"...Al?" Arielle asked, hoping that everyone within earshot would ignore the too-high pitch of her voice, grateful that it was hard to stumble over a single syllable. It was nice to see a single face she felt comfortable with, setting aside the fact that said librarian was the reason she had come here in the first place -- wait. She had -- she had... questions. A question, honestly. "Did you -- know -- that this... onsen... was... mixed?" Her voice squeaked on the last word.
Four shelves if he answers yes, the knight told herself, putting every ounce of stern discipline inherited from her teacher into that phrase.
Which, ah, may have flown out the window the moment she noticed/remembered that, once again, they were in a lewd location. Which meant that Alcaeus, like the map-making sybarite grabbing buckets from the floor, was wearing a single towel around his waist and -- and not much else.
What an awfully nice, dependable ceiling, Arielle mused, craning her neck.
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2015 13:03:40 GMT -8
A response. Both surprised and pleased, Citlal tested the foreign word on her tongue, although it sounded stranger when weighed on by her hinted accent. "Jjimjilbangs." What a fun word to say, and nuanced in a way that Esther's tongue easily produced but required great focus from Citlal. She broke into a wider smile, trying the word again. "Jjimjilbang. What were—"
She was, of course, interrupted by the crash, and watched the vague compassion as Asher scrambled to right the mess. The scene would've been one to laugh at, but she could see the Ari's countenance taking on a shade of red akin to fire. She wished it was anyone but Ari. The girl was obviously having a hard enough time as it was. Settling back into the onsen, Citlal clicked her tongue in a pitying sound, deciding to give the scene no further attention, at least until the small knight's embarrassment was subdued.
Catching sight of another familiar face, however, her lips did quirk upward in amusement. She knew there were some that could find Owen slightly off-putting, but being around someone so honest was refreshing. No masks with Owen. No games. She rested her arms on the side of the onsen and plopped her chin on them, grinning at Owen while he shuffled around the edge of the onsen, face hidden in a towel.
"I'm not sure that they knew what they were getting into with this place, poor dears," she murmured in a gentle aside to Esther. Her tone was light, amused, and fond. It was clear that she held great affection for both Ari and Owen, despite the grin that kept the corners of her lips twitching and dancing while she tried to smother it.
"Owen, love," she said, full-voiced again. "You can join us if you'd like. Familiar faces might be a comfort." She covered another grin with her hand—she was trying very hard to keep from laughing. "If it helps you, pumpkin, I'll even don a towel." Considering the company, that seemed like a good course of action. If she wanted Ari to even consider greeting her, that is, and for Owen to stop acting like he was in a whorehouse. Her collarbones would still be visible (and they were very cute collarbones, she felt), but at least they wouldn't have to gaze upon the sinful, wretched curves of the rest of her body. "Hand me one, will you?"
Goodbye, worldly pleasures, she thought with a teasing smile. Perhaps another time, when the company isn't so skittish.
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Yo! What's up?
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Post by parkranger on May 12, 2015 10:20:50 GMT -8
((HHSHSHSJD I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING EVERYONE WAIT OTL))
Asher picked up the remaining buckets, deftly snatching away the one closest to Arielle, noticing her impulsive twitch towards grabbing it to throw. Knowing her strength despite her small size, Asher knew that a bucket to the face from Ari would not be a good thing. Thankfully, he'd cleaned up all the buckets he'd knocked over clumsily and stacked them further off to the side, where maybe they wouldn't have as much of a chance of being knocked into. As he stacked them in the corner, he saw another young man call out to Arielle. He almost called out to stop him, seeing as how Ari seemed only a few moments away from actually exploding. He stopped however when it seemed like she knew this fellow.
His face was still a bit red from the embarrassment of having caused such a commotion, and he walked up to the other two, clapping the new comer on the back before saying, "Ah...sorry for the mess! It won't happen again. But hey, come on into the bath when you all are ready, it looks really nice! I think you'd enjoy it Ari....you seem kinda...tense!" He laughed and raised his hand in temporary farewell, leaving the two to discuss whatever they wished. He finally turned back to the onsen, and after having embarrassed himself by tipping over the buckets, he figured he could sit in a bath with a few women in it and not be too embarrassed. He slipped into the warm silky water with a groan and a sigh, the heat helping ease his aching back from where he fell. He made his way over to a warmer spot in the bath, over by some neatly trimmed bonsai trees, and settled into the hot water with a sigh. He always had liked his baths a bit on the hotter side.
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Snip, snip, snip
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Post by snip on May 22, 2015 21:46:23 GMT -8
"I'm not sure that they knew what they were getting into with this place, poor dears," said Citlal, and Esther made a small noise of agreement. What on earth were they doing here? The modest knight and the towel-clad one seemed out of place amidst the others.
And now Citlal was calling out to latter. Owen. His name was Owen. The... bird boy? Yes -- he was the one that tended to the birds. And now he is here and Citlalicue is calling him over. She must know him. Hmmm. But why is she --
No. Enjoyment.
Esther sank a few centimeters back into the water, reveling in the warmth, and said nothing. Nothing at all.
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