[ OPEN ] Hot Springs Episode!

[shri]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: The Second Flight
WHEN: DAY :022
SUMMARY: The Sauna!
WARNINGS: Nekkid times.

[ A few hours after the murder, she hasn't blown the ship up, and here they are. Another knock knock on everyone's brain: ]

( For those of you that are interested - I have secured us a place at the Sauna. Free for us to be use without interruption from outsiders.

You are to be clean before you come in. )

[ Maybe you're here because she bullied you, maybe you want to soak - maybe you're the poor bastard that is standing guard at the door. Either way, welcome to the Suana, have fun. Or don't. ]

Comments

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[calhar]

[ It's the second time someone's opted for meaning over words, and Mat's still not sure he likes it. It's clean, sure, but he could do without the distinct sense of unease that goes along with her thoughts — the thoughts of those dead bodies, specifically, and of just how exposed they'll be in the baths. ]

Burn me, woman.

[ There's no real bite to it. It's said under his breath, as sympathetic as it is uncomfortable. She's got a point. And while his words say otherwise, he can't help giving his knives a reconsidering glance. ]

There's no use in surviving if you can't enjoy it every once in a while, is there?

[ The statement's punctuated by him stepping out of his pants, and he pointedly tosses them on top of his knives to stop himself second-guessing. Mat turns and takes a few quick strides to the pool, and then Clarke's getting treated to a generous spray of water when he jumps in. Not quite as nuanced as sharing complex emotions to get his meaning across, really, but it probably does a good enough job all the same. ]

[skaikru]

( it's a bit of an affront, having words she vaguely remembered paraphrasing in a different time (a different world, a different life it was beginning to feel like) thrown back at her. enough of a sentiment to make clarke freeze, an inaudible record scratch in her brain as her hands still in her clothes and she blinks at the stone like a revelation has just befallen her; forced to take stalk of her reservations and hesitation. if there really was no hope of ever leaving the nest, was she better suited to fall into the welcoming arms of the hivemind? was resistance futile and her stubborn attrition more detrimental to their cause than helpful. if she was stuck in the past and focused on returning home to save her people, was she doing a greater disservice to those around her now? had they become her people, and this — dusty horse races, death, funeral pyres, the constant thrum of the tangible link between herself and her broodmates, and apparently hot springs — her life now?

any great, philosophical answers on the cusp of discovery are jarred from her mind as mat skitters and jumps right into the pool beside them. the splashing is liberal enough for a few stray droplets to hit her in the face as clarke turns, and something that wants so desperately to be exasperation curls in on itself until it resembles bemusement. )

Really? ( her undershirt and pants are damp now, thanks mat. but they'll survive. and if she needed any additional tempting into the water and away from her constantly overflowing contemplation, his lead proves easy enough to follow.

there is a sharp, pointed prod across the link; no real shape to the words, but the implication is strong — look that way — as clarke goes about stripping off the last bits of her wet clothes. there's some fumbling with a towel and plenty of artful crossing of her arms across her chest, but less than a minute later she's submerging up to her neck in warm water.

and it's nice. like a warm hug, tension and soreness she hadn't even acknowledged seeping from her muscles almost immediately. there's a sigh that borders on a moan, and clarke allows herself one full minute of closing her eyes and simply feeling good before lifting her arms to gather her hair into a messy bun. )

[calhar]

[ The most obnoxious part about Clarke's tendency to overthink things is that he's prone to the same habits. Mat's just gotten very good at telling himself otherwise, and he's gotten extremely good at convincing others that he rarely thinks about anything twice. Easier done when they can't see inside his head, admittedly, but his own lack of self-awareness serves as a decent buffer.

Which is all to say that the record-scratch and the abrupt navel-gazing registers with some familiarity before the splash steals Clarke's attention. It's a relief, and Mat's smiling — not quite grinning — when he turns to face the opposite wall. ]

When's the last time you had a hot bath?

[ Completely shallow small talk. It feels weirdly self-indulgent — and weirdly significant for that reason — in the midst of subterfuge and murders. Her relief could easily be accounted for by the pilgrimage thus far, but he wouldn't be surprised if she'd been roughing it before that. What he's glimpsed of her world hasn't exactly been pristine. ]

[skaikru]

It's been... a while.

( reluctantly washing off the filth of the wilderness and the last remnants of hair dye while under guard in polis hadn't exactly been... pleasant. the tub had been old and heavy, and the water warm, but lacked the pleasant aromatic oils, and the comfort of being around those clarke would loosely consider friends. she hadn't been anywhere near at ease enough to tip her head back and close her eyes. )

Almost two months. I usually just shower, it's more efficient.

( though it's been even longer since she had a nice shower. regular personal hygiene wasn't the highest priority during her time on earth, and one became noseblind to the smell of sweat and dirt very quickly. )