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Temple Baths
A large circular window of colorful stained-glass depicting Naamah is framed by two crescent shaped ones, sitting further up the wall as to allow for generous lighting during the day, with the shades of the glass used in the center painting the interior of the Temple Baths in colorful hues. The light beige tiles of the stone floor are arranged in a pattern, spaces between filled with darker shade mosaic stones. The changing area is divided into two spaces, hidden away behind semi-opaque drapes. Here, visitors can leave their clothing and move over towards the pools that are filled with the warm waters of a hot well, a faint layer of steam lingering occasionally in the air directly above the waterline. A larger pool of white marble is in the center, between two smaller pools that offer room enough for two or three people each. At the edge of the pools, trays are provided at regular intervals, some holding various flagons of bathing oils while others hold bars of flowery soap and other bath implements.
Acolytes of Naamah, clad in the red flowing robes of the temple stand at the ready, to provide towels or robes when needed and make sure a peaceful atmosphere is maintained within the baths.
Having spent the better part of the last four months planning, designing, constructing and executing the House Glycine Fetish Ball, Cochonnet is, to put it mildly, drained. And in those post-partum moments, you can only turn your eyes to Naamah. Take off the clown make-up, un-strap your strap-on, come with your hair down to her altars and lower yourself into her calming waters. Her long black mane is spreading around her face, turned upward to the ceiling as she floats, leaning backward, arms loose, shoulders loose, lips parted, eyes wet as she leeches tension with a good and reverent cry.
While still getting acquainted with all Marsilikos has to offer, the young Shahrazai has already had a brief refreshing introduction to the baths with another youth. The heat has drawn her to the baths tonight, and she changes easily out of her attire. Unruly midnight hair is tamed for the moment in a loosely coiffed bun atop her head. She spies Cochonnet already enjoying the relief the baths have to offer, she walks past the woman, pausing to compliment her on the ball she recently threw. "Your fête was quite the feat…" An easy smile is offered with the comment before Sylvie slips into the waters of the central pool to enjoy a relaxing soak as well.
Coming out of the changing area, Yves takes one of the offered robes and drapes it around his well built frame so that he can walk around without feeling like he's putting on a show. He doesn't seem to be looking for anyone or anything in particular, but instead just picks one of the baths, tosses his robe off and slips into the water. In the moment between robe displacement and entering the water, it's obvious that he has some fresh bruising on his side, not fun bruises either, but something sort of brutal looking. From sparring or somesuch. Hearing the comment thrown to Cochonnet from the unknown he almost says something. But on seeing the state of the servant of Namaah and studying her for a moment, he keeps a bit of distance, and his mouth shut. Instead simply leaning his head back on the edge of the bath.
Cochonnet's ears are underwater, her eyes half-focused on a face not quite formed in the ceiling. But Sylvie is speaking to her, and her bright blue eyes shift and turn to follow her— her neck gains enough firmness to lift more of her head above the surface, her black hair sticking flat to her ears and making her lift a hand to push the webbing back. "Huh? Oh, thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, my Lady," she answers, able to piece together the compliment from half-heard syllables and a whole lot of context. She wanted to throw a party they'd be talking about for months to come, and, well, it may only be two days out, but it's working so far. No joke, either, no sexy quip or wink or lewd behavior. Just a human woman, after all, and humble servant of the Angel of Sex, as rarely enough spotted in the wild. But she rises further, in case the conversation is to continue, her shoulders breaching the surface as she tucks her legs down below her but still hers her arms float out through the water. She catches Yves slipping into the baths, and returns silence for silence— just a small smile hello.
"I did, thank you.." Sylvie replies to Cochonnet, but otherwise for the moment doesn't try to interrupt further on the woman's relaxation. She notes Yves as he joins the bath, and other than a nod of hello, she makes no motion to engage. Instead, she appears just as content as the rest of the bathers to enjoy the respite from the heat for the moment.
For his part, Yves returns Cochonnet's small smile with a smile of his own and an indication with his chin that she's welcome to join him on that particular edge of the bath, if she chooses. No pressure, he doesn't seem to want to engage her more than she seems inclined. The nod from Sylvie is returned. "I am Lord Yves Valliers," he introduces himself from the short distance away, which means he can probably be heard in adjacent baths, not that he seems to mind over much.
Cochonnet is glad for the affirmation. It's the entire point of the endeavor, after all, to bring joy. She doesn't say anything else, but she's got gratitude in her eyes for Sylvie's reply and her tearful decompression settles into something closer to serenity, at least in view of the others. She doesn't move to the other side of the bath, but it's an easily conversational distance between them, she's not really blowing him off, just… is comfortable where she is. She does look to Lady Blue when Yves introduces herself, hoping to catch the reciprocation, since she didn't manage to get her name that evening in the Wine Cellar.
"Good evening my lord Valliers, I hope tonight finds you well." Sylvie offers in reply, her attention fixing on Yves, "I am Sylvania Shahrizai de Mauron, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." How does one follow the typical protocols expected of court when sitting in a body of water? Sylvie straightens up momentarily before fluidly bobbing a curtsey in the water as if she were within her skirts. The same easy smile she had offered Cochonnet in passing the same as the one Yves receives now.
"And the same to you," Yves replies, without moving. His preference for physical gestures in the baths is to be totally relaxed. Turning his gaze back to Cochonnet, he thinks for a moment and perhaps a sign of his youth, that he can't stick to his original judgment, he rises to his feet-that bruise on his side standing out, and wades over toward her. Water running off his heavily muscled torso and dripping around him as he walks over, taking a knee not too far away, "I don't want to intrude on your solitude and relaxation, but if you need anything, please don't hesitate to say it," he mentions to the lounging Glycine. Doing his best to maintain some of that respectful distance still, just not as much.
"My Lady Sylvania," the words sort of float from Cochonnet's lips and hover over the water, saying them more to cement the name to the visage of the woman in the next pool than for any real conversational purpose— or perhaps she's only too relaxed to keep her internal narrative internal. Then Yves is rising through the waters and coming closer, and she looks to him. "Need anything?" she asks back. "It's kind of you, my Lord, but I'm alright. Just tired." Physically, mentally, emotionally— all the flavors of tired are right there in her eyes. "Looks like someone got you, there." she deflects the conversation casually away from herself.
Sylvie sinks back into the water after the brief interaction with Yves, she turns and heads toward the edge of the pool to see what sort of scents may take her interest out of the bounty of oils and soaps. As Yves and Cochonnet engage in conversation, Sylvie continues about her perusal, possibly listening or not.
"Would you like me to find you an adept with the Balm's skillset, perhaps?" Yves offers and then glances down at himself, shaking his head slightly. "Fell off my horse. I'm trying to get better on horseback when I'm not practicing with my sword. I'm not as much of a natural at it, admittedly," he admits and starts to retreat a little, rising to his feet again and thumbing at the injury a little. Wincing, despite his attempt not to, he goes back in the direction he'd been. Picking a spot not /quite/ so far away, instead opting to sit a bit closer to Cochonnet, looking a little concerned for her, but deciding that she maybe doesn't want to dwell on the fete, he goes on, "I was jumping a bit of fallen debris on the trail, and sort of just," he makes a little gesture with his hand, "Kept going while the horse was landing."
"You look like you could use one yourself, instead of me," Cochonnet whispers, but her whisper is only in tone, not in volume, easily keeping Sylvie within the loop of the conversation even as her voice just wants to slip through her vocal cords without them trying too hard to restrain it. Breath on the water. She listens to the story of the jump and the fall like one would listen to a sage speak a parable. Everything touches everything, today, and her eyelashes, already dewy with steam, are doubly dewy now. "That sounds rough. But you're up and about. Did you get someone to look at it and make sure there weren't any breaks or whatnot?"
Selecting an oiled blend of rosemary and peppermint oils, she adds a few drops to the water around her then sinks down to her chin with a satisfied sigh. Voices carry and Sylvie's ears perk at Yves' comment regarding his need for improved horsemanship. She had seen the bruise on the young man's side in passing, his explanation to Cochonnet is met with a small shake of Sylvie's head. Too new, and not invested enough yet in her current bathing partners to volunteer help regarding his seat and riding. Sylvie instead sits with her eyes closed, letting the conversation between the two drift over her.
"It's a rib if it's broken, what are they going to do? Make me lay in a bed all day, it's not like you can immobilize a rib like an arm, right? Anyway, it doesn't feel sharp or stabbing," Yves explains and tests himself a little again, prodding at his side at the most sensitive spots. "Just sore here, and then maybe a little like line of tension around my torso," he explains and indicates a band that'd be running with his ribs. He probably /should/ see an expert of some sort. He looks over at Sylvie then and asks, "What brings you to Marsilikos?"
"I mean, they could try to make you," Cochonnet answers. "But I have a feeling they'd have tough luck at it at any rate." She's getting sucked back into it, slowly but surely, the banter, all the points of innuendo she's passed completely on so far. It's like muscle memory in her brain, now, even if those particular muscles are about as sore as the band of tension around Yves' middle. So she's going to quiet herself again with a slow nod to his exposition of the wound. Then he's getting more data about Sylvania, and Cochonnet actually shifts her legs, turning in the water and bringing up her arms to drape on the edge, resting her cheek on her forearm and letting her legs drift out behind her. She's quite tall, and it might just have occasion for her toes to find their way to Yves. Again. The gleaming orchid bright on her back. Her day bright eyes for Sylvie, just now.
Realizing that a portion of conversation has drifted her way, the young woman sits upright; water sliding off of her skin and a few errant strands of hair cling to her neck."We were just returning from business in Caerdicci Unitas when my father fell ill; he is currently recuperating at the Temple of Eisheth." Sylvie floats a little closer to the pair, volunteering the next bit, "While we are here, I am hoping to find a new mount or two for myself before we return home to Kusheth." Cerulean eyes look at Yves and the girl offers agreement to Cochonnet's suggestion about having a physician assess the injury. "You're right my lord in that your injury may be nothing, but broken bones are not the only concern with a bruise that large." She pauses, eyebrows raised as she inquires to Yves, "Is there no Master of the Horse available here to assist with your horsemanship?" Sylvie's dark eyes slides from Yves to Cochonnet, meeting and holding her gaze indicating she is also including the courtesan in that last inquiry.
"They could /try/," Yves confirms with a smile, like he'd like the diversion from the unpleasant feeling along his side, like a fight would be an improvement. Looking down at himself, he waves off the additional concern. Idly when one of Cochonnet's feet comes near, he idly reaches out for her, but doesn't make any real concerted effort. "A new mount or two. Well, I'd normally advise a few people with a good eye for horses, but the one that comes to mind has left town recently. Master of the horse? I'm not that bad at it, it's just one bad spill," he mentions.
Cochonnet lets her foot bump dumbly against Yves' hand— or, rather, 'lets' puts a little too much agency into it. It happens to bump, there, and she doesn't retract it, her foot only sort of bobs in the water midway down. Meanwhile, this would be the perfect occasion to drop a joke about fucking horses — about which skill, indeed, she has more book learning and practical experience than MOST PEOPLE — but they're just flitting around trying to wear her out, and she closes her eyes, instead, swiping her fingertip over her eyelashes and looking like she might nap there on the edge of the tub.
"My apologies then my lord, " Sylvie replies and a hint of a smirk flavors her tone, "I'm sure you realize then it was your seat being too forward on your jump that aided your fall. " Bare shoulders roll easily in a shrug and for a moment she glances down as if to examine her nails and finishes the thought sweetly, "It must have been a misstep then of your mount to have caused you to come off unjustly so." As expected to anyone familiar with the Shahrazai household, the young woman is a competent equestrian. For now, she operates under the assumption this is common knowledge here in Marsilikos as it is in Kusheth. Seeing that Cochonnet has given in to the sway of the pool's relaxing waters, Sylvie drops the conversation further with Yves. Instead, a courtier's smile is offered with a nod of her head to them both as she glides back to the edge of the pool and exits the water. Picking up a towel to languidly dry herself off, she unabashedly saunters back to the dressing room, calling out as she leaves,"Best of luck with your side then my lord, it was a pleasure meeting you both!"
"I mean, I don't know about all that," Yves says, honestly. "Have a pleasant day," he calls after her. Hands on Coco's foot, and in the least erotic manner possible, he just rubs the foot that has been given to his trust, and watches Cochonnet float without bothering her further.