Xanadu Weyr - Waterfall Cave
Cleverly hidden behind the illusion of stone, a cave has formed at the base of the waterfall itself, large enough to host several individuals comfortably, or one person and a dragon. The walls are moist and textured, with small rivulets of water draining from the cave floor down into the pond beyond. Moving further back into the cave finds a dry floor and a smooth rear wall. Two sturdy camp chairs lean up against the back wall, along with a generous bedroll, wrapped in water-tight animal skins. A small bundle of firewood rests off of the floor on a makeshift stand, drying.
The roar of the falls is loud here, making conversation difficult from any range other than close, and the sheer volume of water makes it almost impossible to see through to the forest beyond. The only way out appears to be via the water, back the way you came.
Despite the hammerblows of the sun beyond, the cave's interior has remained delightfully cool, due to its permanant residence under the earth. To this, Tenebrous, hauling his tanned, bare backside out of the water, and padding over to his bag of linens. He's likely either bent over, or just starting to put a towel around himself when Phylicia enters, his face a sober mask and his eyes lost in t hought.
The respite from the heat is what has Phylicia emerging from the pool, figuring that swimming would feel a little better than climbing up the wall to the other entry way. As good as laying down in the sun felt, as soon as the droplets of moisture dried it started to become too much. And thankfully by the time she gets the hair out of her eyes and herself perched on the ledge, he should have that towel around his waist. It appears there's no over abundance of cheer at this moment from either of them, as she makes no move to stand up just yet. Sitting is good.
Tenebrous is quiet for several moments before pulling on a lighter pair of pants over his loins, making sure to keep the towel in place until all is well and covered. Then it's neatly draped over a chair, apparantely un-needed for his still dripping hair and torso. "We'll leave early tomorrow morning, possibly around one or two in the morning. I'd rather make the majority of the trip in the cool, if I can," he murmurs, his voice even. "That way, we can take our time with your leg without worrying about stroke."
Phylicia finallys hoists herself the rest of the way out of the water, then twists so she can get her knees underneath herself. Hoping her mentor doesn't have eyes in the back of his head as he's putting his pants on she forces herself to stand, putting most of the stress of the action on her right leg. "I guess it means an early night then." She comments, her tone as level as his even as she tries her best not to sigh. "Would you pass me a towel, please?" Because she hasn't moved from her spot, which is clear from the small puddle forming at her feet. And that sigh she was trying not to voice escapes her lips finally, any pretense of not being in a Mood dropped. "I could start back by myself…" She puts out, not wanting to keep him from reporting.
Tenebrous rolls his eyes, turning and bending down for the linen bag. A moment later, he's moving towards her and offering her said towel. "I'd be a sad excuse for…anything if I let you hobble back to Xanadu on a bum leg in the middle of the night." He purses his lips. "I don't exactly relish the thought of him coming here, but if you 're not sure you could make the trip, you could ask M'nol about flying his Brown to the Clearing where my garden is. It's open air, and he could probably land without difficulty. That would save you at least half of the trip."
Phylicia scrubs at her hair first, so it doesn't continue to drip down her back quite so badly before she wicks the moisture off her arms and torso bending over carefully to then do her legs. "I can manage." She responds crisply, looking up at him through her lashes before her tone of voice catches up with her brain and she looks back down, staring intently at the towel as she continues to pat herself to a drier state of being. "I'll just need to borrow the numbweed, please…" Her voice comes softly this time.
Tenebrous eyes her for just a moment longer, remembering the time HE needed the numbweed. But then, she can actually reach her owie. He turns away a moment later, moving to his private bag. One of his own pots, self-filled, is rummaged around for and he walks it back over to Phylicia, holding it out wordlessly.
Phylicia might be walking around with a limp, but at least that limp will be because she can't feel her hip rather than cringing every time she takes a step. Feeling that she's as dry as she'll get for the moment, she drapes the damp towel over her right shoulder, and starts to hike up the skirt to her swimsuit to reveal a truely hideous looking bruise that spans her upper thigh and trails up onto her hip. Yes, she really kissed that rock. And for a moment she moves as if to take the numbweed pot before she pauses, realizing that while she may be able to reach it just fine, another set of hands always makes it easier. So instead she contents herself to hold the skirt out of the way, though part of the bruise does pass under the side of the bottoms. "If… you wouldn't mind, Ten. Could you?" Her voice is still soft. She knows she should apologize for her tone, but the ornery part of her really doesn't feel like it.
Dear Penthouse…I never thought this would happen to me…
Tenebrous looks from that numbweed pot to the wound on Phylicia's leg before whistling slowly. "Well, I'll say this…you don't do anything half-way, do you?" He shakes his head. "You should consider the Dragon, Phylicia. That's going to hurt like nothing else in another day or so…" Her request has him looking back up into her eyes with a slight brow of surprise before he shrugs once and gestures to her bedroll. "Go lay down on your side. This works better without gravity, and you won't want to be on two feet when the best of this hits you."
The acknowledgement of Phylicia's bruise doesn't exactly make the girl look too happily at her mentor, though she manages to keep her mouth shut for the moment. On her way to her bedroll, she rests the towel on her shoulder near the one that Ten used, before picking up a drier one to take with her. Her skin and hair may be somewhat dry, but her suit would make the bedroll soggy in little time. But she's trying not to limp the entire time she does this. It seems like it already hurts like nothing else, which is part of the reason her mood is likely so sour. She lays the towel down on stone, before laying on her right side, and lifting the skirt back up, her head propped up on a hand as she lets another sigh go. "I don't want to bring more people or dragons here than are needed." She says, trying to curtail the surliness of her tone. "I can walk if I can't feel my hip."
Tenebrous pads over to his satchel again while Phylicia is setting herself, coming up with a small vial of some kind of oil. He loosens the top of the pot of numbweed salve before carefully dribbling some of the oil onto his hands and rubbing it in thoroughly. Then he's moving over to kneel down next to Phy's form, and bending at the waist to inspect her skin closely. He grunts once at something and then straightens again before dipping his fingertips into the pot and coming out with a small gobbet of the stuff. "You do what you feel you're able to do," he says briefly, not wanting to argue with her. Then he goes quiet again and, without ceremony, brings his hands to bear on her flesh. At first, his touch is light, spreading the pleasantly cool salve over her skin in an effort to cover it. But once that's done, his technique changes. A quiet tug at the waistband of her swimming suit has him murmuring, "This would be easier if you weren't wearing these." BUt it's a foregone thing. Fingers slip up and under the bottom edge of her suit on that hip, starting to work the salve in several inches above the bruise itself, and then slowly, methodically, beginning to work his way down.
Phylicia lifts her head off her hand as she finally shows enough interest momentarily to watch him rub the oil into his hands. Even with his touch as light as it is, as he passes over the actual bruise her jaw clenches around a soft whimper until the numbweed finally starts to sink in and numb the flesh. "I don't want to pull 'Nol away from his duties…" She half-mumbles before her head shakes, still watching him. "Sorry, that's as good as it gets." Her tone is a little closer to normal that time, or at least she's not quite as surly as she addresses the 'issue' of her bottoms. "What're you doing?" It's not an accusitory tone, but one more of one just wanting to know as his fingers change their tactics on her limp leg as she's still vaguely twisted around to watch. And that has to start getting uncomfortable about now.
Tenebrous's mouth twitches. "Yes, Phylicia, I'm quite aware." This to the comment about her NOT removing her pants. His strokes take him all over that portion of her thigh, and in a moment, his hands have become exceptionally warm, not only from the friction, but from the numbweed as well. It's like little streaks of pleasant flame each time a fingertip touches skin before the sensation ebbs away into nothing. "I'm spreading the bruise out a little," he murmurs. "Working the blood through more of the issue. It encourages new blood to replace the old, and helps the bruise fade a little faster. And, as an aside, it'll make your thigh feel…well, not better, but less awful." From the top of her hip to just above her knee, he works her leg, never pressing very hard in one place, but applying global pressure in slow, sweeping motions.
Phylicia almost looks like she's ready to argue or at least smack him as - for a moment - only the first half of the message gets through. "You're /spreading/ it?" She asks with dismay, before her cheeks start to redden both from *ahem* not listening and her mentor's ministrations on her thigh. "Oh." Well, let's try listening, hmm? "Less awful is better." She murmurs as she continues to watch his fingers work on an area she can hardly feel. "Except for now my whole leg is going to look like I tried to take it off with a blunt object." … Isn't that exactly what happened?
Tenebrous's hands still for a moment over her skin and he eyes her. "Yeah. We're definetly taking you back to the Weyr," he says in a mild tone. Then he goes back to work on her leg, murmuring, "Relax. If anyone asks about your leg, you can just tell them that it's the price for not learning your lessons, and that I've taken wholly after Fraille." But that's said without any mirth in it, and a moment later, maybe even a moment sooner than he might have ordinarily, he finishes, or decides he's done. He stands abruptly and starts over to the mouth of the cave, and the water from the falls. He lays down on his belly, stretching his hands out, and begins to rinse.
Phylicia is at least feeling better enough where she isn't going to place the blame on anyone but herself, as much as the fact sticks to her uncomfortably. "No." She says, firmness creeping into her voice with a dab of stubbornness… or is that irritation? "If anyone asks the answer will be because I was clumsy and not paying enough attention to my footing." By now most of the moisture has crept from her suit into the towel, and she takes the time he's using to wash his hands to creep the few feet to her bedroll. "I'm not spreading such an ugly rumor." And that, is apparently that by the tone of her voice. There's likely silence for a few long moments before there's a rustle of blankets and she's laying on her own stomach, inside her bedroll. "I'm sorry I snapped, and thank you." She says with honesty, apparently over enough of her grump to thank him and apologize.
"Some people aren't accustomed to this, Phylicia. The simple truth of life here in the forest is that it can involve a body full of hurts." Tenebrous finishes with his hands a moment later, standing up and wiping them on his pants. "Some people just don't … do well with it. It's not something they adjust to." He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." He turns to look at her for a moment, his face a bit more introspective than it usually is, and murmurs, "You can relax for the rest of the afternoon," he murmurs. "No more lessons today." He starts towards the rockface that leads out. "I'm going to collect my things from outside," he murmurs. And then he's gone, vanishing into the stones.