Even Mountains May Fall (Kalierre, Open)

[Aftershock]

Cainith sat on the floor of the infirmary, trying to hide the shattered remains of the cot behind his considerable bulk from any passer-bys. He should have realized such a frail construction of cloth and sticks wouldn't bear his 480+ pounds of weight, but he wasn't thinking straight when he arrived in the infirmary, having been ordered to go by the headwoman after his friendly wrestling match in the Candidate barracks. The silly old woman would not listen to him when he said he was perfectly fine, just a few minor cuts and bruises... it wasn't HIS fault that most people would be beaten half to death after challenging the entire barracks to try to take him down, and having fifteen Candidates all pile on him one or two at a time until they finally tangled his legs and bore him to the ground.

Grimacing in annoyance, he accidentally opened the just-closed split in his lower lip, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth yet again. Spitting the blood onto the floor in annoyance, he started as he remembered where he was, and shifted his bulk over to cover the spittle, twisting slightly in the process to attempt to bring the crushed remains of the cot with him, and ending up falling over himself in the process, flopping onto his stomach on the floor and feeling his cheeks go red in embarrasment.

[Requiem]

The brisk tapping of a cane tip striking the ground was enough to alert any of the apprentices that the dragon lady had vacated her office and was once again at large in the infirmary that she considered to be hers. Activity picked up. Everything was just so - and if it wasn't, it was quickly being stuffed under something else or hidden by bodies. It would be a lie to claim that the woman was a monstrous creature all the time. A lie indeed. But that did not make it any more pleasant for those who did incur her displeasure. And all had a pretty good idea what those things might be.

The scarred woman had a destination this time. From his customary perch on the head of her cane, the first of Selenitas' bronze salamandyrs commented, Lardass make earth quake, how big, how big? Scare buglet healerfixers. Indeed, it had been an apprentice who had ducked in to stammer about the giant of a man who'd broken one of their cots, earning an eyeroll from the woman. Along with a spark of curiosity. Thus she'd replaced the wine bottle in her cabinet, wiped out the glass, and gathered herself for an excursion out into the common room of the infirmary.

She arrived just in time to see his awkward roll. (This evoking a spitting reaction from Fury, the little guard salamandyr slashing her forelegs through the air in a warning to stay back.) Small moon, Lust commented, intrigued. Flippy floppy moon. Kalierre canted her head to one side, dark eyes watching the old candidate with amusement.

"Did you roll in here similarly?" She prodded the arm he'd used to gather in the splinters of the cot, figuring it wasn't hurt. "What are you about, breaking my furniture and scaring the little apprentices to come running to mommy? Who did you inherit all this mass from. A mountain?" Another prod was given to him. "Well, why are you here, then, apart from an apparent inability to somnambulate like a regular human being? I suppose all that weight would put a tremendous strain on the knees..."

[Aftershock]

Turning as he heard the tapping of the cane upon the ground, Cainith gave up trying to deal with the mess of splinters and cloth he had created and slowly heaved his bulk off the floor. As he straightened, his enormous frame dwarfing the crippled woman before him, he was impressed slightly when she she didn't show even a hint of fear in her eyes from seeing the man she herself described as a "mountain" tower over her.

"The headwoman sent me here after I lost a friendly wrestling match in the barracks," he rumbled, his voice showing the telltale accent of a Northerner. "I told her I was fine," he continued, "but the old wo... *ahem*... matron seemed to think that having fifteen candidates attacking me at once would give me injuries more subtle than the few you see on the surface. If you'll give me leave and vouch for me, I'll gladly excuse myself from your presence and get back to my duties." Brushing a few more splinters off the arm she had jabbed with her cane, the sleeveless tunic he favored for bouts of wrestling (as it gave opponents less to grab) showing off the massive amount of muscle beneath the fat, he added, "And I will do my best to build you a new cot to replace the one I crushed. I apologize for that."

[Requiem]

Hm. Taller than a S'rei and even that wisp of a wherhandler that seemed to be determined to outgrow the surrounding trees. Kalierre took a step back so as not to develop a crick in her neck to view his face. Runner breedmix. The salamandyr's two cents as to the man's parentage brought on a noticeably amused smile from the healer.

"Well, then," she commented needlessly as the man began to speak. He answered her question as to who might have beaten him before she could get it out. Kalierre looked the man up and down, noting some of the bruises and scrapes that the Headwoman had no doubt been blathering on about, as well as the split lip. Certainly didn't look like anything more than what boys often earned in their rough housings.

"A very polite mountain, too, aren't we? Where are you from?" she questioned curiously, tugging the hem of his shirt up with one hand to continue the visual inspection of the man. "Of course I shall expect you to keep your promise, and help clear up the mess if you're as hale as you claim," she added absently. "Can't really vouch for you and have you turn up bleeding out your various orifices. Would quite ruin my reputation, you know. I don't think I've ever seen a man your size before. Isn't that a wonder?"

[Aftershock]

As Kalierre lifted Cainith's shirt, revealing a belly that was round, but had very little sag, as if he were hiding a herdbeast flank under his skin, Cainith responded to her query with a, "Wasteland Weyr, though the Mining Crafthall before that." Wiping a bit of blood from the seeping split in his lip with the back of his right hand, he added, "I've met no one else my size, even in my homeland. My mother was a very unique woman, rest her soul."

As Kalierre continued to circle the man, he followed her progress as well as he could with his eyes, trying not to move too much and interrupt her observations and proddings. He was used to people inspecting him like a runnerbeast to be purchased, though this woman's observations seemed more clinical than most. "I'll clean up the mess, don't worry, and try to get you a new cot as soon as Candidate training allows me time to fabricate a new one," he continued as the healer slowly step-clicked her way around to his back.

[Requiem]

"Would take a hefty price to sustain a man of your size," Kalierre mused aloud, "else there might be more of you. Though likely not. A human body bears only so much mass gracefully." It was clear she was talking more to herself than the candidate she circled. "Large men are more susceptible to organ failure. Poor little things trying to do so much work. You seem healthy enough though."

His color was good at any rate and the bruises she prodded at showed no sign of internal damage, certainly. Little attention was given the comment about his mother save to note that she was dead. It was hardly an unusual circumstance for a northerner of his apparent age, to have lost his mother. "I spent some time at Benden myself before coming here in 3009. Which might be why they've stuck their noses in my business so little since you all decided to take this Weyr for yourselves."

Having completed her inspection, she peered up at him from under his arm, still behind him. "I don't suppose all of you is inordinately large?" No doubt the statement would not taken as it was intended, the woman's curiosity as to the size of organs and blood vessels being a most unusual curiosity indeed. (Nor was it an altogether uncommon thing for Kalierre to be wildly inappropriate even when working. It wasn't as if anyone was about who cared to call her out on it.)

[Aftershock]

Cainith shrugged at her comment about the Wasteland takeover of Selenitas, saying, "Benden was just another land, another place to stay. I don't miss it. I was glad when H'nes took me with him when he left. At least here I have another chance of Impressing, with the whers the South breeds, instead of being just another oddity to stare at and use."

At Kalierre's comment about his health, followed by her question about all of him being equally large, he bellowed with laughter, possibly startling some of the more nervous apprentices and patients in the usually quiet room. "I would be glad to show you, if you'd like," he grinned, while at the same time noticing he had re-split his lip yet again. "This thing is never going to heal at this rate," he thought to himself irritatedly, while turning and lifting his arm to give the limping woman a smirk from where she stood behind him.

[Requiem]

"Excellent, excellent," Kalierre responded animatedly, a bright grin transforming her face. "Maybe not right this second. I've paperwork to not get too behind on, after all. Should come by at night. Yes. Best time for a little pleasurable exploration." The woman dropped the man's shirt and straightened it with an almost motherly absent-mindedness.

If the dragonhealer noticed the smirk - and she was hardly so young or naive not to - it suited her better to ignore the relatively obvious miscommunication and take it as consent. "So then, what do you prefer? Full or local anesthetic? I'd suggest full myself unless you're considerably less squeamish than the average population...actually, at your size that would probably be best..."

The words trailed off into thoughts as Kalierre herded him toward the counter with her staff. "Down, down. I can't get a proper look at that lip when you're emulating a massive tree, now can I?" Rummaging through the drawers, the woman didn't bother with such things as personal space, merely nudging at him to move so she could get the drawers open. "So tell me about this H'nes. Do you know him well, then? I've only had dealings with Ja'kin."

[Aftershock]

Cainith, obviously still interpreting her interest as sexual in nature, replied to her question with, "Oh, we can start with some 'local anesthetic', then move to 'full anesthetic' when the mood is right." "I wonder why she calls it 'anesthetic'. What an odd name for sex. Well, either way, she'll probably just run away when the time comes like the rest..."

Allowing himself to be herded, he lowered himself to a kneel, bringing his head down to her level in the process. "Ath ah thed, ih wath nathing," he slurred as she tried to hold his mouth and lips still as she inspected the split. As she got in close, he took the opportunity to look her up and down. "Quite good looking," he thought to himself, "Though her attitude could use some work. Ah whuder ith tha limph ith her leghsh or hiyer hup? Doesth eveyting schtill wark dawn sther?" Noticing her look, he realized he accidentally let his thoughts get away from him and said the last two sentences out loud... though still slurred. He cleared his throat slightly in embarrasment, and changed the subject by slurring, "Ah bahrley shkno H'nesh. He neethded musthle far hish shjurneh frum Behdeh, sho he tooh meh."

[Requiem]

He apparently hadn't noticed Kalierre's squinting when he chose to make full and local anesthetic suggestive phrases. That didn't even really make much sense, given that anesthetic was to produce numbness, an absence of feeling, which was kind of the opposite...but oh well. (She figured she'd just lure him to the infirmary and have M'ta whip up some good strong sedative to mix into his tea. She'd have to specify runner sedative though or it was likely to only make him mildly sleepy.)

Prodding at his lip, she decided it wasn't so bad as it looked. He just refused to stop using it. Apparently even when she was holding his face and he was almost incomprehensible. Kalierre forget to let go of his face at his next words, eyeing him rather coolly. "Well, I can see why you might be considered when muscle is needed. Apparently he wasn't looking for brains as well."

Releasing his lip, she tapped his shoulder to indicate he could tower over her again if he so desired. "Hip, by the way. If you're that curious about it you can ask around, see just how well things work down there." Sniffing pointedly, she gestured toward the infirmary entrance. "You are free now. Though don't forget our deal; you'll have to pay a visit here shortly to fulfill your end."

[Aftershock]

Cainith raised an eyebrow at the comment about his apparent lack of brains, but said nothing. After all, it was what most people assumed, and if they expected less of him for it, better for him. He had an advantage over those who thought less of his intellect.

As the woman released his lip and indicated he could leave with a clean bill of health, Cainith responded, "Thank you. Perhaps this will make the headwoman leave me alone next time this happens." Returning to his previous place and kneeling down to collect all the wood splinters into the cloth of the destroyed cot, he said, "I will return within a sevenday with a new cot, do not worry... and perhaps something else you might be interested in," he finished with a wink, though inside he was quite uninterested due to the woman's attitude. She probably just wanted to study it's size to write in her journal, he thought, though outwardly he gave her another leering grin to keep up appearances. The remains of the smashed cot held in one hand like a bindle, he gave another wink to Kalierre before excusing himself from the infirmary.