Nobody Loves Me (Open)

[Rowana]

T'ke was in a very bad mood. He was hurt, sick, lonely, and miserable. As if breaking his leg in Phremath's flight wasn't enough, he had also come down with the illness that was running rampant throughout the Weyr. Lucky for him, it had only been a mild case. It was probably the only good luck he'd had in weeks. And it hadn't stopped him from humiliated himself in front of the whole infirmary while he was delirious.

It might not have been so bad being stuck in bed all the time, but no one ever visited him. Did they even care? He was beginning to think that if he had died of the plague or fallen to his death, no one would have noticed. I would notice, Garaeth pointed out pleasantly. T'ke rolled his eyes. At least being stuck inside meant Garaeth couldn't randomly cuddle him. It was so embarrassing.

Are you still mad at me? the blue asked shyly. T'ke sighed. No, I'm not made at you. He had been, for a while. If Garaeth hadn't decided to chase, he wouldn't have jumped off the cliff after Kalierre. And he had also been the one to drop him, half crazed, on the infirmary's doorstep. Though, he really should thank him for that. It had probably saved his life.

Do not be sad! It was amazing how quickly Garaeth could recover from gloom. T'ke could just see him lurking outside, eyes bright with some new delight. When you are well, we can fly again! Oh, joy. Just what he needed. More high places to fall from. T'ke leaned back and glared at the ceiling. Could life get any more depressing.

[Requiem]

"Please explain to me," Kalierre uttered in deceptively sugary tones, "why, when half my healers are bedridden, dead, or dying that we're spending our time treating hangnails? Oh! I know! The cure to the plague must be in those cuticles!" The dragonhealer snatched up the woman's hand, turning it this way and that way before her face. "Yes. Definitely. Now, dear, don't be afraid. It's for the greater good. I promise that I'll only remove the hand, and you can keep the arm above the wrist. Oh, those tears, they must be the tremendous joy you feel at being able to help out your fellow Selenitas weyrfolk. Such a brave young woman!"

Tiring of terrifying the whiny teenager half-to-death, she yanked the girl to her feet and gave her a swift boot in the rear, cursing at the pain it shot through her aching, battered hip. "Get out of here, before I decide that the broth needs hypochondriac to spice it up." Watching the girl retreat at record pace, Kalierre raised her voice to get one of the apprentice's attention. "Hey, Soluren! Anyone else in here who thinks their little ouchies are so important that they can't wait for the plague to die down?" Soluren shook his head and very wisely vanished into the nearest room to treat another plague victim.

The uneven tick of the cane across the stone floor preceded her to another of the rooms...this one somewhat removed from all those suffering from plague. He'd already gotten it once, yes, but there was no guarantees that meant a body couldn't get it again - though she hoped to Faranth that wasn't the case. The crippled dragonhealer's awkward gait was even more ungainly since the Flight, after she'd strained and battered it insufferably, and the ever-present pain was at a new high. Still she refused fellis. That, coupled with lack of sleep and the stress of running the infirmary more or less alone during a plague of all things, turned her face pale and drawn, the facial scars sticking out starkly.

Kalierre entered T'ke's room with a snarl, and jabbed her cane in his direction. "You, child, are a fool. A complete and utter fool to jump off a cliff after anyone. Are you mad?" She wasn't angry with him, though. No, she was angry at the man who should have restrained her. K'von. If this was his idea of getting back at her...when she caught up with him his hide was hers. "So then. Let's see the damage." Because she hadn't had a moment to breathe in order to check on him until now. Kalierre stalked awkwardly to the side of his cot, flung back the furs and glowered down at his leg. A clean break, just as they'd said, but it looked like the dressings hadn't been changed recently.

The dragonhealer sighed. "You do realize that everyone's going to forget you if you don't kick up a fuss? What with all the death and all." Her voice was utterly deadpan.

[Rowana]

T'ke gulped and resisted the urge to run. Not that he could run, but that would hardly stop him from trying. Kalierre was by far one of the scariest people he had ever met. She was worse than psychotic Bendan riders. At least they had the decently to kill him and get it over with. He had wondered how his day could get worse, and it had just walked in the door.

T'ke tried not to look like a scared rabbit, but failed completely. "Um..." What could he say? She was right, he was a fool. The number of times he should have died was racking up a little faster than he had ever wanted. He was lucky he hadn't landed on his head. True, he didn't actually remember jumping off the cliff, but even in flight lust, he was an idiot.

"I...uh..." Shards he sounded like a child! "Sorry," he managed meekly. "I don't really need..I mean..that is...if your busy..." It wasn't like he was sick anymore. As she had said, there was all too much death going around. Maybe he's get lucky and she really would leave him to mope in peace. It wasn't like anyone would care.

[Requiem]

"Oh, please." He looked like he was about ready to crawl inside himself to get away from her, if that was in any way physically possible. How ridiculous. "How long have you been a dragonrider? You seriously are going to have to grow a pair sometime soon...the enemy isn't going to stop just because you look terrified, child." Her words contained a note of bitterness, the woman tugging the furs all the way off of him. Good thing she still had that bag K'von had given her; it was awfully convenient now that she never had more than one hand free, at least while standing.

Kalierre waved aside his jumble of bumbling words with a perfunctory hand, settling onto the cot beside him and adjusting his leg over her lap for easy access. "Don't be ridiculous. Old bandages lead to infections, lead to fever and amputations, lead to death. So just because we're busy doesn't mean you shouldn't kick up a fuss. We had a brownrider in here for half a turn due to infection." No amputations necessary, though the most worrisome wound had been to the chest, so that was kind of impossible anyway. The woman deftly began cutting away the bandaging so she could remove the dressing, the scarred side of her face presented to T'ke.