Eying him and making him twitch... (Yummy stall

[dragon]

The Bronze flitter that she'd never before seen appeared, with the long awaited package. The creature chirred at Mandyr's sleeping form, and ignored the scurrying that was Val diving for cover to hide. He imperiously dropped the small package into Dorava's waiting, anticipating hands. She grinned from ear to ear, before the Bronze vanished to between again. This package was something long awaited! Never mind it was a tiny little box that was small enough to sit in the palm of her hand with plenty of room to spare. She couldn't hide it entirely inside her hand, but pretty close to it.

Now! Time to find the recepient to this long ago ordered gift... She spent the next few hours scouring the Weyr looking for him, starting in the infirmary. It was really odd to not find R'wign in the infirmary, and she was perplexed as to where else to look. Wandering all over the place with a sleeping flitter on one shoulder and a pensive mandyr sprawled out over her opposing ear, Dorava spent hours and hours wandering all over the place. Until finally, for lack of anywhere else to look and some curiousity, she wandered down to where the Gather was happening.

It had never occured to her to ask Aonith to ask Checkoth where R'wign was. Mostly because Dorava didn't really think of R'wign as a rider ... she thought of him as a healer!

And, wonder of wonder, in the last place she looked (naturally) she found him! Completely ignoring what it was the Healer was trying to peddle to poor, unsuspecting people, she sauntered up to the booth and promptly poked R'wign hard enough in the meat of his shoulder to get him to look at her.

As soon as he did, she leaned in really close to his face as if she had suddenly found something really truely facinating in his eye. After a split second of that, she grunted, and straightened again just as suddenly. Turning her back on the booth, she leaned on the edge of the table and fiddle with her little box. With narry a word to the suddenly assaulted brownrider.

"Well, darn." She told Val, who merely peeped with curiousity.

[glamourie]

R’wign was bored. Of course, bored was relative: he could have been trying to hustle anyone passing by into purchasing some of his tea and herbal scenting, but that required more effort than he was willing to put forth. As a result, he was sitting on his stool, his elbow propped up on one of the tables, and most efficiently falling asleep. His fire lizards surrounded the stall, acting as guards - anyone foolish enough to try and steal would find their fingers bleeding due to their bites, or worse. Meira wasn’t tending the stall primarily due to being on infirmary duty. So far he hadn’t made nearly enough, either: he wanted to buy supplies for the baby, and to do that, they needed to sell off more of their items. He’d gone out of his way to make a lot of stock… but so far no luck, more’s the pity. Of course, having a sleeping stall keep probably didn’t help boost their ratings any. He just couldn’t help it though. R’wign was bored with no one to talk to and/or flirt with. One would think that his mask would at least attract people’s attention, but so far, no luck. He blamed it on the fact that the Dancing didn’t start for another day or so. At least he had a full-fledged costume for it though. He’d look mostly disguised, if he could keep his fire lizards away. Hnn. His mind was drifting into sleep, visions of fire lizards in costumes dancing through his mind as he yawned and leaned over to the side… drifting, drifting…

And then he was poked. Blinking, R’wign lifted his head slowly, his fingers moving over his smooth, solid white mask. It covered the entire left side of his face, wrapping from the right side of his forehead down over his nose and then swiveling off over the left side of his jaw; the mask was secured underneath the loose hanging black curls of his hair, and it easily hid away that he was missing his entire left eye. His gaze turned to the person poking him, puzzled, and he cocked his head to the side before a bemused expression played over his face. Ellie fluttered up onto his shoulder, and R’wign ignored her to jut his chin up and regard Dorava with a puzzled expression; what in Faranth’s name was the woman doing, poking him that way? (And why was he not surprised to find it was her of all people? Kalierre made it clear she hated her, after all…)

“Um.”

Eloquence, thy name was R’wign. He stared blankly at Dorava for a moment before sitting up properly. One hand came up to brush his hair back, curls bobbling around his collar, before he settled for putting his hands on his knees and turning. If there was a look effectively embodying the concept of being perplexed, his expression would have been just that. Dorava wasn’t his friend. Nor his enemy, technically, but definitely not his friend. Maybe it was his northern blood talking but he found her behavior peculiar. That and she kept fingering some kind of box, and was totally ignoring him…? Generally when people walked up and poked him, it was because they wanted something. Or maybe she was just trying to be annoying. That was theoretically possible.

Ellie gave a quiet chirp of greeting and nuzzled R’wign’s cheek. Her gaze was quizzically focused on the greenrider, and R’wign lifted one hand to stroke his pet. Her wings flared at the attention and pleasant shades filled her eyes. Spoiled, she was.

“Can I, er, help you with something, Dorava?” he inquired, while resisting the urge to grab one of the bowls and clonk her over the head. Mean though it was, he was starting a nap. And he liked his naps. He was slowly getting back to sleeping properly and being robbed of that was annoying. Her suddenly leaning in close to his face made R’wign jerk back as if burnt and he scrunched his nose before hissing, “What are you playing at?” He didn’t like people that close to him without a good reason, and he was grouchy because of being woken up. He’d just started to dream, too, and the dream involved a certain Senior Weyrwoman and whipped cream. How dare she wake him up from that…

[dragon]

"Hm? What? Oh ... I was just ... goodmorning, R'wign!" She greeted, cheerfully, turning to look at the plainly sleepy looking brownrider. She grinned at him for a moment, before her gaze returned to the little box she was holding. "Selling much, yes? I bet you get raving hot sells, with that marketing there, yep yep." She teased, lightly, quite amused. "Thought I'd help ya out a bit..."

Shrugging her shoulders, Dorava got off of leaning on the table, and turned to face him again. Leaning her elbows on the table, she offered the tiny box to him with a small flourish. "I have a present for you." She said, quite seriously. "Unfortunately, I think it's the wrong color." she commented, with a slight down turn of her voice, making it evident that she really hadn't expected or wanted that.

"Since you were having such trouble and all. I had an idea, that reminded me of some things that I saw when I was a kid. My da used to make wooden ones for his runners, to keep bugs under control and what not. But I figured you wouldn't want a wooden one ... splinters and all that ... so I asked around until I found an alternative. Unfortunately ... it's runner brown." She shrugged, slightly, before dropping the little box into his hands.

Inside the box in a nest of felt, rested an eye. A glass eye. It was the right shape, the right size, and colored properly to be a human eye - not a runner eye. But the colored glass portion that was to represent the iris was definitely runner-eye brown. It was certainly an odd thing, to most people, to see what appeared to be a disembodied eye staring back at them out of a box.

Dorava shrugged again, somewhat worried that he might be offended. "I thought maybe it would help keep small fingers out of where they don't belong?" She offered. She really had been trying to help... and it had taken her forever to find a glass crafter who was both skilled enough and willing enough to try making an eye, of all things.

"Sorry about poking you like that, but you were ... well ... sleeping looking. And I wanted to see if it matched. It doesn't ... but ..." Again she shrugged, as if there was no other way to say whatever it was she was trying to say. "I can ask see if they can make another one?" It really shouldn't cost too much, now that the fellow had figured out how to make the first one. Though, having any kind of communication with people in the North was tricky business, regardless. Thankfully, Crafters were far less agressive than the Weyrs were.

[glamourie]

She was entirely too energetic. R’wign actually wanted to slap her. No matter what anyone said, cheer was insufferable in large doses, and Dorava qualified as a large dose. Perhaps his grouchiness stemmed more though from being woken up - no one enjoyed that, not even R’wign on his better days. He fixed Dorava with a look that most likely qualified as unpleasant. Though, in comparison to some the woman received, it was definitely mild. She dealt with Kalierre on a regular basis, after all, and no matter how twitchy he was, he couldn’t compare to her level of scary. Kali had the advantage of several turns on him… that and he was just too nice normally for most people to take his glares with any measure of seriousness. ‘Mostly harmless’ was a term often applied to him and it was painfully accurate. He was relatively harmless. While he could embarrass others, make them twitch in agitation, he was flat out incapable of real harm. When he became a healer, it was to help people, and he stood by that. R’wign didn’t hurt people because he wanted to save lives. He wasn’t even sure he could harm someone in his own defense. End result: he wasn’t taken seriously by many people, even with his most scalding glare, and that applied as much to himself as strangers. Even he wouldn’t have been intimidated by someone like himself. How could he expect others to be? Just the same, he glared harder. She was way too happy.

“My sales are fine,” he added testily, though the phrase ‘present’ perked his interest. He was odd about gifts. Only certain people could get away with giving him a “gift” and not annoy him. Nothing personal, he simply felt obligated to return the kindness, and he never knew what to buy. His head tilted to the side in curious fascination, despite himself. Why would Dorava want to give him anything? He was not her friend. Nor her enemy, of course, but ‘friend’ just wasn’t a term that applied. It seemed odd to buy gifts for someone who… wasn’t a friend. Was he her superior? Technically in the infirmary…? Odd, so odd. She was much older than him, too. R’wign crinkled his nose slightly as he rifled through the confusion in his mind. “Splinters…?”

His head dropped as she passed the box to him and he pulled the top off before blinking, and actually laughing outright. Another glass eye. She must not have noticed the blue one he sometimes wore… though he wasn’t ungrateful; another color was variety.

“The other one I have doesn’t match either. My eye color is very hard to match up; I’ve been told the shade of green is almost exclusive to my family,” he explained with a slight jut of his chin. Once, he was proud of that. But his eyes made him think of Religna, and her death, so far before her time, and that made him somewhat bitter. He hated looking in the mirror anymore, and more than once was tempted to tear his own eye out in rage. “I actually prefer them not matching. Thank you very much. Where and when did you get it…? The glass crafter at the last Gather didn’t have any kind of brown. They only could make blue ones, and said brown required too much pigment in the glass itself…” He lifted the glass eye in his fingers and turned it over absently. It was finely crafted, and reminded him strongly of the blue one. “I can’t believe you spent your marks on something for me though -- you didn’t have to… I mean, I’m grateful, but…”

But he didn’t wear his glass eye because it was uncomfortable. It came out periodically, and it just felt strange. The patch was less agitating, though the itching was close to unbearable at times. He supposed he’d have to make an effort to wear the brown one though out of respect for Dorava, just to be polite, but he usually only wore the glass eyes for special occasions where eye patches were inappropriate…

[dragon]

"Wooden eyes ... they can leave splinters that are a mess to try and remove." Dorava explained. "The ones that my da used to use on his runners were wooden. Every great now and again a runner would loose an eye ... accident, or thorn infection, or ... you know. And he'd poke a smooth wooden eye in there. To keep bugs out, mostly. You know a swarm of flies would be really, well ... annoying. And disgusting. So ... yeah. Anyway ... I didn't think you'd want a wooden one, so I asked around until I found someone who thought they could make one. And ... I told him my thoughts and apparently interpreted that to mean that I wanted it brown." She shrugged, hopelessly. "He apparently missed the color part ... musta got hung on the 'runner eye' idea. But it's definitely shaped for a human, not a runner." She gestured at it lightly, before trailing off.

"... oh." He already had one. Well ... dang. Why in the world didn't he use it, then, if he didn't like kids poking him? And ... well ... that sucked a lot of the wind out of her sails. So much for trying to be nice and doing something thoughful for someone. A copycat, he already had one, didn't need one ...

"I got it from ... from a glasscrafter. In the North." She said, quietly. Almost as if that was a bad thing. "He made it, special order. I got it just now, this morning. Soon as I got it, I came looking for you." Dorava clarified. "I ... I'm sorry. I mean ... this is awfully awkward, isn't it? I just ... I ... nevermind. I only wanted to help. And ... well ... I don't have anything more pressing to do with my marks, so ... " She shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Not only did it not match, but he also already had one ... she was such a horrible gift giver!!

Well ... at least he wasn't frowning at her like he had been, anymore.

[Requiem]

"I hope this isn't how you go about your duties when you both are on shift...sleeping and flirting."

Kalierre was, surprisingly, ever so good at sneaking up on people when she had a mind to, something her apprentices were all too painfully aware of. The dragonhealer had, in fact, been standing, quite unmoving, against the side of the stall since before Dorava arrived. She, also, had something for R'wign but, upon finding him asleep, had elected not to disturb him. The dark circles constantly under his eyes were indication enough that the young man who was as close to her equal in operative rank at the infirmary as anyone needed the sleep more than what she'd brought for him.

The woman's expression was wry, suggesting she was teasing. Maybe. Why had they not noticed her? Aside from being very good at melding into the background, Kalierre didn't much look like herself at the moment. The dark blonde, honeyed hair fell in thick waves, completely unfettered and laced here and there with flowers and strings of wooden beads, effectively covering about half of the scarred cheek. It made her look young. That, and the simple green dress showed off a figure usually hidden, concealing her twisted leg well enough in the skirts. She'd come to acquire a few things (and locate her weyrmate, but as yet hadn't found him) including the tastefully decorated cane now leaning beside her against the stall. It was pretty enough to suggest an accessory rather than a necessity. Not an item for working, but again, it helped disguise her injury otherwise, and that was the entire point.

Kalierre wasn't one to be overly sensitive about injuries, but sometimes she liked to move around without worrying about pitying glances. (Even if those looks were most likely entirely in her head.) Straightening, she left the cane behind for the moment, using the counter of the stall to aid her as she limped over to the two healers, glancing down at the glass eye curiously. An interesting gift it was. Thoughtful, in a way, though Kalierre herself wouldn't have much wanted a glass eye. Just as she usually dressed in ways that made it painfully clear she was a cripple. If she had to be uncomfortable, everyone else could be, too.

Pushing off from the stall, she came around to stand behind R'wign, using his shoulder for support. "Mornin, pet," she murmured silkily, her eyes lingering on Dorava as her lips quirked in amusement. Trying to unnerve the woman? Kalierre? Never! She ran a hand through his hair, adjusting it to fall over his shoulder and bare his neck to her, the woman not quite able to resist bending over and brushing her lips against it for the sheer shock factor. The greenrider was not naturally an affectionate person, and thus never engaged in such actions unless she...well, unless there was something to be gained from it. In this case Dorava's (and perhaps R'wign's, though she counted that last unlikely) unease.

"I've something for you as well, though I'm afraid it's not as useful." She reached down her bosom and extracted the studded collar (now quite warm), sliding the black leather piece around his neck where she fastened it snugly. "For being such a well-behaved - if rather forward - pet," the dragonhealer commented suggestively. Disguising the fatigue coming into her leg by borrowing R'wign as support for awhile longer, she glanced up at Dorava from her half-bent position, blowing the hair from her eyes.

"So, plan on enjoying yourself, greenrider?"

[glamourie]

R’wign smiled, patiently, and tilted his head to the side. Dorava was trying. He recognized, and respected, that she was trying to be considerate. Were it anyone else, he’d have been annoyed at them for not realizing that he already owned one glass eye (he’d worn it before), but she wasn’t anyone else, and he didn’t spend all that much time with the greenrider. Truthfully, she made him a bit uncomfortable. In some ways she reminded him of an over-eager child, anxious to learn, but she was older than he was, and there was something decidedly strange about trying to teach something – anything – to someone who exceeded him in age. That Dorava did not know very much about healing was unsurprising, but the eagerness she had for the subject in contrast was. She really did seem to want to know and he respected that, he did – but she made him feel awkward just the same. He’d never have turned her away, but… He was unsure of how to respond to the woman. He just was. Though, he was flattered that she cared enough to try and ease his discomfort. It wasn’t as though she was obligated to do anything for him in any way. He certainly didn’t expect anything of her… but R’wign expected almost nothing of anyone.

“Why are you apologizing?” R’wign inquired, looking at the glass eye absently. “You shouldn’t apologize for trying to do something kind for someone else. That doesn’t make very much sense. I like it; I do. Thank you. I’ll probably wea—”

His words cut off in his throat as Kalierre’s voice came from somewhere beside him, and his flitters all chirruped at her – some more pleasantly than others. Stumpy actually squawked and went between in terror. R’wign ignored him; Stumpy always vanished at the mere sight of Kalierre, because Lust frightened him horribly. R’wign turned completely to get a look at the other healer and actually arched an eyebrow in surprise. Normally, Kali didn’t dress up – especially lately. Actually he couldn’t think of a time when she did bother (though that could’ve been due to him being distracted most of the time). It struck him as unusual and he couldn’t help but smirk – even though the look was just begging to be smacked off his face and he knew it. Her words made it hard not to do so though. She was just asking to be sassed, surely she knew that?

“I’m sure you know exactly what I do while on duty,” he replied, voice sugary and altogether far too innocent for the smirk that accompanied his words. Her actions mimicked the suggestiveness of his words and R’wign didn’t bother to hide the amusement that melted over his face; he leaned his head to the side just slightly, to allow her better access to his neck (obviously enjoying the attention). However, one hand did come up to toy with the collar, examining it with the pads of his fingers as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “You had it down the front of your shirt.” There was a definite edge of laughter in those words – perhaps he found it too amusing to be considered proper? “Such a good mistress, rewarding your clown. Remind me to show you my costume for the dance later on. I think you’ll get quite a kick out of it…”

His gaze flicked to Dorava, measuring. Was the show for her benefit or his? If it was his, Kali was pretty much wasting her time; he was very hard to put out, as no doubt she knew. Hmm. The thought was brushed away as he let his eyes sweep over her outfit, before settling back on her face. “All dressed up – dare I flatter myself into thinking the fancy clothes are for my benefit?” He knew better. It was a Gather, she was dressed up for that, probably that Weyrmate of hers (he didn’t have a name in R’wign’s mind) as a secondary beneficiary. His nose crinkled, and he looked from Dorava to Kali and then back again before so eloquently asking, “Oh, have you two learned to play nicely together? How sweet. Kalierre is finally willing to share her toys?”

[dragon]

Dorava opened her mouth for a moment, and then shut it again as Kalierre suddenly turned up on the scene. She went slightly pale around the edges, before somewhat regaining her color again in a remarkable hurry. In total silence, she observed the strange play going on between Kalierre and R'wign, without a single comment. Finally, she cleared her throat and shifted her weight to her other foot.

What in Faranth's name was she supposed to do? Blantant shows of affection didn't bother her. Neither did the flirting. It was normal life, in a Weyr. What bothered her was who this was. For one, she hadn't been aware that the two were sweet on each other even a little bit, and two, they were both her superiors. Both of them. It made the whole thing rather awkward, at best.

Val, however, chirped from his perch. Val want, keeeeeep yesno. Keep. Prettyshiney, give. He remarked, excersizing the vast majority of his still limited vocabulary. Apparently, he liked the collar and wanted it. And he seemed rather distressed that it was being given to R'wign instead. Dorava's face twisted up just a bit, and she covered the 'mandyr's head with a hand to make him shut up. Instead, it just made him squeak and start squirming, kicking forward in an effort to get out of her hand so he could see again.

"No, ma'am. I was just ... delivering something to R'wign. I'm not attending the gather." She answered. "I'll be headed back now." Her gaze returned to R'wign for a moment, before she tried to say something. Utterly failing, she heaved a short sigh. "You're welcome." She managed weakly, before turning and hurrying away from the stall, back to the infirmary.

What an awful day! The gift was redundant, the gift was the wrong color, and then to get caught away from the infirmary by Kalierre! How much worse could the day get??? And all stemming from an effort to be nice to people here. Talk about a swift kick in the nethers! How embarrassing...

Squirming free of her hand, Val turned around and stared back at the booth with the two healers in it. Pretty shiney! He called, cheerfully.

[Requiem]

Kalierre laughed at R'wign and playfully swatted him upside the head, just for being the little teasing lecher he was. Of all the healers who had come in and out of her infirmary, only he had the balls to actually...well, that was hardly something to be thought of here in the open air. She'd prove the winner of this contest yet, even if it took her a few turns to achieve that. But R'wign wasn't the only one who could be subtle. Kalierre didn't intend for him to come out in the lead, though she was half-convinced that it was the contest itself rather than the prospect of winning that so enthralled her.

"I have a dearth of free hands, so don't get too excited, healer." Not entirely true. She wasn't the sort to act without thinking the action through, such that having the collar down her shirt was most certainly deliberate. Even if she rather did have a lack of hands at present. "Your costume can't possibly best mine. I figure that no one will recognize me like this. Am I right?" Which indirectly answered his question, it did, giving him no room to maneuver further down that line of flirtation.

Glancing up at Dorava, she cocked a brow. What was with the sudden flight? Kalierre puzzled over that for a moment, but found she didn't really care enough to pursue it. "I suppose that answers your question. Really, you'd think I was a wild wher or something." The dragonhealer affected a long-suffering sigh. "I doubt anyone would miss her terribly at the infirmary," Kalierre added in complete seriousness. "Was she supposed to be on shift today or something? Really, I don't care if she attends, but...shards if I'm going to go after her and explain that. She likes to irritate me on general principle, I think."

And her hip really was acting up right about now, after several candlemarks of browsing the stalls and spending bits and pieces of the hoard she'd collected over her stay here. Though she still had thirty pieces she didn't know what to do with, and that, in reality, was why she was here.

Stepping around R'wign, she settled down into the dirt rather carelessly, in a ring of skirts, and, crossing her arms over his knees, set her chin down on her crossed arms and looked up at R'wign with a decidedly serious expression. "So. You are selling all these interesting herbal concoctions...that I have decided not to warn your patrons about simply because it amuses me. Of course you can't quit the infirmary, or no doubt you would pine away from want of seeing me." A small smirk. In truth, she was right. He couldn't quit. But that was because he was preparing for a child along with Meira, and possibly would be supporting all three of them. He couldn't manage that on just a dragonrider's pay (and she wasn't sure how his pay was effected by the fact that he couldn't fly on a wing).

"So I don't view your stall as competition with the infirmary, since you'd be competing against yourself. Call this an investment in that which amuses me." From her belt, she removed the coinpurse with its thirty marks and placed it on his thigh. And, truly, it was an investment in her amusement, as she found the prospect of R'wign's becoming a father highly amusing.

[glamourie]

Apparently, they were making Dorava feel awkward… at least, that would’ve been R’wign’s guess from her sudden throat clearing and the shifting of her weight back and forth. He resisted the urge to laugh, fixing the greenrider with a pleasant (if fake) smile. One hand came up to run the pads of his fingers over the studs on the collar and he tilted his chin down somewhat to try and get a look at his new ‘jewelry.’ All he could make out was a glint and black. Black leather, then? He’d have to try and find a reflective surface to see – he didn’t even own any in his weyr (R’wign was selective in that regard). Some other time though, when he wasn’t currently watching Dorava flee in what appeared to be terror. Was there something on his face? His hand instinctively went up to his nose, rubbing it, then he looked at his fingers. Nothing. Was she that much of a prude then? Somehow he doubted it, since she was a greenrider and that level of discomfort for the physical wouldn’t have survived as long as she had as any dragonrider. So what was it? Because Kali was involved? What, did she think that Kalierre was a statue? Come to think of it, she probably did. Kali certainly acted like it around her.

“Bye, then,” he said absently as his gaze followed Dorava’s retreating back. Her salamandyr was ignored. No way he was giving his gift up to one of the little menaces. Once the greenrider was out of sight, he turned back to his companion and quirked an eyebrow. “She’s not on shift unless she signed herself up specifically…” His voice trailed off and then he indicated the collar before smiling wryly, “I’ll assume whatever I want to about your motivations for shoving this down your shirt, thank you very much. I know just how good you can be with your hands. As for my costume, you might be surprised. While I don’t look nearly so edible in it – or so I’m told – I must confess, the entire thing is dedicated entirely to you.”

Except the colors. Kalierre hadn’t inspired him to pick pastels – he just thought they looked nice. But the clown suit was totally in dedication to their little… conversation… in her office. The only person who would understand it would be her, too, though plenty of people had compared R’wign to a clown before. He drummed his fingers on the top of the table, and then cocked his head to listen to the Dragonhealer without interrupting. The smirk on his face was telling. Her words just drew an unending amount of amusement from him. Herbal concoctions, rivaling the infirmary…? Obviously she had no idea what all he was selling, but he was more than happy to provide an explanation. The coin pouch made him look down and he put it on the table top before turning to look at Kalierre, one hand coming out to grab one of the vials.

“Loveweed, liquid form. A few drops can turn the person ingesting it on their head, climbing down everyone’s clothes. There’s edible form too.” He set the vial down before indicating the teas. “Various teas. I’ve got salamandyr sedatives in here too, and then just oil of various scents, and perfuming agents…” His eyes narrowed into slits, he smirked, and then he rested his elbows on his knees. “Generally mistresses don’t pay their pets, but I’m not going to turn away free marks if you’re convinced it’s a good idea to give me them, you know… but, on an unrelated subject – why is Dorava fleeing from you this time? Did you bite her head off again? Do I need to punish you for being bad?” Suggestive, who, R’wign?

[Requiem]

Kalierre didn't bother to hide her amusement at this conversation. There was certainly a reason she'd chosen R'wign - even before he'd taken on the duties of WeyrHealer - as her second. He was, of course, the only herbalist they had, and a sharding good one at that. But he was also, young though he was, probably the best healer they had in the infirmary right now when it came to functionality and sheer breadth of knowledge. Kalierre didn't mind admitting that, though she was technically senior and Healer Hall would always consider her as the better of the two (at least until enough turns had passed that the difference in their experience wasn't as important) there were plenty of instances where she trusted him more than herself. The dragonhealer hadn't dealt much with diseases, minor injuries and the like for several turns. He was also far more systematical than she was, and it taxed him much less to deal with the aggravations of human patients. Kali much preferred creatures of the draconic variety in that you didn't have to put on a front with them. That or unconscious patients. Her realm of expertise was...and always would be...emergency care and aggravated injury or illness. R'wign rounded her out very nicely in terms of skill and knowledge, and she wanted her infirmary to run as smoothly as possible.

Aside from that, they worked well together, and this was a must. In ways she had cultivated him - cultivated their relationship - into what she needed. But mostly they were just naturally compatible professionally. He was confident, but more than willing to follow her lead unless she was being completely unreasonable (at which point he wasn't at all afraid to speak up). The mutual respect was most certainly there. He was the personal face of the infirmary that she found so tiresome to don. More importantly, he relieved a good deal of the dragonhealer's stress, so she actually was rather concerned that he'd reached his own breaking point. To say that Kalierre wasn't a tad ashamed that she hadn't been able to help with his own burdens in return would be a lie. Only a tad, though, because returning to the infirmary any earlier would just have driven everyone crazy. Kalierre was not a nice person when forced to acknowledge that some things simply wouldn't heal. In short, R'wign helped keep her sane, because they could be themselves with each other and not have to worry.

All reasons that, when he came into her office throwing that collossal tantrum, she'd been more than just a little dismayed. (Fortunately, Kalierre was good at hiding such feelings, even from R'wign.) The prospect of trying to deal with the pressures of the infirmary without him indefinitely was nothing short of daunting. Of course, it might have been a little drastic to sleep with him to get him to stay. (That wasn't exactly what had happened, but it would be what it looked like if that little bit of information ever got out.) Still, she couldn't regret it. What was there to regret, really? The afternoon had turned from a distressing one into something rather - pleasant - and their relationship really hadn't changed at all. Neither Kalierre nor R'wign planned on it going anywhere. Just a game. Like all their other games that kept them from going mad from stress. Like this game. Too bad she doubted many people would understand that.

Certainly Dorava didn't.

A brow rose mildly at the descriptions of what he was selling. Loveweed. She nearly snorted. That was typical of him, now wasn't it. Although...the salamandyr sedatives weren't a bad idea at all. Plenty of people would probably want access to those. Torn between commenting on his wares and trying to wheedle more information out of him about this mysterious costume that had picqued her interest, his next question caught her off-guard. Looking up at him, she actually gave herself away with a slight blush. Not at the suggestiveness of his words, of course, but because he'd nailed it on the head again. Like always. She hadn't meant to go off on Dorava, but the greenrider always irritated her terribly. No one had a right to compare Kalierre to the bastards at Benden. Least of all Dorava. The other greenrider seemed to forget that Kalierre had left Benden for a reason, too, and she'd had much more going for her at the time. She could have been running the infirmary there by now if she'd wanted to, though of course not openly.

And then she would never have Impressed Phremath.

Honestly, Dorava was far too sensitive. There was nothing wrong with a little brusqueness. And she was being nice too, at the time, which was probably what irked her most. What was the point if Dorava read nastiness behind every polite phrase? "No need," she commented drolly, lifting her shoulders slightly from her position at his feet. "A certain bronzerider beat you to it. Although...you wouldn't mind parting with some of that loveweed, would you? I owe him a present for throwing me around like a ragdoll in my own office." Slightly exaggerated? No, of course not...

Time to change the subject. "You'll have to show me this costume of yours, R'wign. Although I'd really like to know who it is who talks about your edibility. They probably should come to the infirmary to be treated for a fever," she teased, her eyes flashing with amusement. "Really, though, I think if you advertised those 'mandyr sedatives a little better, you'd get quite a few sales; those could be quite useful."

[glamourie]

“Bronzerider beat me to it?” R’wign inquired with a hint of serene curiosity to his voice; which bronzerider had gotten the jump on Kali? Not Rys – he’d have mentioned it (for reasons R’wign couldn’t understand, the Junior Weyrleader hated Kalierre; he strongly suspected it had to do with his blatant bias against Benden), so that left… R’aro, who R’wign was pretty sure just hid away from the world much of the time, T’rid who was too dense to ever manage to one-up Kali in anything (He’d have been in the infirmary, beaten up, if he tried anything), K’roi (did he have any function aside from being closer to Kaegan than R’wign was, so he hated him by default?), that Benden rider whose name he kept forgetting because he was too dumb to be remembered, and S’rei, aka the Chair-Throwing Former Weyrleader – as far as he knew. Maybe a weyrlingrider? Unlikely. Were there others? Hmm; no matter. “Do I need to kick someone for taking up my usual mantle of Kalierre-lecturer? I thought it was my job to keep you in line. I feel threatened now.” He didn’t, really. Whoever it was that managed to stop her from totally throttling Dorava had his thanks – for the past few sevendays, he just was not up to dealing with the infirmary stress. The Gather was making things better, but only slightly.

It would’ve been better, still, if someone had thought to make bubbly pies. What kind of Faranth-forsaken Gather existed where there were none? Had he stepped into one of his nightmares? When he noticed the lack of pies, R’wign threw a rather impressive tantrum. He needed those to live.

Reaching over to the bottles, R’wign grabbed up two of the loveweed ones and then held them out on his open palm for Kalierre. Little known fact: True loveweed actually grew in the Selenitas jungle, though it was quite a fair walk in, and most people didn’t venture that far due to the felines wandering around. Others couldn’t identify the plant, but the type that grew in the South was wild and thrived in shaded, damp areas, usually visible only beneath large boulders, or clusters of roots. He had to summon his courage up in order to wander in to get the loveweed to make it into liquid form (which required decocting). Felines were the one creature that he was truly phobic of and for good reason – the scars on his torso weren’t anything to laugh about. Even though they were old, they hadn’t faded at all, and he’d been lucky.

“One drop for every fifty pounds the person weighs. Make a rough estimate. Don’t go over ten drops no matter what you do, as it’s liable to become poisonous. Mix it with food to dilute the effects; straight liquid form is dangerous. It can be mixed with liquids too, but food itself is better,” he said, then leaned his elbows onto his knees. “I got bitten by Showoff and Merce both about ten times trying to test those sedatives. That bronze thinks I’m the second coming of a nightmare right about now. Works like a dream though, but K’lir threatened to stab me if I ever experimented on his salamandyr again. Apparently he was mad. They’re safe – you sure you don’t want one for Lust? He could probably use with a knock-me-out injection, though I don’t know how well you’d do at getting him to eat it or drink it.”

But that was another subject. R’wign dropped the topic of the costume – and deliberately dodged it, in fact, to eye the loveweed in his hand. “You know, it’s been tempting to douse you and Dorava with this stuff. It might make you chill out around her. What happened?” He wasn’t going to let that subject drop. “I was under the impression that you two were getting along slightly better, since apparently you said you’d take her on as a dragonhealing apprentice. Personally, I thought you’d cut your feet off at the ankles before doing, but she said you agreed, and when you came back you didn’t immediately pitch her out, so I can only assume she was being honest. Explain to me what she did not, maybe I can translate from Dorava to Kalierre…?”

[Requiem]

Kalierre bit back a laugh at the amount of concentration on R'wign's face. She'd let him guess at who she meant. Schooling her expression, the woman nodded in utter solemnity at his question, hunching her shoulders into a slouch to make her position more comfortable. Of course, ever since the siege the term 'comfortable' had become decidedly relative.

Making a show of pondering R'wign's offer, her fingers traced over her lower lip. "Mmm. It was rather forward of him, and in our office, too. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. I know! You should challenge him to a duel. We could sell tickets and make a fortune off everyone with a desire to see some blood spilled. Nothing like a fight to draw a good crowd. In one corner, bronzer. In the other...jar-chucking herbalist?" She wrinkled her nose at him, not bothering to hide her amusement any longer.

Kalierre listened to his explanation, though she already knew most of it, partly out of politeness and partly because it wouldn't hurt to verify that her knowledge was correct. She wouldn't want to accidentally poison S'rei to death, after all. Kalierre didn't have much against the man other than a lingering bitterness that went unspoken by both of them. How many...five or six? Somewhere around there. Such a big man, that bronzerider was (which was probably the only reason she hadn't chosen to drive him off with her cane. It was counterproductive to have her potential victim laughing at her as the thing bounced off him.)

She shook her head slightly at R'wign. "Drugging a creature I'm bonded to...is not the best of ideas." Kalierre left it at that. Lust didn't effect her all too terribly, but then, that might have something to do with the fact (one she'd noticed with some trepidation) that there really weren't two many discrepancies between her personality and that of the salamandyr. If that wasn't something of a humbling thought.

The dragonhealer shot a scowl at the young man, deftly plucking the loveweed from his hands as if that in some way would remove the temptation to use some on her and Dorava. "We are getting along better, relatively speaking. I just don't trust her and she can't seem to handle that fact. I'm not nice to anyone, so I don't know why she thinks she should receive special treatment. I was completely polite, too," Kalierre added dourly. Glancing down at her hands, her fingers curled around her 'purchase.' "She compared me to Benden," the dragonhealer added, her voice fading to a volume just above a whisper as she fiddled with the vegetation idly.

[glamourie]

“Another man was man-handling you in our office? Oh, now I’m offended,” R’wign said, putting just enough infliction into his voice to make someone who didn’t know him as well wonder whether or not he was sincere. Kalierre did know him, though, and quite well at that. She’d know he was joking, but people passing by the stalls might not. Her suggestion to challenge a bronzerider to a duel brought a wry smile to his face and R’wign stood up abruptly, hands on the side of the table, before pounding his fist down in a falsified show of anger. “A duel it shall be. I will grab a numbweed jar and when he is not looking, I will sneak upon him in all my stealthy glory, and I will break it over his head. My antics will be commemorated by healers everywhere as by far the most creative use of numbing agents and my victim, when you decide to turn over his name, will bear a throbbing headache… or perhaps a very numb skull. Either way, I am lethal!” He thrust one hand into the air triumphantly, and then flopped back onto his seat, his theatrical show through. Overly dramatic? Oh, doubtlessly, but R’wign thought it was worth it – and he was always quite flamboyant. Always.

His legs swung up to the chair, and he settled the heel of each one on the end of his seat. He crossed his legs at the ankles and rested his hands between his knees. The position might have been awkward, but it was comfortable. R’wign fixed his gaze on Kali’s, and clicked his tongue almost absently. It struck him as unusual that she was so adverse to drugging Lust (primarily because she always seemed to be scolding the salamandyr), but he didn’t question, or argue, with her statement. None of his business really. He could imagine drugging his firelizards, though really only one of them merited the treatment. Roxie was loud, obnoxious, and generally a handful. The problem was, she was also the only one liable to put up a fight at accepting anything suspicious from him. Sharding menace didn’t trust him at all. Not that he could blame her.

R’wign chose, wisely, not to comment on the subject of Lust. Instead, he looked over his objects for sale. He had a reason for offering the salamandyr sedatives: he didn’t feel right accepting ‘freebies’ from anyone. By proxy, he was determined to give Kali enough of his ‘products’ to earn the marks she gave him. Then it wasn’t free. Free was unacceptable. Was that an arrogant thought? It certainly had much to do with his pride – he hated accepting free things when he could earn marks just as well as anyone else… R’wign resisted the urge to frown. Her words were distracting him well enough from his wounded ego, which was good, since otherwise he probably would have begun to sulk. Not proper behavior for a Gather.

“You make it painfully obvious you don’t trust her,” R’wign admitted, glancing down at his nails. “I think she doesn’t like that you make her feel like she’s an exception and – what?”

His head cocked to the side, as he tried to reason out what Kalierre said. Benden? No… “You’re much more like Fort,” he said, and he meant it, though perhaps it was not a very kind comment. “You don’t have any tolerance for people who don’t prove their worth, but you’re moderately accepting of those who do, and you’re generally protective of those you claim as yours, but people have to bust their backsides to be accepted. That’s how Fort used to be, or so I’m told.” He’d worked with Fort extensively when he was at Healer Hall. “Though considering how often you ride Dorava, I can’t say as I fault her – you do have a tendency to be very critical of her. The woman looks at you wrong and you’re down her throat. Dare I ask what context she said that in?”

[Requiem]

It was...decidedly unladylike, and a very young sort of action, but Kalierre couldn't help herself. She giggled. Hand hovering before her mouth to stifle it and all. What he said didn't really have her giggling so much as the idea of R'wign challenging anyone to a duel and the fact that, undoubtedly, if he should ever be brought to do so...those tactics would likely be the ones he employed. Kalierre wasn't really sure where the brownrider's reluctance to fully engage came from - he was strong enough and intelligent enough to be a true force if he so chose, with just a little instruction (and he probably didn't even need it to be honest) - but she could guess. Healers did not, in general, do well with hurting other people or seeing them hurt. Not even Kalierre, strange as that might sound, but she was definitely more of a pragmatist in that respect. To her, some lives were more important than others, and it was all too easy to rationalize it. After all...if the person was in the business of hurting and killing other people, you prevented a lot more hurt and death by stopping them than by staying your hand. Yes?

"Are you finished now?" she commented with mock severity, pushing the hair from her eyes with one hand. The dragonhealer probably should have encouraged him, however, given the fact that she wasn't too fond of the direction in which the conversation had gone. Did they really have to talk about Dorava? There were plenty of more interesting people around, she was certain. Nor could she say she much liked to be lectured by someone so young (particularly given how long she'd known him) even if she had slept with him. The woman's ego talking? Oh, most definitely.

Kalierre sniffed pointedly at him. What was so wrong about making it obvious she didn't trust people? She was tired of putting up fronts, she was, and the infirmary was hers now. Outside it she still had to play some of those distasteful games. Every communication with Healer Hall was littered with meaning layered beneath meaning and polite niceties that were essentially worthless as far as their sincerity was concerned. The woman knew how to act, how to charm, how to politick...but it was her infirmary, and that should be the one place where she didn't have to act differently than she was. Dorava should feel flattered. Only her healers (and K'von) received Kalierre in her roughest, truest form. The fact that she was so open about how she felt about Dorava was indicative that the greenrider was being treated as one of hers.

R'wign's words ellicited a glare from the woman before her face fell into neutral planes. Fort? What, was this the 'let's insult Kalierre' sevenday or something? Fort? But as he continued she found that everything he was saying was true and she was forced to think about it...and admit that, yes, she was very northern in a lot of ways. She didn't consider that to be a bad thing, though; it was certainly better than always walking around with your head in the clouds and your arse exposed.

"Clearly you do," Kali retorted, her voice soft and utterly deadpan. She regarded R'wign through slitted eyes. She wasn't interested in talking about the context. It wasn't important, anyway. Dorava was calling her ma'am and she'd just commented off-hand that she'd really prefer that the greenrider speak her mind and stop hiding behind formalities, as this wasn't Benden - and then the girl gets up and tries to leave with that 'sometimes it feels like it' comment. Naturally Kalierre was annoyed.

"I don't see why there's any need to hide the fact that I don't trust her. At least she knows where she stands. She was at Benden a long time, R'wign. You don't do that by being as daft as she pretends to be. And I'd have to be a fool to think she's naturally so submissive, particularly after the siege. No, I don't trust her at all. I played that game far too long not to recognize it when I see it, and I don't intend to be caught flatfooted when she decides to make her move. Which she won't if she knows I'm still suspicious of her."

And...that more or less explained Kalierre's behavior to a tee. She really did respect R'wign a great deal if she was willing to explain herself - which she shouldn't have had to - but now she'd decided that she really didn't care to pursue this conversation any further. "I think I'm going to ferret out K'von before he goes on another mark-spending spree. If you'll excuse me..." Rising, she pushed the wrinkles from her skirt and began to hobble briskly past his table.