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Post by glamourie on Sept 9, 2008 11:23:23 GMT -5
Ka'rys raised an eyebrow as the greenrider slipped off after Rawign and he exhaled, as soon as she was out of sight. His face twisted into a vivid display of agitation, all the anger he'd felt at her for daring to let her dragon end up in the state she was in - what was wrong with her - bubbling to the surface briefly before he blanked his features again. He did not appear to register Jessereth's snoring outwardly, though much of that came from the storm of negative emotions flaring through him. He did not like Benden riders as a rule. Born and bred a Fort rider, it was in his nature to perceive them as the enemy, and the long-winded and nearly insulting quality the greenrider took was born amusing and irritating; hence his refusal to listen to her for more than a few moments and asking for short answers. If he wanted stories he'd ask for stories. Answers were meant to be curt, condensed, and to the point. He silently hoped that Z'hin understood that, too, as the brownrider was riding the coat tails of the transfer, and unfortunately for Z'hin, Ka'rys's temper did not still very easily. Once he was annoyed he stayed that way for a good while.
"I never assumed you were dead," he replied quietly, emphasizing you without explanation. Ka'rys had assumed Jessereth was killed and that Z'hin was a slave somewhere. Not exactly an outlandish assumption, in his opinion, but he figured that his ideas were not entirely wanted, and he did not give voice to them. They were... morbid ideas, thoughts, and a normal individual would probably be upset by how coldly Ka'rys had regarded Z'hin being gone. The same lack of emotion was offered with his return. Unlike the departing healer, Ka'rys was not Z'hin's friend, and he honestly did not care what sort of emotional trauma the brownrider had endured. All he cared about was an explanation, a story, the truth. However, unlike with Dorava, Ka'rys did not feel the need to launch into a loyalty tirade. He was a Selenitas rider; he didn't need to hear it. Ka'rys tended to trust the riders that were at Selenitas - for the most part, anyway. "But yes - I am sure you will be bombarded with questions on where you were, how you've been, what happened, whether or not you're okay, and all the same for Jessereth. The condensed version, if you please; I've had my fill of stories for the day and my patience is thin enough as it is."
The dark-haired healer offered Z'hin a half-grin as he turned to leave; he was privately reassured by the fact that Z'hin seemed... so... normal. The lack of emotional duress kept him calm. If Kalierre had let him out of her sight he must not have been hurt at all, and he trusted Z'hin was able to hold his own against Ka'rys in a mudslinging match. He was bigger, after all. Ka'rys was definitely on the small side, and anyway, Z'hin usually got along with people well, as far as Rawign knew. Except for Marra. Marra managed to get on most everyone's nerves, though. It was a talent of hers.
Evidently, a talent shared by the greenrider. Rawign shot her a look as she caught up with him and nodded slightly in greeting, before launching into an explanation, "If you're going to be helping Kalierre, you need to stay out of her way, and keep your emotions in check. I know what the Weyrleader told you and I also know that he's no healer. If you get in the way, you'll be kicked out of the infirmary by one of us, no questions asked. You'll probably get stuck helping prepare supplies for the most part because that is a lot less difficult than actually dealing with patients - including the winged kind. For future reference, though, you might be careful how many insults you sling about Benden's dragonhealers. Kalierre's the resident here, but she was trained there, and you'd do well to treat her with respect." He paused, then looked down. "She's saved a lot of lives, dragon and human alike - more than most of the healers here. Don't step on her toes. It will earn you no fans." It was a warning, as far as Rawign was concerned, and he did not bother to hide the slight annoyance in his voice. "Do you have any infirmary experience, be it boiling numbweed or things of that nature?"
Stumpy curled tightly against Rawign's neck, and Roxie chirruped musically to Dorava by way of greeting. Li, on the other hand, curled up as though to make a nest of Rawign's long black waves, and made himself most comfortable. The three firelizards were typically Rawign's companions, so he did not notice that they were cluttering so closely. He also did not move to explain their presence in any way. It never occurred to him to find them odd. Instead, he continued with, "I don't know how much Kali will let you do, but I recommend listening to her without complaint or protest. She might be kind of touchy but she's really the best at what she does, and she doesn't do anything half-way. Don't argue with her. I don't want to have to clean your guts up off the floor if she loses her temper on you because you're not doing what she told you. It's bad enough I'm worried I'll have to clean up Ka'rys's for him ordering you to do this."
Ciceroth crooned to Phremath, and when she came closer, he leaned over to nudge her affectionately. When it came to people (and dragons) that he liked, he tended to be very, very physical. Nudging, touching, rubbing, he did it all, and more than once he'd gotten funny responses for it -- which he did not object to at all. He did not respond verbally, though, instead curling up slightly as though to make himself as small as he could, save for his spread wings. He was trying to make himself as small as Phremath happened to be, which was comical in its own right, as he was not a small dragon, by any means. But that did not stop Ciceroth from curling up and trying his best.
"I'd like that," Kalerary exclaimed to Phremath, forgetting that K'lir was there at all. At least, until something climbed up her leg. Then she froze, perhaps thankfully, as she did not hear K'lir and Phremath's conversation. Her eyes went very wide.
K'lir turned to Phremath, oblivious to Kalerary's expression. He stepped forward toward the green and leaned forward toward her, "I'm not really afraid of you, Phremath, I'm just teasing you. But you did sit on me - when you were very, very small. It didn't hurt. It was before Calistoth hatched." He thought it was a good explanation and he stretched one hand out as though to pat her - but fell short, in case she didn't want him touching her. "I'm not really mad. I found it funny. I used the same tactic when Calistoth was very small; sit on her to keep her from doing anything inappropriate. She used to call me funny names. You don't need to apologize. I deserved it anyway. I was giving my brother trouble and generally in a foul mood." He started to explain the situation more when he noticed Kalerary, and actually turned to look at her. "What's wrong with you?"
"There is a thing on me," the little girl said very seriously as her gaze fell to her legs. A small shape moved up her pant leg, then under her shirt, making her wiggle rapidly, before Showoff climbed out the top of her collar, triumphant. She squinted as the bronze salamandyr climbed onto her head and proceeded to start displaying at Phremath. "Your salamanananandyr tickles!"
Is mine, is mine! Showoff proclaimed, staking his claim early. This human spawn was his perch and he dared anyone else to come near her. (Apparently, he'd grown tired of sulking near Calistoth. The green bored him anyway.) Displaying quite brilliantly, he bounced around, just waiting for the overgrown green thing to get in his way. Oh, he would make her pay, he would. He could so take her. She was built like him - little wings and all - but she was green. He would not be outdone by an overgrown salamandyr with a missing frill! Overgrown wannabe flying-dunghead! Shame mandyr! Shame!
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Post by reqqy on Sept 10, 2008 11:08:57 GMT -5
The brownrider's eyes narrowed briefly at the look that suddenly came over Ka'rys's face, and, for just a moment, the man's general good humor seemed to settle into something wholly...other. That subtly self-possessed twist to his lips returned almost immediately, however, and it probably would have seemed far stranger if he hadn't noticed nor reacted to the revile that had slashed the Weyrleader's face. Z'hin wasn't too impressed with Dorava, either, but he definitely didn't harbor that depth of emotion for the greenrider. Frankly, it was something of a waste of effort to feel that much of anything for a woman he hardly knew, even if the state of her dragon was enough to make him seriously wonder if slapping her around a bit might shake some sense into her flighty skull. Then again, he wasn't saddled with the chore of finding something for her to do that wouldn't risk the rest of the people she came into contact with, either. The brownrider briefly wondered if they should issue a warning to the effect that all sharp objects must be safely stored out of reach when Dorava was in the vicinity. No, Z'hin wasn't much impressed with her intelligence, and wouldn't put it past her to accidentally stab herself or someone else. Nor would he put it past anyone else to give in to temptation...
At Ka'rys's statement, Z'hin merely shrugged a shoulder. No, he wasn't comfortable with the thought that Jessereth could have been...But, truly, it was a rational enough presumption, and the man had never had trouble with brusque personality types. He tended to be rather blunt himself. The brownrider sighed and ran a hand along his jaw, not exactly sure how to keep this short and still...thorough enough as to avoid too many more questions. He'd rather be out of here and with all these cables off as soon as possible, before the muscles started spasming on him. Which they would after a twenty hour period, and he was quickly drawing up on that.
"All right. In brief. We went with Salenth and his search party, as you know...came out of between in the middle of an aerial battle. Both sides mistook us for the other. I'd say - half the wing was lost? Maybe more. Benden left, and those who couldn't surrendered, including Jessereth and myself." He paused, his voice having taken on a brusque, matter-of-fact tone, his face nearly completely inexpressive. His jaw twitched slightly before he continued. "Not sure what happened to everyone. Those with blues and greens - and browns or bronzes that were weak or seriously injured - were made into dragonless and enslaved. What few of us were left were forced into fighting wings under strict supervision. They didn't believe - or care - that any of us were Selenitas riders...I didn't bother trying to argue on that count. It's not like we're allies with Fort anyway.
"So we fought in our wing, day after day, and gradually the scrutiny lifted. I do what I have to, and Jessereth's vicious enough when motivated, so I suppose that helped. This morning Benden's special assault wing staged a raid. I'm not sure if you've heard anything about it here yet? They were formed to replace the group that originally attacked us - my weyrling class - a turn or so ago. Rumor has it they found High Reaches and took out some of the leadership there, too, but I have no details. I have no idea how they penetrated Fort. But they were out for blood, and everything was chaos, so Jessereth and I took advantage; we got out of there while we could. It shouldn't bring any repercussions here. We Betweened, so no one could have followed us, and I'm sure they still think we're Bendenites. Even if they don't, they have enough problems right now that they won't be worrying about a missing brownpair. Probably will assume we died in the raid, which is fine by me."
In the infirmary, Kalierre was biting her lower lip lightly, her eyes narrowed. Now that she was seriously considering how to go about it, the woman was growing more and more irritated. This was a mess! It looked like it had always been a mess, but simply stitching them up wasn't going to work, and the healers had only made it worse by trying to do so. The dragonhealer made a snap decision, calling for hide - only supple, well-cured hide - to be brought. She then had it quite liberally dipped in numbweed so it wouldn't stiffen on her, either, and was less likely to irritate Aonith, then began the painstaking process of stitching the unsupported parts of the wing's membranes together with the hide as bracing, so it would be less likely to tear free, so long as Aonith was careful.
Despite the care she took with it, Kalierre had been suturing for well over a decade, and the first panel of membrane was finished before Dorava could arrive - which she was thankful for. More stitches were looped around the bone to secure the membrane in place where it could heal, and the dragonhealer began laying splints to keep that portion of the wing spread. "You're going to have to stay here until the membrane starts fusing together, because I'm not removing those splints before that and you won't be getting out the door with them spread. The good news is this will heal very quickly once it gets started, so long as you don't tear out the stitches, so I should be able to remove the splints in three to five days. We'll see how it goes after that, but the stitches themselves won't be removed for at least a month. It will probably be two months before you're allowed to fly on a restricted schedule. This is all an estimate, though...but I wouldn't expect things happening any sooner. We're going to have to be very careful with this one."
The green had no problem whatsoever with affection; she responded with a croon of her own, though she was somewhat bemused by his strange posture. Is that comfortable? she asked curiously. He looked like he was trying to scrunch himself really, really tight, like when Phremath had wanted to join Kalierre in the rider's portion of the weyr and was trying to fit through the door. (It hadn't worked, but it was a point of endless amusement for the dragonhealer, who reminded Phremath of the action enough that the green hadn't forgotten.)
Another croon was directed at Kalerary, her eyes swirling with contented blue and green until, of course, the statement of Calistoth's. She regarded him sadly. Poor thing, though his words were making her a little calmer. Phremath was glad she hadn't hurt him, even if she had made him small for a meatbag. I should not have, she stated seriously. Whether he found it funny or no, dragons shouldn't be sitting on people. Aren't meatbags supposed to sit on dragons? she asked, confused. That was why they were called riders. They rode.
Phremath, her attention momentarily shifting to Kale when Calistoth's rider's had, shied back a little at the jumping bean on Jessereth's hatchling's head. She was used to Lust, but Lust was not so...demonstrative. He was generally sedate so long as no one upset him by making the mistake of presuming they were more important. Or as long as he wasn't bored. Plus he wasn't KaliMine's, so it wouldn't be appropriate to threaten to eat him like she had Lust. Why was he upset with her, anyway? I'm not a 'mandyr, the green explained patiently, clearly nonplussed. I'm too big. Phremath elongated her neck and spread her small wings, crooning a quiet apology to Ciceroth when one brushed him, since he'd moved closer. See? You salamandyrs are very small.
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Post by dragon on Sept 11, 2008 21:28:34 GMT -5
Dorava listened intently to everything that Rawign said with interest. These were things that she needed to know, and would most certainly take into strong advice. When he asked about her infirmary experience, she could only shake her head sadly. "I have none, barring occasionally having been a patient for one reason or another. I was never allowed." Dorava said. "But I do have some experience cooking, so boiling things I can do. There are other things I know how to do that might be useful … I adapt easily and learn quickly."
She was momentarily distracted by Roxie, and glanced up at the flitter, before smiling slightly. She did not, however, speak to or reach toward the little creature. That could too easily be taken all wrong or worse yet … offend someone. And the flitter was included in the 'someone', there. If the creature chose to be more friendly, that would be nice, but Dorava knew better – from prior experience – than to mess with other people's flits. Much less while they were perched on their person.
Dorava nodded as she listened to Rawign's continued speech. She appreciated that he was bothering to tell her anything at all … forewarnings were a good thing, especially when it came to what to expect about people. "Thank you." She told him, carefully. "I will take all that into consideration, most assuredly. And if I do something …weird … just let me know, and I'll fix it pronto. I know how to take orders." She smiled slightly again, though she did wonder if Kalierre really would gut people just for annoying her. That was … a disturbing thought. Better double time the tippy toes around her, just in case. Kalierre was ultimate boss, check.
~~
Aonith stretched her head and neck out, resting her head on the ground near a wall as Kalierre worked on her wing. She couldn't feel most of it, now, and that was a really strange feeling. She could have moved it, but it would have taken immense amounts of concentration to do so, and would have elicited only a twitch in response. As it was, though, she left it entirely immobile as the healer stitched away on her wing. All she could feel were strange pulling sensations in the parts of her wing that weren't dead to the world, when slight tension was applied to pull the separated parts back together again. Completely relaxed and feeling peaceful, Aonith was tired enough from her journey here that she almost dozed off a few times. Only occasionally opening her eyes to watch people moving about around her with vague interest. She wanted to stay awake, despite her tired body. Hers was coming … and when interacting with people – especially new people that were more or less unknown – Aonith preferred to be alert and monitor how hers was getting along.
As the hides were added to the green's wing, Aonith started taking more interest, as she was starting to be able to feel the accumulative weight of them on her wing. That and this was something totally new … none of the healers before had done such things, and the actions in and of themselves interested her. Picking her head up again, Aonith watched curiously as the hides were applied to her wing, and then stitched to it. Interesting. Very interesting.
The green listened to Kalierre speak about her wing, and agreed with that assessment. There was no way she was getting out the doors with her wing stuck out like that … much less almost completely numb like that. Trying would do more damage than had originally been done! She almost tried to speak to Kali herself, before remembering – barely – that someone had said that Kali wouldn't hear her. So she spoke to Phremath instead. Please, tell yours I say thank you. And that I understand. Tell her I will be most careful. Thank you. Aonith said to the younger green. Aonith thought she rather liked Phremath, despite the little time she'd had to meet her.
When Dorava and Rawign arrived at the Infirmary, Aonith uttered a very quiet croon of greeting to hers. Dorava smiled up at the green, and touched her snout lightly with one hand before stepping up on Aonith's foreleg to take a peek at what was happening with the wing. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked, quietly of Kalierre, one hand resting on Aonith's neck.
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Post by glamourie on Sept 13, 2008 23:46:57 GMT -5
Ka'rys raised an eyebrow and turned over Z'hin's words in his mind. His eyes strayed to the brownrider's arm, then back to his face, a bemused expression coming over his face. True enough it had been a long time since he had any kind of contact with Fort, but he supposed it was possible. R'anatar seemed to think he was C'leon the second, much to Ka'rys's utter disgust. Of all the bronzeriders to idolize, he picked one of the most obnoxious and unworthy of living. He was turning Fort into another Benden, from the looks of Z'hin. The thought made him slightly nauseous. Two Bendens. Pern didn't even need one; they were a useless Weyr that did nothing but cause trouble. Ka'rys deliberately kept himself from staring, despite the temptation. Still, he couldn't help but ask, as though he thought that Z'hin might well know, "Since when does Fort do body enhancements?" After he asked, it occurred to him that the brownrider probably didn't know that information. Or if he did, that it would be an awkward question. Not that he cared. It was more curiosity based than anything else. They hadn't bothered with such things when he was there. So long ago, though. So long. If it was a possible advantage -- no. Not thinking about that. He forced that thought process out of his mind as best he could and considered the rest of what Z'hin said.
The problem was, he didn't know R'anatar. At all. He didn't know what the man would and wouldn't do, and the fact that he was ignorant made him uncomfortable. Z'hin believing that Fort wouldn't come after him was a mistake, in Ka'rys's opinion. Yes, he may have just been a brownrider, but if they gave him body enhancements, he must have been something useful to them - which meant he needed to be watched. Constantly. Ophelie would have a new job. She'd be thrilled.
"They will probably think you went to Benden, but I would not put it past Fort to have spies here at Selenitas - and once they notice you, that could be potentially problematic," he said softly, eyes flicking over Z'hin with a note of skepticism. "Your old weyr should be free; I don't think anyone's decided to snatch it up in your absence. I'll send word to you with news of what wing you're on after I talk to Shmee about your return. Until we see whether or not we're going to have a fighting wing thrown at us, I would prefer it if you laid low and did not do things to deliberately draw an unusual amount of attention to yourself. Fort does not need a reason to find out you're here - or to assume you may have divulged secrets to us that can be used against them." He rubbed the end of his nose before exhaling. "You might want to hunt down S'rei and let him know that you're alive and all right. He among others will doubtlessly be glad. You're free to go now."
Still squirming, and most effectively putting himself into a ball-like position, Ciceroth rumbled. Surprisingly enough, yes. I sleep like this. There was no small amount of amusement in the bronze's 'voice' as he replied to Phremath, his wings fluttering carefully. Spread out to the side, he vaguely looked like some sort of winged projectile - a giant, winged ball. He was fortunate that he could not see himself or he might have been embarrassed. Rysmine says I sleep on my head, and that is why I act so strangely. He might be right.
Flushing slightly in embarrassment, K'lir squinted at Phremath. "Well, yes, but not when you are babies. I sort of... threw myself on Calistoth when she was young; she continually reminds me of it when I have to keep her from acting out," he explained weakly before grabbing Showoff off of Kalerary's head. The bronze salamandyr let out an ear-piercing shriek and bit down on K'lir's hand, to little avail. He liked to bite whenever he didn't get his way but unfortunately for the little nuisance, K'lir was used to being chewed on. He curled his fingers gently around Showoff to keep from hurting him before frowning apologetically to Kalerary, who squinted at his hand. "Sorry 'bout him - he really likes attention, and negative attention is better than none at all, really."
The green's words to Showoff had K'lir flinching. He glanced over at Ciceroth as the bronze crooned, though it was muffled by his position, and then sighed. "Reasoning with him is not exactly the --"
Is mandyr! Is bad mandyr, shame! Shame! Bad! Overgrown giant. Bad mandyr. Shame. Seeming to feel this made his point, Showoff released his grip on K'lir and made himself comfortable in his humanpet's hands, oblivious to the bemused look Kalerary was offering him. As far as he was concerned, he had all that he wanted: he was completely the center of attention, after all. Even if it was negative attention, just as K'lir had said.
No experience. Shard it. Rawign resisted the urge to groan, instead going so far as to offer Dorava an encouraging smile - or what was meant to be one. The last thing they needed was someone under foot who didn't know what they were doing. Though, he supposed letting her handle the ones who came in with small scrapes and scratches, or papercuts, wouldn't be so off. If she made a mistake, then at least it was on someone who deserved it for coming in to the already-understaffed infirmary to bother them over something so blatantly trivial. A pretty thought, that - turnabout and all. Problem was, he knew if someone got actively hurt because of a mistake she made, Rawign would blame himself, and he would probably fixate until the person was well. He was a healer for a reason and even the annoying patients who deserved a good slap were treated decently most of the time. Fussed and grumbled at, true, but they still got the best care he could provide.
"Good to know," he replied sincerely as they reached the infirmary door. "Because you'll be getting them - whether you like it or not. Past these doors, you don't rank anyone. Remember that."
Without waiting for a response, Rawign pushed open the infirmary doors and bustled inside, moving from memory. His firelizards scattered and found their various perches, out of the way. Though most of them did not listen well, he'd Impressed them over a turn ago each, and he'd taught them not to dwell near him in the infirmary, whether he was on duty or not. He motioned for Dorava to follow him and moved around from memory. The infirmary's layout was such that the human patients were on one side, and the dragon patients on the other; it was to the dragon side he walked, calling out as he went. "Kali, I bring you a gree---"
Whatever else he was going to say was abruptly caught in his throat as he caught sight of Aonith for the first time. Then, without so much as a second thought, he turned and slapped Dorava upside the head, much the same way an older sibling would; scolding without being anywhere near painful. "No wonder everyone is mad at you. I had just heard a description - seeing it - wherrybrain." There was no real malice in his voice, though. Ka'rys - and probably Kali - had already given the woman a firm talking to. It wasn't his job or place to add to it. He squinted at her before turning back to Kalierre. "Ka'rys ordered Dorava here to help in the infirmary, and with anything relating to Aonith -- is there anything you want her to do?" The way he said want implied trust was what he meant. "She has no infirmary experience at all, but said she takes orders well." He didn't offer help. If Kalierre wanted his help, she'd tell him herself. Rawign was not about to tread on toes. The only times he'd seen her unhappy, it was when a dragon or Z'hin were in dangerous states. Rawign knew better than to push his luck too much and he was not about to risk the dragonhealer's temper.
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Post by reqqy on Sept 15, 2008 21:44:05 GMT -5
This was definitely going to be a weak point in his abridged version of his time in the north. He hadn't been back at Selenitas a full candlemark, and yet already two people had questioned it. Z'hin might have dispensed with the cables altogether, however they were useful - they'd saved his life a few times in the north, he was fairly certain - and he was loathe to go back to a state of relative weakness in time of war. He shrugged mildly. "They were doing these things when I was there, although...now that you mention it, that does seem a little strange. Maybe they had a better idea of who we were than I assumed." Left unspoken was the simple truth that if Fort somehow knew that this was Z'hin and Jessereth of Selenitas, they might indeed have found it useful to employ them against a mutual enemy, being more inclined to trust the brownpair to at least hate Benden. Thus the idea of strengthening the use of the brownrider's arm would make more sense.
He frowned mildly. It certainly wouldn't do to have Fort on his tail. There was no denying that the north changed a man, but Selenitas was still his home, insofar as a formerly holdeless man could claim any place as his.
Ka'rys must have been thinking primarily on the same lines. Z'hin's expression was carefully neutral, though he couldn't quite conceal the mild flicker of apprehension at the Weyrleader's mention of Fort spies. Might be problematic? There would definitely be issues if Fort learned of his presence here. After the fiasco some seven or eight turns ago with S'rei, defectors were even less well-loved, and R'anatar, while not as dangerous as D'loro had been, might be inclined to take a more hands-on approach. "Fort spies..." He shook his head. "We'll keep our heads down," he responded grimly. Oh yes, they most certainly would. It would be quite inconvenient for them for such 'problems' to arise, and he truly had no desire to endanger Selenitas. He decided not to mention the simple fact that the brownpair had proven themselves in the north - perhaps well enough that they might be more recognizable than the average transferring brownpair. No need to make Ka'rys more apprehensive than he already appeared.
Genuine surprise crossed Z'hin's face. S'rei? Alive, and at Selenitas? His eyes narrowed briefly. Oh, yes, it was apparent he still hadn't been fully trusted, if they hadn't seen fit to give him that particular bit of information when he was up north. "I just assumed he was dead," the brownrider stated, his voice chill. S'rei. The man who had abandoned them to Fort. Intentionally? It didn't really matter. If the bronzerider was alive...Z'hin definitely didn't feel any pressing need to ease S'rei's conscience. "With all due respect, I won't avoid him, but I'd rather not seek the man out. Since that seems to be all..."
Z'hin turned his back on Ka'rys, striding over to his brown and giving the dragon a hefty kick. Which of course Jessereth didn't feel at all. "Come on, lazy," he growled, in a foul temper after news of S'rei. He prodded at Jessereth's mind perhaps stronger than he should have, for the brown came awake with a snarl, instantly alert for any sign of threat. Z'hin reletented immediately. It's fine. We're safe. I just...want to get to our weyr and get these cables off. The brown regarded him for a long, hard moment, lifting from the mind of His all that the man wouldn't say. His eyes fell for a moment on Ciceroth's. All right. To the we- Kale. Jessereth growled, but capitulated. He'd rather hoped His would have forgotten about the hatchling...
Phremath was greatly amused at Ciceroth. He was not at all like some of the self-possessed bronzes she'd encountered, who insisted on talking down to her or ignoring her entirely because she was a green and - likely - deformed. Well, if it's comfortable, I see no reason why not to continue to do so, the green responded sagely. Even if it does make you strange. Strange isn't always bad.
The green merely regarded Calistoth's with a touch of confusion. She could not remember being a hatchling - though she knew she must have been, since all dragons seemed to be one at some point - therefore it was rather hard for her to understand that it ever wasn't normal to sit on a dragon. Phremath was small, but she could still have several sit on her and bear them comfortably. The antagonistic little hissing thing didn't help with the general state of uncertainty, either. She took another step back and tried to hide behind Ciceroth's bunched body, peering out at the salamandyr. Yes. Bad. I'm sorry, she agreed, woefully. Maybe he wouldn't be so upset if she apologized for...well, for being a dragon? She'd never understand these silly things.
She was genuinely glad to see Jessereth returning, crooning to the brown - though she didn't receive any acknowledgment whatsoever. His rider was on the ground and moving toward the adorable little hatchling at a swift pace, and he didn't look particularly happy. "Kale, we're going to our weyr now." Awwww. Does she have to? The brownrider glanced up at the green. "I'm afraid so. We're all tired." His voice never raised above the volume of normal conversation, but he certainly seemed twitchy. Phremath debated asking Jessereth, but the brown rarely spoke a word to her, so she decided to let it go, settling for nuzzling the hatchling - which required coming back out from behind Ciceroth. I will see you again, little one.
Although Phremath had never replied to Aonith directly, Kalierre glanced up with a tired, tight smile. Her green was loathe to make Hers more upset by being overly friendly, as the dragonhealer's mood was steadily worsening as she repaired every little bit of damage on this Benden transfer. "As long as we're on the same page. And you're welcome, although I'd do this for any dragon, so...no need for the gratitude."
Which was, of course, when Dorava showed up, although Kalierre's initial reaction was tempered somewhat at the sight of Rawign. Ah! Someone who actually knew his head from his arse and had several turns of healing experience to draw on. The woman pointedly glared at the greenrider as she approached and touched her dragon, the dragonhealer clearly not pleased with the action, though she said nothing against it. Kalierre understood the need to comfort your mindmate, well enough, but she didn't need Dorava getting in the way. In her opinion, the woman had already caused enough damage as it was.
It was rare for Phremath's rider to have to truly struggle with her temper, but right now she was right on the edge of tearing Dorava apart piece by piece. She hadn't spoken directly to the greenrider much at all, and thus far hadn't voiced her extreme displeasure. If it started, though, it would end either with Dorava becoming infuriated or in tears - likely both. Kalierre had a knack for finding just the right buttons to push people to the breaking point when she was going for the kill. Thus it was that she didn't utter a word until after the conversation between Rawign and Dorava came to a close, and even then it took her longer than normal to respond. "Let's see how well she takes orders." Her dark eyes fell on the greenrider unyieldingly. "You. Over in the corner. Stay out of my way, don't bother the apprentices, and if you must do something, you can clean up some of the spilled numbweed."
Kalierre turned her back on Dorava. "Rawign, if you would help me stitch up Aonith's wings? At this rate, I'll be at it for several more candlemarks. Normal suturing technique applies, but I want the membrane reinforced with rawhide...I'll do the splints and any parts of the membrane that has to be secured to the bones. Can you do that for me?" She regarded him solemnly, wanting his honest answer. If he couldn't manage, that was fine, though she could definitely use the help...
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Post by dragon on Sept 16, 2008 17:56:34 GMT -5
Dorava offered a slightly worried smile in return to Rawign's attempt at an encouraging smile. Oh, shards. What had she gotten herself into? This was looking to be spiraling back downhill again, just when she thought things might finally be looking up. People here sure were … irritable. And as much as she tried to smooth all that over, it seemed to only irritate the problem. What was she supposed to do, anyway? She almost thought that she might have been better off staying at Benden … at least then she'd known what to expect, and from whom. But then she remembered that not only had they come all too close to losing their lives at Benden – but also that Aonith sorely needed the care that she was finally getting. For Aonith, then. She'd figure these people out eventually. At least there were no blatant threats to their lives yet. Unpleasant attitudes, they could survive that.
Good to know … did that mean people were in the habit of not following orders? That might make life … interesting. Dorava stored that little bit of information away … knowing that people would act randomly despite perceived orders handed down … she'd have to keep a sharp eye out for those instances. Especially if she ever got back in the air, and was flying with these people's dragons.
Everyone outranked her … well … that was a given. She was not only a greenrider, but also a newly transferred one with a wounded dragon. Not much weight she had to sling around, there. But … even still … with that warning, it would be a general good idea to keep her head down.
She stopped dead in her tracks and blinked at the sudden abruptness of the slap to her head, and she turned to shoot a hot look at Rawign. It took her a moment, but she managed to make the look vanish, as she quelled the urge to utter some sort of ugly retort in his direction.
But she let it go, taking time to breathe for a moment. No harm done. It was not important to her what he thought. The gentle reinforcement in the back of her mind that was Aonith helped greatly in steadying her. Once the split moment of emotion was swallowed and put permanently in the past never to be brought up again, she managed to concentrate on his words. Which almost started the whole turmoil inside all over again. But words she could handle far better than physical assault. She was able to let it roll off her like water on freshly oiled dragonhide. Dorava also allowed Kalierre's glare to roll of without phasing her … she was starting to get used to people glaring at her with such hate. She had no power over her dragon's condition, didn't they understand that? She had never been allowed to learn even the basics in healing. And to hear Kalierre herself talk about the state of things, if she hadn't flown all the way to Selenitas, Aonith would have soon been dead due to blood poisoning from the infections in her hide. There was no winning with this lot, it seemed. And as such she made no comment – no point in provoking an already uncontrollable inferno of hatred. Becoming numb was never a pleasant sensation, but it did help keep Dorava's own temper in check. Striking people in a temper flare was not what she needed at this point.
But she was quite glad to see Aonith looking better … no more bulges, no more dangling wing edges … she was looking good. If a bit strange. Strange was okay … strange was going to help her heal and be good as new again.
Over in the corner?! What did she think she was, a wall ornament? She could do things … carry pails, tools, things that they could have trusted even a drudge with! She even knew how to sew … granted she'd never sewn flesh before – only hides and cloth. But … considering this was Aonith's wings they were dealing with, it was probably best to leave that to the pros. But … stand in the corner?! Dorava almost voiced a protest. But she managed to not even open her mouth. Instead she quietly went to the indicated corner, and leaned her back into it, crossing her arms over her chest. Some helping Aonith this was turning out to be. So much for learning something about healing. This was frighteningly similar to the treatment she'd gotten at Benden … go away and stay out of the way. Humph. She had hoped for a better place than Benden … not a clone! But Kalierre was clearly skilled, and she was working on Dorava's own. Best to listen to her, lest she decide to forgo healing Aonith. Just be calm. Aonith said to her, quietly in the back of her mind. No one can stay mad forever. That have to quit sometime … even if only in their sleep. the green said, sagely. She was used to the turmoil that went on inside Dorava's mind at such trying times … Aonith in fact had inherited a lot of it from Dorava over the turns. And between the two, they managed to keep their true selves hidden, out of sight, out of trouble, and away from other people's easily offendable feelings. Being possessed of a stubborn streak crossed with powerful will was a hard thing to hide when one was female.
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Post by glamourie on Sept 20, 2008 2:10:39 GMT -5
No, no. That sounded odd. Ka'rys squinted at Z'hin, but did not give voice to that thought. Perhaps - perhaps it was standard procedure in Fort since D'loro and Kamerai's deaths. That would make more sense than trusting a stranger. Fort did not function that way. They didn't help strangers, they didn't let outsiders in, it took a very long time to become one of them - unless things had changed so drastically that the place was no longer like his home and the concept sent his world topsy-turvy. He'd have to think about that at some other time - preferably after a few glasses of wine to numb the fact that it felt as though his heart was exploding in his chest. Very few things mattered very much in his life, but the idea of his home being turned into a Benden clone, complete with mechanical limbs and wires and cords did. He was adamantly against it. He did not want to believe his home was being destroyed. He just... didn't. His mind rejected the idea again and again.
"Good," he said quietly, and not without a measure of firmness in his voice. He didn't much care what Z'hin did so long as it did not endanger anyone at Selenitas, and for the most part if he kept his head down, laid low and otherwise avoided notice, there would be little danger. Hopefully.
He was surprised, however, at the response Z'hin offered to S'rei's name... and he almost pitied the other bronzerider. Seemed he had a talent for leaving others with a bad taste in their mouth, something Ka'rys could sympathize with. However, S'rei's relationship with other riders was little concern to him so long as his wing was not endangered. He fully intended for Z'hin to be on his own wing, where he could watch him closely, therefore there was little conflict to arise. Maelstrom and Blizzard didn't practice at the same times, after all. Still, he made a mental note to tell S'rei when he saw him that Z'hin was alive. Before S'rei saw Z'hin himself. It was the least he could do, though why he felt inclined to do anything considerate for the other bronzerider was anyone's guess. The two of them were far from friends, and Ka'rys did not trust S'rei any further than he could throw him. Sticky, sticky.
His gaze followed Z'hin as he left, and Ka'rys turned to take off on foot. Ciceroth was clearly too busy to be of any use. Sharding dragon.
The bronze, indeed, was quite happily curled up next to Phremath, though he uncurled slightly to nudge her in an attempt to reassure the little green. His gaze turned onto Showoff and his eyes whirled slightly, before he spoke softly, I know you, little nuisance; you are the one who steals things from Rysmine. You might try being nicer, or I might try telling him when next you sneak into our weyr. You are not half as soundless as you think you are. His words earned a slight hiss from Showoff, though the salamandyr relented and pointedly ignored Phremath and Ciceroth both. The bronze dragon snorted, then nudged the green lightly. He steals, that one. Rysmine's little pet finds him an irritant. They are often fighting. It is actually rather amusing to watch. And then he curled his head back against his body, right back into the ball-like shape. Shameless.
Kalerary looked up as Jessereth returned and happily bounced over toward him - stopping only when Z'hin met her part of the way there. Phremath's touch made her giggle and she smiled, turning to look at the green happily. "I hope so. Thank you for playing with me." She glanced over at K'lir, then added quietly, "Your little noise-maker's mean. You should work on that." Without waiting for a reply, she took Z'hin's hand and nodded. "I'm ready."
Muttering something sounding suspiciously like "I'll remember that," K'lir stalked off in the direction that Calistoth had went, doubtlessly eager to leave. While holding a conversation was pleasant enough, he did not like children, and he was surprisingly tired after just looking at Aonith. How Kalierre could deal with that sort of thing regularly was beyond him, because one day of it would have had K'lir writhing in agony just from sympathy pains. He was half-tempted to shake Dorava still. No, he wanted to go back to his weyr and pamper Calistoth and he knew the green would never object. Once he was out of range of Kalerary, though, he did release Showoff, who hissed at him and climbed onto his shoulder before shouting insults back at Ciceroth - though, as far away as he was, none of it likely could be heard. Not that that stopped him. He could so take the ugly bronze thing.
Rawign noticed the instinctive reaction Dorava offered, but he made no move to apologize. She deserved a bop in the head. It wasn't meant to be cruel. He was being honest with her and that was what she deserved, whether she could handle it or not. Kali's question made him nod, and he glanced over at Dorava before saying softly, "There's some spilled numbweed on the floor, if someone trips on it, that could be troublesome. Aonith's clearly in too bad of condition for you to be able to help much, but that would save us some time." He was trying to soften the sting of Kalierre's words, slightly, but he wouldn't go against her orders. Besides, he didn't normally work that shift, so he had no clue whether or not there were things needing to be done. Though, he supposed that if nothing else, they could put her on klah duty. That was always a good refresher in the early morning hours...
"Let me wash my hands," was his response to Kalierre, and he moved off quickly enough to do just that. He knew enough about applying stitches that it wasn't hard to translate it to dragon and he did have a minute amount of experience, although it was definitely not as severe as Aonith's wings were. Nevertheless, he was fairly sure he could handle it, and if he got uncomfortable he was not above asking for help. He washed his hands carefully, then moved back over to where Kalierre was taking care of Aonith's wings before retrieving a needlethorn. Carefully, he threaded it with the rawhide and glanced at Kalierre. "I don't see why I can't handle it." He looked up at Aonith before smiling weakly. It was still a little... odd... being around other people's dragons, and he couldn't help but mutter a quiet 'Hi' as he got to work. He didn't introduce himself, though. Hopefully her rider would do that for him.
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