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Post by dragon on Sept 12, 2009 22:24:20 GMT -5
She sat, silently, and almost motionlessly, on the edge of the ledge that dragons tended to land and take off from, at the infirmary. All the way off to one side, she was not in the way, her legs dangling over the edge as she leaned her elbows on knees and stared down past her toes.
It was good to be outside, again. But even so, Dorava could not help the tears that slowly trickled down her face to drip from her cheeks and fall past her toes. Somehow, she'd managed to get the sickness herself ... and it had knocked her clean out, off her feet. She supposed that had been a side effect of her working through the first stages of it, ignoring it in favor of taking care of others. She seemed to be recovering ... which was a minor miracle in and of itself...
But she was one of very, very few. The girl she'd been taking care of when she's knocked out ... she'd died not long after coming to the infirmary, taking her lovely little green weyrling with her. Dorava felt awful for that ... she should have been taking care of the young woman, not crashing across a table unconscious! But that wasn't the worst of it, either.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, while deliriously sick and out of touch with reality, Dorava had managed to lose her baby. Her very own baby was now gone, never to even be born now. It had shocked her, to be told that after she'd come coherent again ... and even now she didn't really believe it was so ... she had to keep touching her own self, to know it was so. Her baby was gone. And there was no getting it back, either. The feeling of loss was one that she had never guessed was possible...
Sitting beside her, and trying to be as much of a comfort as he could, Val was leaning on her thigh and watching her, paying no nevermind to the fact that he ... and he embarrassingly white behind ... were exposed and visible. Seated much like a miniature little canine, the mandyr leaned his shoulder on her leg, tail wrapped around his feet. Somewhere not far away, Aonith was also there, though more mentally and less physically. She felt she probably couldn't get away with sitting on that ledge, not with the traffic it was seeing. And she didn't want hers to leave the infirmary yet... she wasn't entirely well yet.
Mandyr, as usual, was sleeping through everything, curled into a little knot between Aonith's earknobs. The dragon had long since learned how to hold her head to not ditch her sleepy hat every time she moved, though she did wonder at the health of the little creature that spent so very much time asleep all the time.
Sniffing, Dorava rubbed at her cheek to be rid of yet another tear ... she knew she needed to give herself a swift kick in the rear to get going again ... but at the same time she didn't want to. She didn't know if it was because she was still very worn from the lingering remains of the illness, or if she was just wanting to wallow in misery some more over her own loss. Or worse yet, that she had abandoned the infirmary when it was already short on hands, and thus caused others to die...
It really made her wonder if she was cut out for it all. Should she even be pretending to be an apprentice Healer? She couldn't even keep her own baby alive, to be born!
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Post by rii on Sept 13, 2009 20:46:37 GMT -5
The epidemic had taken a toll on the Weyr, but the number of ill were becoming less and less. That was good news to the smith, who was unable to hold and maintain a negative point of view. He knew people were still dying from the plague, but he argued, things were getting better. The fact that he had not been required to move a dead body from the infirmary for a couple days had to be a good sign. Right?
Rulven blankly looked around the room, wishing someone would agree with him. He sat, slouched forward with chin planted on upturned palms. A dense gloom hung in the air, making people's faces stretch long with eyes full of weariness. Rulven was doing his best to help, to counter the dark mood, if not with manual labor, than with a friendly smile, a comforting hand; but others could not seem to find anything to smile about. Mostly the smith found himself staying out of everyone's way–his large frame made a better door than window, they scolded.
Hazel eyes fell to his feet, which had started tapping with restlessness. A walk with some fresh air would do him good. Stretch out the muscles and maybe clear his mind, free it of the heaviness that had started to weight down on his thoughts. The smith rocked up onto his sandaled feet and paced about until his striding lead him out onto the ledging. His gaze raised to the open skies to watch a blue sail by on outstretched wings. A smile touched his features until his line of sight fell on the woman seated at the edge. Call it intuition, empathy, or a lucky guess–but without seeing her face, Rulven knew she was crying. Perhaps it was the casual raise and wipe of her hand across cheek that gave it away. But a brother doesn't live with five sisters without being able to see the signs and become.. sympathetic.
Soft maybe be what others may call his behavior, but Rulven could not walk away from a crying female without trying to offer his condolence.
Casually Rulven approached, letting his steps fall normally so as to not spook her (he'd never forgive himself if he managed to spook her into slipping off the ledge she so precariously leaned over.) Choosing the side opposite of the salamandyr, Rulven sat next to the woman–but with enough space not to crowd or make her uncomfortable. For a moment he sat there in silence, letting his hazel eyes trace over the scenery before he dared a direct look at her face (people could be oddly prickly when caught crying). He.. sort of recognized her. Didn't know here name, but seen her around the infirmary.. or rather, she had been one of the sick ones. Other than her falling ill, Rulven knew nothing more.
"Hey." His greeting came softly, and the smile he shared was mild, meant to be friendly without becoming over-bearing. "Good to see you well. How are you feeling..?" Maybe a silly question to ask, considering her wet cheeks, but if she wanted to scorn him for being pointedly oblivious, he would take it with a smile. Rulven only wanted to help.
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Sept 13, 2009 21:07:33 GMT -5
Boots crunched the loose scree on the ledge and, though the step itself was light, the solid footsteps bore a heavier weight than most of the dragonriders here. Not too many topped two hundred pounds. Catlike, he settled down beside her, on the opposite side of the salamandyr so as not to frighten Val. Or, at least, he made the attempt not to startle the skittish mandyr. Whether it would work or not was anyone's guess. S'rei tucked his legs beneath him, comfortable in the position despite the quiet ache in his muscles after a day of scouting, terrain mapping and drill planning. It had been a long time since he'd seconded for the crack wing at Benden. A very long time. But some things you simply didn't forget, and how to use the capabilities of the dragons on your wing was one of those things.
Which was, in the end, why the man was here. Aonith was a vital member of his wing, and he'd have to readjust a lot of plans if Dorava wasn't up to the training...and the possibility of having to fight. Not that he was the sort to walk up to someone after they'd just recovered and learned that they'd lost a baby and outright say, "I heard you miscarried. Can you still be useful on the wing?" That was...a Ka'rys thing. S'rei didn't operate like that. Maybe he should, but he didn't.
What he did know? Shmee's first pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage, and it had shaken both of them, shaken their relationship, and she was barely functional for months afterwards. Even if Shmee was a particularly fragile sort of female...which was definitely true...S'rei wasn't a fragile sort. He knew how deeply it could effect you. For a moment he simply kept his silence, tugging off one of his gloves with his teeth. His knots still looped over one shoulder, bronzerider, Selenitas colors, wingleader. He didn't wear them usually when he was on personal business - this was a mixture of both, to be honest - but he hadn't returned to the weyr after working so they were still displayed.
"I just heard yesterday," he commented softly. And he hadn't known how to approach it immediately, thus the delay. S'rei didn't say that, though. He glanced over at Dorava. She looked terrible. He wasn't cruel enough to voice that, either. "This plague...has taken a lot. The Weyrleader. Weyrmates. Friends. Family. There's not a single person who isn't effected somehow." Tugging off his other glove, he shoved them both into the inside pocket of his riding jacket.
Snorting softly, then, a wry smile that wasn't at all happy or humorous touched his lips briefly. "Maybe Ka'rys is just rubbing off on me, but I can't help but think...if I was directing things in the north and Selenitas was still an area of interest...that now would be a good time to move. We need people to be strong right now more than ever. I need to know that every member of my wing, when we take to the skies, is there 100%. Everyone's important." He sought out her eyes, his own earnest and sober. "And if someone isn't...we can't risk them. Do you understand? This isn't an easy thing. No one will blame you if you need time. But because I'm here, now, asking you directly...if you tell me you can handle it, and we find out you can't...I'm holding you responsible for what happens. Because I gave you a chance."
The words were gentle. Firm enough, yes, that there was no doubt he meant them, but there was nothing of malice behind it. Nothing judgmental. He'd been there. And he'd take her word, too, because that was who he was. If she said that she could still function within his wing right now, he'd believe her. Until she proved otherwise to him.
But...the ground underneath him really just didn't feel right. Shifting slightly, a puzzled expression captured his face before he reached behind him and found...yes, a chest with a neck and face attached to it. S'rei turned his head and winced sympathetically. How had he managed not to notice someone sitting here? Someone as big as...this...kid...was? He flushed slightly. He had to be crushing the guy's legs. "I...shards, I really didn't see you here." Nor would he have said anything that direct to Dorava if he had. This was a mess. Clearly he needed more sleep. Salenth was practically roaring with laughter in his head.
Scooting off to one side, he attempted a smile at the man built more broadly than he. "Sorry about that."
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Post by dragon on Sept 13, 2009 22:01:35 GMT -5
Dorava rubbed her nose in an attempt to not audibly sniff to control her running nose. Why did tears always make her nose run? The effort was made because she could hear someone walking around, and didn't want to possibly upset them by sniffing. Some people simply got all disturbed when people sniffed. She was somewhat surprised, though, when he sat down next to her. Dorava looked over at him, but did not have the faintest idea who he was.
"Well." She repeated, quietly. "It's such a relative term." Dorava heaved a slow sigh, and stroked Val's spine with a finger. "I don't feel well at all ... er. I ... I mean, I'm getting better, but I'm not a hundred percent yet." Why bother try to explain to him what was kicking her harder than just having been sick? There probably wasn't any point to it at all, really. But before she could think about it much more or say anything else, there was the sound of someone else approaching ...
and also sitting down ...
Right on top of the lad that was already there?! Dorava just stared at S'rei with an 'O' for a mouth, stunned speechless by that very ...odd ... action. She almost missed what he was saying completely, as she stared at him openly. Apparently, she wasn't the only one having problems of late, if the Bronzer seriously thought that a young lad made a nice chair on the edge of a ledge?! Eventually, she managed to close her mouth again.
"Er." She stammered, blinking, glancing at the lad's face for a moment with concern, before looking at S'rei again. "Me?" She asked. Right now, she was more concerned for the poor lad, stout as he was. S'rei was no small man to suddenly have sitting on you!! And then, S'rei seemed to realize he was sitting on someone ... which made the whole situation even stranger and a lot ... odder ... and... well ... what by the first egg was really going on, anyway?! "Are ... are you okay?" She asked, not sure who, exactly, she was asking, specifically.
She was just so blown away by the whole thing, that she had totally missed that she should be answering S'rei's rather serious questions. All the while, in the back of her mind, Aonith was tittering just as hard as Salenth was, elsewhere. The green would prod her in a moment to answer those questions, but for now, she was having far too much fun giggling (dragon-like) at S'rei's strange behavior.
Well, there was one good thing of it all ... Dorava had been so shocked that she was no longer wallowing in her own depression and loss and self doubt. She was 100% in the present again, even if she was just staring at the two males beside her!
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Post by rii on Sept 13, 2009 23:05:59 GMT -5
The smile he gave became more genuine when Dorava didn't immediately snap his head off for bothering her. The smith never claimed to understand women, at times they were all sorts of irrationally strange and frightening. Just smile and nod, take it with a grain of salt, and be sure to guard eyes and loins. Ah, but Dorava, Rulven felt positive he could get along just fine with her.
Or would have..
Rulven's expression faltered, replaced by puzzlement when a large figure came up and sat down on his thighs. An occurrence that Rulven honestly could say had never happened to him before. The smith was a hard person to overlook. Impossible even, when given, not only his height, but his build. To ignore him would take effort, to be done on purpose. Utterly baffled by this, Rulven lips parted to protest the treatment but he couldn't find the words. 'Excuse me you are sitting in my lap' didn't illustrate half of Rulven's annoyance. Who was this man? Was he trying to make a point? Was it some strange dominance thing?
And then the blunt rudeness. Rulven's jaw firmed and he had to fight down the urge to shove the stranger off his lap and over the side of the ledge. The hesitation came when he took in the sight of knots on the man's shoulder: Bronzerider, Wingleader. Was this how the higher-ups treated candidates–to be ignored and sat on like chairs? Yes being a candidate put him at the bottom of the totem pole, but this was a tad over excessive and a bit literal of that comparison. Rulven's hands curled into fists, but he did little in retaliation but lean back. He was more offended by the man's coldness towards Dorava than the lack of acknowledgment toward himself. She had a miscarriage, how could he stand to treat her this way? She must have lost it while sick, no wonder she was so distraught.
Of a sudden a hand was pawing at his chest, then face. Rulven's expression darkened. Didn't see you here. Uh-huh. Right. And Thread was really spindles of sugar that rained down from the heavens. Faranth, did people think Rulven was that stupid? He knew he wasn't the brightest fellow, but.. honestly. Rulven features remained unfriendly as the stranger finally removed himself. Too irritated, the smith didn't take any notice of the apology, opting to not even look at the man.
But, a single look at Dorava instantly softened his expression. No point in staying mad, or starting a fight, the bronzer was none of his concern, really. Rulven had come out on the ledge for her. Mumbling a quick pardon, to Dorava, Rulven rose to his feet, absently rubbing his thigh as it began to tingle from the blood loss. The smith walked away without another word.. only to return shortly, sit on the other side of Dorava, and hand her a tissue for her running nose. He wouldn't leave her alone with the bronzer if the man's original greeting was a fore-warning of his attitude. Rulven didn't like seeing others get hurt.. and he kept his hands politely by his sides for the sake of wanting to keep his candidacy, little more..
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Sept 15, 2009 13:50:48 GMT -5
Salenth couldn't stop laughing. It was beginning to get irritating. You didn't even notice. I'm aware of that, Sal. He's only the size of a small boulder. Sal... So easy to overlook someone nearly your size. Sal. Is it chasing after four hatchlings half the day, heading up a wing again, or constantly playing with th- Sal! The bronze finally stopped, the equivalent of a draconic hiccup bubbling over their link. That's enough. I can't think straight when you're doing that. And this is unusual because...? the bronze added rebelliously, but he put a cap on his mirth. Now it was more like a chuckle than an outright roar. S'rei rolled his eyes.
Only then did he notice the smith had left. Sure you're not sitting on him again? The bronzerider ignored his mindmate. He must say though...he was a bit more comfortable now. The man shook his head, bemused at himself, a glance toward Dorava making it clear that she'd been quite distracted by his blunder. Apparently it had been too long since he'd mooned the Weyr. Time to make a fool of himself some other way. Oh well. Can't undo what was already done. At least it had probably taken her mind off her troubles, if only for a little bit. Outrageous actions tended to do that.
"Fine," S'rei murmured, rubbing at his stubbled jaw. "Apparently losing my mind, but...fine. Salenth's the brains behind the two of us anyway," he added lightly, trying to soften things with a little humor. Dorava didn't seem anything more than shocked, but the candidate, who had settled on the other side of her was glaring daggers. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked of Rulven, his tone incredulous. "If it happens again (I'd like to say it won't, but since it did the first time) you have permission to clout me upside the head. Should notice you then." He flashed a smile. Not likely to do much good, but, eh...
Gotten too used to having men underneath you. Couldn't resist, could you? Nope, Salenth responded cheerily.
No one else seemed to be saying anything, so...he really couldn't just go back to what he'd started talking about. Awkward much? "Right then. Umm. When are they releasing you Dorava? Do you know?"
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Post by dragon on Sept 16, 2009 16:01:29 GMT -5
Val jumped and chirped in alarm when suddenly something massive was settling ... right next to him. With an alarmed squawk, he scrambled up onto Dorava's thigh, climbed her shirt, and plunged down through her neckline and into her breastband. There, he curled up and trembled a moment, before edging back upward to poke his front feet and paws out of her neckline. He flared his frill at Rulven, but did not even hiss. He was too scared.
Dorava ignored her mandyr entirely, quite accustomed to his mannerisms and shyness. She gratefully accepted the cloth from Rulven with a small smiling nod of thanks, and used it to dry her face before wadding it in one fist and giving S'rei another concerned look. He had certainly distracted her from her own grief alright ... and somewhat alarmed her, too. Sitting on a ledge was no place to enact such capers, if that was what it was. If it wasn't a joke, and he really honestly hadn't seen Rulven sitting there ... it made her worry about his sanity. Or vision, one.
"Ah ... No one said anything to me one way or another. My assumption is that I'm to return to my duties, now that I'm conscious and no longer delirious." She replied, simply, to his question. "I ..." she paused, remembering that he had asked her directly about such things already. "I can still pull my weight. I'll do my duties."
It was expected, after all. Grief or no grief, there was work to be done. And, beside that, what she likely needed was to bury herself in work. Take her mind off internal affairs. It wasn't like she had a personal life to sacrifice, anyway... if she were held off the wing or infirmary shifts for her sickness ... and loss ... she might well go completely crazy from having nothing but brooding to do. She could make the hack... if they'd let her.
That, and he was right ... if there ever was a time to attack, it was now... if they even knew about the state of the health of the Weyr... She rather expected the other Weyrs did, though ... they had spies everywhere. "Maybe we'll be ready, if it comes down to it."
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Post by rii on Sept 16, 2009 18:57:57 GMT -5
Rulven noticed first the scurrying creature fleeing him. A frown creased his features, and he looked apologetically at the small salamandyr. He wished he had some food with him to offer the shy thing, currently frilling at him. "Sorry," a very soft apology. "I didn't mean to scare you.." The smith almost offered his hand to the mandyr in hopes of showing he was harmless–that was until he realized the lizard was practically on Dorava's bosom–and that he was talking down at her chest. He had to talk down to her regardless, so probably not even noticeable, but Rulven didn't want to risk earning a slap.
The smith quickly lifted his gaze and felt relieved that the woman had her attention on the bronzerider. People, women in general, often didn't realize that it was a misunderstanding. He didn't mean to stare at that particular location. Rulven eased to lean back on his palms, no longer upset over being sat on–utterly incapable of holding and brandishing anger or a grudge. He gave the other man a brief glance upon hearing the words, the disarming smile from the other did erase any feelings of ill-content. No, he still didn't appreciate being sat on–but worse things had been done to the smith and he had forgiven those responsible.
"I didn't know what to say. Not every day someone mistakes me for a chair," He arched a brow at the other, the words holding no bite. Neutrality. "I was sort of baffled."
He'd be fine with the bronzerider, as long as the man didn't treat the woman in that cold manner. Rulven didn't care the reasons, and he also didn't care how tough a female may act. To him, they needed to be treated with the utmost respect and.. as women. His mindset, firmly planted in him, showed in the difference he treated S'rei and Dorava. Body language, expressions, tone of voice–of which now softened as he addressed the green rider. "You know, just because you are conscious doesn't mean you need to be booted back to duties like no one cares about what happened. Don't try to stand up to what you think is someone else's expectations."
He shot a stern look at S'rei, but didn't do anything more accusing than that. "There is nothing wrong with taking a break. We all have to do it sometime, or else we'll start to crack and eventually break. It's not weakness, it's practical. If you are going back to duties just to ignore it, it's only going to fester."
In a quieter tone, as an after thought and sounding embarrassed about it, the smith added. "I'm Rulven, by the way.."
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Requiem
Weyrleader S'rei WM M?ta Rider A'nd Harper/Handler Dmitri Weyrbrat Miguel
Posts: 2,861
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Post by Requiem on Sept 20, 2009 12:12:11 GMT -5
The sheepish smile was very much still in evidence at Rulven's comment. "First time for everything, I suppose." Like sitting on people randomly. S'rei didn't ever do that. Even on purpose. He was...well...big. People had a tendency to go 'squish.' Most inconvenient, that, because there would be a whole lot more chairs around for him to take advantage of if they didn't break. You're hopeless. What? Dragons sit on other dragons to establish the pecking order. Did you happen to notice you're not a dragon? Really? Lack of tail, lack of wings, far too small... Thought I was just special. Oh, you're special all right.
"Not for another few days, at the least. You look like death walking," S'rei responded brightly to Dorava's idea that she'd be back on duty right away. "You're sleeping. Even if you have to get a healer to give you something to knock you out. Sleep. Eat. Go to the beach and play in the waves or something. Run. Cut down trees. Whatever it is you do to blow off steam. You're not back on any rotations or at drills until you get some life back in you, that's the deal."
He met Rulven's glance squarely. The candidate was, in the end, a candidate about half S'rei's age. What right he thought he had to stick his nose into the business of S'rei's wing the man didn't know, but it was most definitely overstepping his bounds, even if the kid was doing it in defense of Dorava. The greenrider was from the north. For that clime, his approach was fairly mild, and his job wasn't to fix her. It was to make sure that all of his riders were operating at levels that didn't get the others killed. Because one person simply wasn't important in the grand scheme of things. One person couldn't be that important.
S'rei moved to stand. "I didn't realize you had company, Dorava. This conversation is more appropriate in private. When you feel ready to discuss how we're going to handle your return to the wing, have Aonith contact Salenth. Just in case I'm not in my office for whatever reason." Which he wasn't as much as perhaps he should be, but dragons were good communicators, and you could hardly blame a father of three who also had a nephew to take care of for not living out of his office.
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Post by dragon on Oct 13, 2009 21:02:44 GMT -5
Dorava inhaled like she was going to spit a protest a few times as the two males bickered over what she should do. Typical males. But in the end, she just blew out a sigh of defeat as S'rei's verdict came through. Nuts. Typical males. Think they can run everything. She scratched the side of her nose, and looked sideways at S'rei for a moment. Never noticing that Rulven was talking to her boobs. Or, at least, the mandyr hiding in her cleavage. Even if she had noticed, she likely wouldn't have cared much ... she'd been living with Valiant long enough to be used to his strange little capers.
"Alright." She agreed. "I'll do that, then, I guess. If you think that's best. But really ... the healers saw fit to let me go..." She offered, by was of one last, weak protest. Not that it was terribly genuine, either. A rest would be good ... if crazy-making. What would she dooooo??? There was nothing to do, if she was held out of her work. All she ever did was either drills, wing duties, or infirmary schedules. That or study, but she'd already exhausted all available study material, according to Kali.
"... I didn't realize I had company, either..." She admitted, looking over at Rulven. She offered a youth an appologetic smile, before turning her gaze back toward S'rei ... only to realize he was leaving. "...oh." She remarked, before looking at Rulven again ... just in time to witness Val giving a fearful, trembly little hiss at the youth.
She cupped a hand over the mandyr, cutting him off as she offered yet another apologetic smile. "Don't mind him. He's always shy and scared. Rather unusual, for a mandyr, really." She shrugged just a bit. "Which, really, is a whole sight better than most of them act." And she was glad for it, too. She didn't know if she could handle a rowdy, aggressive, scheming little beast. Having a scardypuss was far easier to deal with.
"Rulven?" She asked, having just been about to ask him what his name was. "Candidate, I presume?" He certainly didn't look the part of a weyrbrat ... too well built for having grown up that way. "I'm Dorava." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "That was S'rei. And this is Val." She poked at the lump that was Valiant.
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Post by rii on Oct 15, 2009 12:25:05 GMT -5
Rulven did not operate by the Weyr's system of hierarchy. It had not been fully instilled into his mindset as of yet, so the smith did not acknowledge that his show of protectiveness may have been out of line. He had grown up in his Uncle's smith, so he was use to dealing with people on a day-to-day basis and offering a polite smile to strangers. There he treated everyone as equals, not often that a lord holder or such strolled into the place–it was just the average, everyday person.
Oh good, the bronzer made it mandatory for Dorava to rest–silly woman, being so stubborn. She did look like hell; though Rulven would never put voice to such a comment. Some people didn't know what was good for themselves. Yes, like the time Dmitri had the plague and was out feverish in the jungle. The harper didn't know what was best for him either. Though Rulven had failed to get the fellow to the infirmary, at least he had gotten him back into the Weyr–surely Dmitri would have died lost out in the jungle.
"That's alright, a bit use to it. I haven't met a friendly salamandyr as of yet." Though firelizards like him well enough, maybe it had to be one way or the other. Either attract the firelizards, or the salamandyrs. The two didn't seem to like each other much from his observations.
The smith nodded to his name, assuming Dorava had made the guess do to the lack of hyphenation to label him as a dragonrider. "Actually, I'm stationed here as a smith. I figured it couldn't hurt to at least take the lessons to learn about the Weyr a bit more. I'm from Hyphen." Rulven didn't really fit the image of a candidate–looked a good few years older than his true age, his size and shape certainly not molding him to be a awkward teenager. Though, the seemingly innocence he showed made people second guess his age–or his intelligence.
"Dorava. Please to meet you." He nodded his head, still perching back on his palms and idly kicking out his leg every now and then. Purposely he didn't look down to Val, because yes, he didn't want Dorava to get the wrong idea of him. "I didn't mean to.. intrude or anything by sitting with you. Just thought some company might be nice, maybe a bit to eat, or some klah?"
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Post by dragon on Oct 15, 2009 17:31:44 GMT -5
"Well ... once he gets over being terrified and shy of everything, Val is a nice mandyr. At least, I think so." Dorava said, rather glad for the distraction from her miseries. Reaching into her shirt, she grabbed Val by his middle and pulled him out. The little blue-and-white dangled dejectedly from her fingers with what could have been an utterly murderous gaze for his mistress. Talk about embarrassing him!! Bad bad. He protested. Dorava grinned crookedly, shook him a little bit, and then offered the tiny creature to Rulven. "He's just embarrassed cause he hatched with no color on his back half." She explained. "But I think it's cute."
"Stationed here as a smith? From Hyphen?" Dorava asked. "That's odd ... we already have smiths from there, here." She commented. "Why did they feel they had to do that? Are you liking it here? Faranth, I hope you don't get sick, too..." She sighed slowly, staring off across the forest canopy below her feet.
"No, I don't mind ... an intrusion is ok sometimes. Sometimes necessary." Dorava shrugged. "Company is always nice." She offered him a small, half-hearted smile. "Looks like I have nothing but lots of time to look forward to, anyway."
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Post by rii on Oct 15, 2009 18:41:47 GMT -5
"I don't doubt it, they just seem a very.. one person companion." Then she was digging in her shirt, and Rulven politely adverted his gaze.. until the protesting creature drew his attention back. Nervously Rulven wiped off his palm on the front of his shirt and held the large, slightly calloused hand under Valiant. No one had ever handed a salamandyr to him before–a bit odd. A kind smile was directed down at the small thing, finding nothing strange about the unique dual coloration. "Nothing wrong with that, makes him more of an individual. I think it's neat."
The questions pertaining to his circumstances were to be expected, but Rulven tried to neatly avoid them without drawing suspicion. Though Dorava's words had struck a curious cord within himself. "Who is the smith that is already here?" Rulven had not really been working any smith-related duties since coming, more busy with candidacy, chores, then the plague. "I guess they figure this is a good as any place to learn short of sending us to a hall. It's alright here.. though.. judging by what happened with S'rei a moment ago.. I guess I have a bit more to get use to?"
His free hand came up, absently rubbing the back of his head in a gesture of nervousness. "Uhh, I doubt I will get sick. I've been working in the infirmary to er.. help.. move.. the deceased. If I was going to get sick, would of happened a long time ago." Probably not a good topic to linger on, as it was the source of Dorava's misery. Rulven cleared his throat, putting the smile back on.
"Don't look so glum about getting a bit of free time. Come, let's go get you.. and your dear valiant.. something to eat." The smith stood, carefully wiping off his palm before extending the hand down to Dorava. "This isn't exactly the most cheery of places to be sitting around at the moment.."
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Post by dragon on Oct 15, 2009 20:32:06 GMT -5
"They kind of are. Like Flitters. Or some felines, I suppose. Only ... crazier." Dorava commented, setting Valiant down on Rulven's palm. The poor thing curled up there, wrapping his white tail around his blue legs and giving Rulven a very pitiful look, frill mashed down around his neck. He plainly thought that Dorava was giving him away, or worse, feeding him to Rulven. And it made for a very dejected looking little mandyr indeed. Dorava watched that, and couldn't help but smile. "Silly creature."
Val bad. No bad. Good not. Val? he asked, very very quietly.
"Oh, and they rarely make any sense at all when they talk." Dorava added, before reaching over and stroking the poor thing's tiny head. "It's ok, Val, he won't eat you."
"Faranth if I know. I don't know that many people here, despite how long I've been here. Ummmm ... I really can't say. I just remember hearing someone say something about one. And the Weyrlings. Or something. It was a while ago. Maybe it was you they were talking about. Did you make something for the Weyrlings?" She asked.
"S'rei ... is a very strange man. He's not like the others in this place. And ... unlike any other Bronzer I've ever met. He's ... nicer. S'rei doesn't seem to pull the greater-than-thou act ... but then as big as he is, he prolly doesn't have to." She shrugged a bit. "If you just got here ... oh yeah, you did just say you just got here, so it wasn't you they were talking about. Anyway ... if you just got here, you have a whole lot to get used to, let me assure you. Things don't work the same way here as they do outside the Weyr. People's ranks are determined by arbitrary dragon hatchings and flights, and not by a person's own hard works or competence, for one. Which can be annoying." And having come from outside the Weyr once upon a time, herself, she could sympathize with others coming in. She was not a Weyrbrat, that was for sure.
"Oh, you poor soul ... I am glad I never had to do that." Dorava sighed. "Moving the dead ... shards. That would drag me down so fast ..." so many that she and the others hadn't been able to save. It would almost drive one to eventually quit trying, it seemed so pointless. It made Dorava wonder how many had died while she was unconscious with the sickness herself. And again to wonder why she'd lived. And why her baby hadn't.
She'd so been looking forward to her baby...
Shaking herself out of the slump she was thinking herself into, she looked up at Rulven when he moved, and then at the hand he offered. Val cheeped pitifully, sure that he was never going to see home again, too terrified to move. Dorava smiled a bit, and took his hand before climbing to her own feet. "Alright. Some food would probably help, I guess. Hold on a sec ... it's a long walk from here through some rather dank halls ... you're not afraid of heights are you?" She asked.
Aonith?[/b]
Hmmmm?
Would you come get us please?[/b]
Us? Aonith asked, before bestirring herself and carefully not dumping Mandyr off of her head. The sleeping green flitter didn't seem inclined to wake up or more at all in the slightest.
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Post by rii on Oct 15, 2009 22:01:00 GMT -5
"Maybe they come off more crazy because they actually speak words.." The blue mandyr was just so sad, Rulven gently ran his finger along his back. He wished he had some food right then to offer the little guy–if only because in the smith's mind food solved many, if not all, problems. Any critter seemed to cheer up once fed. It just seemed to make that sort of simple sense to Rulven. "No, no. Not going to eat you, just providing a warm hand for you to sit on."
It was so tiny..
Rulven gave Dorava a curious look while extending his hand over to her, just so poor Valiant could hop back over to her shoulder. No need to distress the rather dejected looking mandyr. A slight shake of head was given to her question of weyrlings. "I haven't really made anything since arriving." As for the comments concerning S'rei, Rulven opted not to say anything at all. The smith still felt a bit baffled at how the bronzer had managed to sit on him without noticing. It just fell into the whole ideal of ranks. Rulven was too much of a fair-minded person. He wanted to treat everyone equally, and not judge by the color of their dragon.. or have them look down at him because he wasn't a rider. "Yes, I'm sure I'll understand it more if I do impress."
Any comments toward the hauling of the dead were skipped, in hopes of sweeping that subject under the rug. It was not a topic to discuss to lighten the mood. Rulven had taken to the task as he would any other, refusing to really look into the faces of those that had passed on. It was somewhat of a blessing that he had not gotten to know a lot of people around the Weyr before the plague hit.
"Uh, heights.." No, not really, though Rulven leaned out toward the ledge to peer down at the river below. "It would be a bit silly if I was afraid of them. Are there riders out there that are afraid of heights?" He had to admit though, being up in the air was out of his comfort zone. Of the elements, fire and earth he was made, air and... water.. did not mix well with him. Sunk like a rock.. and probably flew like a rock as well. Completely oblivious to what her question had meant, Rulven turned his hazel gaze back onto the woman. "Why do you ask?"
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