In the beauty of it (open

[dragon]

It was actually quite nice, even if it was a rather hard sight to get used to. Much less thinking of as the weyrbowl. Because ... well ... it just didn't look like any weyrbowl ever seen before. What turkey had built this place anyway? Clearly one that didn't want to be seen. For someone who had started off in the classical bowl of Benden, and then to the odd but acceptable 'bowl' of Selenitas that had actually been a chasm of a river ... this was just another very strange stroke.

Dorava sat there on the edge of the ledge with her feet dangling over the side. The ledges were pretty much all the same, really. One big road going all the way around in giant terraces. Terraces that stepped all the way down to the flat bottom that was rather ... well ... flat. But that wasn't the weirdest part!! The weirdest part was far overhead.

There was no sky. Just a cavern ceiling. Which was kinda cool actually. Talk about a hidden Weyr. This was hidier than Selenitas was. There were tunnels poked into it for flying through of course, and if the sun got at just the right angle at just the right time of day, some light would stream in. Which was a completely fantastic and slightly eerie sight to behold. As it would light up every scrap of dust hanging in the air.

The flora was present, but different too. Mushrooms grew like flowers. What leafed vegetation there was, was all very pale and veined. It was ... something out of a story, really. Dorava swung her feet idly as she looked around some more.

Who ever in the world had actually managed to find this place? Apparently someone so desperate for a new home they were exploring every cave big enough to fit a dragon into. Which was actually probably exactly it. After being driven out, they'd needed somewhere to go...

"This is so cool." Dorava said to herself, picking up a stone that rest on the ground near her hand. Turning it over she looked at it thoughtfully. Raring back, she flung it out into open space where it seemed to just hang for a bit in the illusion the inner-mountain view gave. But it did fall, as it inevitably would. After it started its downward arc into the bowl, Dorava winced.

Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Hopefully it wouldn't clock someone on the head!

[Requiem]

He was headed back to offices and weyrlings, this matter of trying to be everywhere at once doubly difficult now that he was relegated to crutching around rather than moving like a normal human being. Though some could argue that he actually was more efficient in using his arms as opposed to his legs; the brownrider could get going at a speed that would force others to jog just to keep up. Not that such a thing was safe, mind you. Like that would stop him.

Perhaps that was why, when the pebble came whistling out of nowhere and struck him on the nose, M'ta found himself trapped in a series of rather unfortunate events that ended, naturally, with a colossally glorious faceplant. It's rather hard to jump out of one's skin on crutches, after all. This naturally had his body swinging forward and...well...the crutches weren't forthcoming. Then a scramble of unfortunately fast reflexes and instead of falling on his back he merely managed to land face first. With his bad leg bent up behind him, fortunately, so at least there were no more crunching of bones. This time.

His nose got the worst of it. Twice. But he continued to lay there on the dusty stone to wait for his bones to stop rattling from the impact, turning his head to one side and spitting out dirt and a pebble or two. "Scorch it." This set off a rumble of dragon laughter that could be audibly heard from here. A lovely swan dive, mine. I'd give it a 10 out of 10 if you hadn't been missing one essential element: water. M'ta directed a glare at the ledge hiding Behruth from his sight. Good to know he had such a concerned dragon.

Perhaps, ShortyMine, if you did not move so fast, little falling rocks would not trip you up, the brown offered remorselessly, his amusement still coming in strong. "Shove it," M'ta grumbled, lacking anything better to respond with because the brown was right. He'd been hit by a pebble. (It had not yet occurred to M'ta to think that someone might have thrown said pebble, but even if it had, no one could have expected him to go down so gloriously. Most people did not get knocked over by pebbles. Nope. He did that one to himself.)

Finally, he moved, curling to carefully avoid the leg he'd broken and cupping his bloody nose as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He looked on his crimson-bathed fingers with morbid curiosity. "Now, that's just pretty." It's not broken. Didn't you have somewhere to be? Bugger off. Lunch can wait a few minutes.

[dragon]

Oh Faranth. Dorava gritted her teeth as she watched that stone arc and fall ... right down toward someone who was scurrying in a very odd fashion down below. From here she couldn't tell why the walking motion wasn't right. All she could tell was that there was someone down there.

If Pern had had an actual religion, she would have been praying fervently for the stone to miss. What were the chances anyway?

Apparently pretty high. She winced when she saw the individual go through a rather strange series of motions before finally face planting. That wasn't from surprise ... that was from impact she could tell. Dratit blastit and scorchit too. Dorava figured she should at least go see if they were okay. Wouldn't it just figure if she'd managed to murder someone with a pebble between the eyes? And the day had started out so nicely too.

That was so typical of fate.

Dorava rolled away from the ledge and to her feet before taking off sprinting down the line to where there was a way down to the ledge below. From there she had to run even farther down to find a way down to the next level... sheesh, but they needed rope ladders installed or something. Scrambling down, she turned and hurried back just in time to see the fellow rolling over to prop himself up and fondle his face tenderly. What he said was muffled to her, but as she got closer she realized she recognized this one.

M'ta.

Oh, could it get any worse? As if the crutches on the ground weren't any indication, she already knew he had a busted leg. And from the red smears she could see now, a busted nose. Slowing as she approached, she pulled a cloth from a pocket as she made the final approach at a walk, rounding about to where she could be seen. Crouching down at hand, she offered him the cloth.

Some guys had pride after all.

"How bad is it?" Dorava asked with genuine concern, brows knitted together. Maybe it wasn't busted after all. But his face was definitely going to be sporting some lovely bruises it looked like. "Is your leg okay?" It would be wretched if he'd rebroke it in that tumble!! That he wasn't screaming in pain was initially a good sign. But since this was M'ta ... that wasn't a real solid indicator anyway.

Slithering out to the edge, awakened from her nap by the commotion in Dorava's awareness, Aonith peered over the ledge at the lower rings to see what was going on. But thankfully for the moment she kept her proverbial mouth shut.

[Requiem]

Far be it for M'ta to ever allow someone to sneak up on him, much less run up on him, without getting a good view of them. He didn't turn his head much, mind you, peering over one hand while the arm that his body still blocked from their sight hovered near the hilt of a dagger. He'd never claimed not to be ridiculously paranoid. Still and all, compared to eight turns ago the brownrider was certainly much more civilized. Which was to say the threat of extra holes had reduced by about two thirds. Not that he found it likely for someone to be attacking him after he fell in the middle of the weyrbowl. Instinct and logic simply didn't match up all the time. Or most of the time.

By the time Dorava skirted around him, though, M'ta had both recognized the woman and returned both hands to his nose, watching her with curiosity more than suspicion. The cloth stated her intent well enough. For the life of him, though, M'ta couldn't figure out why someone he only knew in passing was rushing to help him. He was pretty sure most people who didn't know him well (and some who did) would keep a wide berth if given the choice. The brownrider didn't have the best of reputations when it came to interacting with others. He didn't question it enough to refuse the cloth, though, uttering a muffled "thank you" as he wiped the blood away from his face. It was just a nosebleed, and a small one at that.

The Weyrlingmaster blinked at her, cocking his head slightly to one side before removing the cloth long enough to speak. "It's not bad. And I managed not to fall on my leg. Somehow. So it's no worse," the man concluded with a wry smile. Was it good? Of course not. It also hurt as it always did. That had nothing to do with the fall, though. "Move too fast on those things," he added with a shrug, his eyes still fixed curiously on Dorava's face. Why did she care? He'd only seen her in the infirmary, working or because Aonith was injured again, and most of the time that was only when he'd been visiting R'wign to bring him lunch or something. By the time he started actually working in the infirmary himself she had more or less left it. "Spose this'll teach me."

Wiping more blood away from his nose, he glanced down at the cloth. "I hope you didn't want this back." M'ta reached out to gather one of the crutches to him. Now most would think he'd be grumbling or snarling at Dorava, as was his wont, but he didn't often do that with people who didn't know him well enough not to take offense, at least when they weren't teasing him themselves. The brownrider had a habit of responding in kind to whatever he was given. "Um...I was just going to lunch. Have you eaten yet?" he questioned, reaching for the second of his crutches that was just beyond easy reach. He was curious as to just what had prompted her mad dash down the ledges.

[dragon]

"You're welcome." Dorava answered soberly, merely shaking her head in a negative when he asked about whether or not she'd want it back. It was doubtful the red stains would ever be washable back out of it once he managed to get his nose under control. By the time the blood inside his head had dried up enough to quit, the stuff in the cloth would have long since been dried and encrusted.

Standing up again, she moved around to the other side to pick up the out-of-reach crutch and hand it to him. "Here you go." She said, before offering him her own hand up. Getting up one-legged was difficult enough - being forced to use crutches to do it made it ten times as difficult, she knew. A single hand up could help a lot, if his pride didn't stand in the way of it.

"Moving too fast on them merely only says that you're too busy a person that has been on them too long, in such that you've learned to do that." Dorava answered mildly. "I don't suppose anyone has offered to help you with everything you have to get done, have they?" She inquired. Though with his working reputation, she could also understand why.

"No, I haven't eaten." She answered. "I ... actually hadn't realized it was that time of day." She admitted. Telling time of day inside a cavern ... wasn't quite the same as telling the time of day in a canyon. Or a regular Weyrbowl. And ... she wasn't one of those people who had an internal clock for a stomach either. "Now that you mention it, I could probably eat." That sounded a lot stranger after she said it than it had before hand. Must be ear interference or something.

Did you have a hand in his rather sprawled condition, mine? Aonith asked, sounding oh-so-innocent and somehow oh-so-accusitory at the same time. How she pulled that sort of thing off, Dorava had no idea.

Yes and no. It was just a pebble! Dorava answered, carefully keeping every lick of the exchange purely mental.

[Requiem]

M'ta took the proferred crutch with an almost distracted smile, working to gather his limbs beneath him in such a way as to make his rising slightly less awkward. All of which was arrested by the hand that he couldn't help but view with a touch of surprise. His eyes flicked back up to her face questioningly, but he only hesitated for a moment before accepting her help and letting her aid in pulling him up. It was a good deal easier and less painful than if he'd had to stand all by himself, after all. Why was this woman who was a near stranger being so nice?

The wry smile was back in full force as he got his crutches beneath him and she commented on how busy he must be. Yes, well, that was pretty normal. He'd been even busier at the old Selenitas, though he'd also had the use of both his legs. Her question, though, didn't receive an immediate answer; the brownrider apparently found the concept of someone offering to help him humorous enough that he laughed, then paused to mop up a fresh rivulet of blood.

"Easy to lose track, I know," M'ta agreed pleasantly enough, beginning to move off at a more sedate pace for the dining hall. "If my schedule wasn't as tight as it is I'd probably have no idea what time of day it was, either." That and he usually met Jazzy for lunch. Not today. She was busy. But with how much work he had, it was about the only time he got to see her, so he was always certain to be on time. (Besides. A Weyrlingmaster must always be punctual, so he could growl at any weyrlings who weren't.)

His mind finally returned to her initial question. "It's not that people don't offer to help, you know." Again he had to pause to clear a small amount of blood from his upper lip. It didn't seem to bother him much, though, because he went on as if there had been no interruption. "I have two full-time jobs between the weyrlings and my children. Plenty of people offer to watch Teri and Ria for me. As for the rest...I don't know, I don't think they can really know how much work it is? But I got E'rro to cut my hours from six to two. That probably would have killed me. And I talked Merridan into assisting me with the weyrlings. People are willing to help. I just don't think they know how to, or realize it's needed sometimes."

All of which was kind of his own fault, really. M'ta didn't often ask for help. He was highly independent and part of him worried that if he asked for too much help people would think he couldn't handle what he had on his plate. Not having the weyrlings would kill Behruth, and even M'ta had warmed to the role. He was a natural (if somewhat harsh) teacher. For Ruth it was all the brown really could do. The dragon wasn't strong enough to fly a wing and never would be. He also loved those little hatchlings to distraction. Nor was M'ta giving up his children to anyone else. Maybe Riaren to T'san, but T'san didn't want to raise the boy, just to be in his life. So, no, he kept asking help down to a minimum.

And, yes, M'ta did manage okay. Despite being constantly busy.

When they got to the dining hall, one of the drudges noticed the short man and immediately set about putting something together for lunch. In a moment she'd come out with enough for two and the brownrider smiled gratefully while half-gesturing Dorava to a seat while he took the one next to it. "So, then...how come you're the only person in the weyr concerned enough to come rushing to help me? Was everyone else too busy laughing?" he added dryly, the twist of his lips indicating it was a joke. Well, if she could pick up on his subtle brand of dry humor, anyway.

[dragon]

Dorava walked in silence as M'ta made a slower yet still surprising set of tracks toward his lunch. She listened to what he said, and did understand. She was still trying to get used to how this new place worked though, and was surprised to see that someone was ready and waiting to fetch something for M'ta. Well ... maybe people weren't half as blind to the need of help after all. She took the offered seat, rather surprised that he had invited her along at all, much less this much hospitality.

Especially considering she'd been the one to give him the bloody nose ... and given the question leveled at her on the way over she supposed that she ought to confess to that tidbit, too. "Well ... part of it might be that I might have been the only one paying enough attention to see it happen. Maybe I was the closest." She shrugged a moment, before continuing. "The other part might be because I was the one that threw the pebble." She confessed. "I certainly hadn't intended to smack anyone with it, and I'm sorry you got caught at the other end of what was probably a pretty thoughtless action."

"Soo ... the least I could do was come down and help you back to your feet. Make sure you were alright." Because pebbles could kill, she knew that for a fact. She'd actually done it a few times, though a sling had been involved. Shards, that had been a long time ago. Long before she'd ever even given a single thought to dragons. Someone had to keep the herds safe from stray canines after all...

"You mentioned your kids and your work, but I have to ask. Is anyone helping you take care of your dragon?" Dorava asked. It was something of a glaring hole in the picture he'd painted, and she knew well that having a bum limb could really put a kink in washing and oiling a large beast. Much less a brown. Having that bum limb be a busted leg? Just trying sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

[Requiem]

Of all the answers he might have expected from Dorava (ranging from sympathetic to blatantly untrue) the one she actually gave him was actually rather surprising. He stopped mid-bite to stare at her for a long moment, then had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting food at her when he broke into laughter. M'ta half-turned away, working to get control of himself and hopefully not suffocate on a piece of food that happened to get stuck in his throat. After a few seconds the laughter died down enough for him to finish chewing and swallow the food in his mouth, his dark skin flushed with his amusement.

She was even engaging in the classic tactic of speaking quickly and changing the subject before he could comment, attempting to deflect attention from what she'd just told him. Poor thing. Taking a sip of water, he let her move on to the subject of caring for 'Ruth. M'ta grinned at her, a mischievous or even wicked glint in his eye. "Convenient that the weyrlings are learning about dragon care right now, isn't it? I have eight little minions to make sure he's oiled properly and whatnot." He'd be working the next turn and a half for them, so it was only fair that they did a little something for him. Of course with the purpose of 'learning.' Of course.

Eyes narrowed a little playfully on Dorava. "You don't have to offer to do anything to make it up to me, you know," he commented slyly, strongly suspecting that the question was rooted somewhere in guilt, trying to find something to do for him to make up for this pebble mishap. "I don't know why you're so sure it's the same pebble. My eyes aren't that good to track something so small over so far a distance. Pebbles and other things are always falling into the weyrbowl."

He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Although..." Another sip of water interrupted the thought. "If you really want to help me out, since I have Merridan doing a large chunk of the fieldwork and I'm doing most of the lecturing and things that don't require two good legs, I could definitely use a scribe. My handwriting is only a step or two above illegible." He flashed a smile at Dorava. The small brownrider had already decided that he liked this woman, though why exactly he couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps because she was honest, or perhaps because he didn't get his usual paranoid feeling from her, that there was something not genuine about her actions.

"If you're not busy, anyway. I'd be more than happy to make it up to you in some way when I'm more myself. Possibly in sparring? I'm one of the better fighters here." That wasn't arrogance. It was simple fact. He and Ka'rys had been almost equally matched, and he was slightly better than E'rro. There weren't a great number of people who could keep up with the two brownriders. "I don't know your skill level, but everyone needs a partner to keep from going rusty if nothing else. Or anything else you can think of. I'm open to suggestions."

[dragon]

He found it funny. Hilarious even. Enough so that he was endangering choking on his lunch. Dorava arched an eyebrow curiously, as that was not at all the reaction she had expected. Anger, maybe. Irritation definitely. Possibly even a lecture on how stupid she was. That was normal. But laughter? Dorava had to wonder if she was even awake. But no, she was awake. Definitely. The additional laughter rolling around in the back of her mind at her mental stumbling was all the clue she needed. Aonith thought it was funny that Dorava was surprised that M'ta thought it was funny. How ironic.

And then came his answers to what she said. "I am glad they are mustering to the task then." She answered. It was true, she hadn't thought about that detail, where he had a whole bunch of young people to order around who were strong and hale. And ... more or less intact.

She actually hadn't been planning to offer to do anything to make anything up, but she kept her mouth shut on that tiny fact as he made his comments. She was willing to let him think that she had, since he'd gotten there on his own. Her question had been out of pure concern, rather than out of any kind of selfish motivation to make herself feel better about the situation. "If it wasn't the same pebble, it was a mighty convenient ... or inconvenient as the case might be ... stray pebble." Dorava pointed out. He had been downrange and all that. True, by the time it reached him she couldn't see the pebble anymore in the cavern light. But she had seen his reaction to it, signifying that it had indeed hit him. Blargh. But neither was that a point to be argued. They both knew what had happened, even if the time in between could be questioned.

"A scribe?" Dorava arched an eyebrow again. "Well ... I guess ... I could wiggle some time in. Since I obviously have time to be throwing pebbles." She offered a small smile. She was still on Triage, as well as her thread-wing, and had only recently picked up Searching again on the side. She'd only quit searching because of the Wasteland rule ... now they didn't rule, and Aonith was terribly good at it. But time, yes she still had time. Unlike M'ta, she didn't have any kids to worry about. Even if she did wish that were different.

"I don't have the most floral handwriting myself. But I like to think it's legible. No on in the infirmary ever complained that I'm aware of, anyway." Dorava answered. "What kind of scribbling are you needing a scribe for?"

Oh! This wasn't as a payment for clonking him on the head? Well, that made it only better then. "I'd like that. Training I mean. My skill in the air far outweighs my skill on the ground ..." which was sad, sad indeed since most skirmishes happened on the ground. Her self-taught trick of diving while Aonith betweened from point A to point B was only good against mounted Riders... assuming a passing dragon didn't snatch her out of the air mid-dive. So far so good on that count.

Turning her attention down to the plate that had been placed before her, she poked at it a moment before actually taking a bite. She normally ate while doing paperwork ... mutitasking meant things got done quicker and more efficiently. But this, obviously, was not the norm. Though it did seem kind of odd to be eating and not reading or writing while she was at it. Having amiable company helped though, as she could listen to anything he might have to say instead.

But the food was good. Who knew that a kitchen in this dark place could produce such excellent food?

[Requiem]

And not an idiot, either, this Dorava. Interesting. R'wign had spoken of her occasionally and he didn't think there was a single healer who didn't know of her frequent run-ins with Kalierre. Sad to say M'ta had rather figured her for a fool. If she was at all stupid, though, it must not be her actual intelligence but rather just her social ability because she didn't seem slow at all to him. (And the brownrider wasn't someone who you'd call generous when it came to judging people's mental capacity. Er'ani would forever be known as 'idiot,' and he was arguably one of M'ta's better friends.) He would take socially awkward over stupid any day. And he should, considering if he didn't he'd be one hell of a hypocrite. The Weyrlingmaster still had a way to go before he struck anyone as normal. But what could you really expect of a presumably orphaned street urchin from the slums of Bitra? Even without factoring in extraneous factors, M'ta would never quite be like normal weyrbred or holdbred people.

That all was to say that while it was true that she couldn't possibly have physical evidence that the stone she'd thrown had been the one to strike him, the probability that it was a different stone was fairly low. Perhaps it was strange for him to consider it intelligence for someone to come to the seemingly obvious conclusion that it was the same one. Yet others might react thinking it such but never be able to explain why, while Dorava had no trouble understanding her own reaction, and no qualms arguing with him even though he might choose to take advantage of her confessed role in the affair if she proved her point. M'ta believed most people were inherently smarter than they knew themselves to be. Intuition was not intuition so much as noticing things subconsciously that your mind simply couldn't process on a conscious level. It was nice to see that someone looked at the world and actually thought about it, reasoned it out.

"Oh, what kind? Only the things I need other people to be able to read. Handouts and whatnot. There won't be too many of those but I'll still need a copy for everyone. I don't really like reading, so I try not to make the weyrlings do it too much. Not everyone is literate, you know." M'ta hadn't been when he was a weyrling. That was only...what? Five or six turns ago? Which was a good enough explanation for his atrocious handwriting. He'd had to teach himself and that went about as well as could be expected. That he was a healer at all was a small miracle (and a direct result of a very pushy weyrhealer of a weyrmate). "That said a reference for some of the things we cover can help for those who know how to read." He shrugged a shoulder. "I'd just have you in the office during my office hours or something unless you change your mind."

The brownrider couldn't help but smile at her agreement. He didn't really have many other skills to offer. Apparently he was made for caretaking (see: Weyrlingmaster, healer, father) and poking holes in people with pointy objects. A rather contradictory set of skills to be sure. He was also decent with woodwork but M'ta didn't have the time for that really. He might have more once the weyrlings matured enough to make the lessons more flexible, but probably not for almost another turn. It was good that she'd be happy with some training. Faranth knew he'd need it himself after waiting for the blasted leg to heal. "It's settled, then."

He glanced sidelong at her as the subsequent silence stretched a bit. "So, now that you don't work at the infirmary anymore, what do you occupy your time with apart from lobbing pebbles at unsuspecting passersby?"

[dragon]

Dorava smiled and nodded as he explained what was needed. "I can do that. Pretty quickly too, I think. I used to do a lot of transcribing a couple Turns ago." She admitted, though it was probably rather irrelevant to his interest. "Just shoot Aonith a call and we'll be over whenever you need the help. Most of my duties are fairly flexible when they don't involve actual Wings and what not." She agreed.

There was something completely wonky with these spuds on her plate. One, they didn't taste like spuds. They tasted like little bits of flavor-riddled heaven. If there was even such a thing, this was what it should taste like. She poked at one of the spuds and peered at it for a moment, trying to figure out what had been done to it to make it so sharding good. She would have to figure out who made these and then pick at their brains as much as they would allow. This needed written down for posterity's sake. Shared!

Her attention was completely derailed and stolen by what M'ta said next however. She paused, and then gave him the most puzzled expression she could have possibly conjured up on the fly. " ... what did you say?" She asked, bewilderment coloring her tone completely. "I don't work at the infirmary any more?" Dorava asked, straightening in her seat. "Someone definitely failed to inform me of this change, and I've been putting in a lot of hours pointlessly if that's the case." And that was just downright annoying. Why had she been kicked out this time?! "Last I knew, I was on the Triage wing. Last I knew, I still am on that wing."

Oh, Faranth help her. People could at least tell her if she wasn't wanted around anymore ... Kali had at least done that for her. There was no guessing where one stood with Kali, the woman had left no doubts whatsoever in everyone in the area's mind what she thought about anything.

"But um ... yeah. Last I knew, I work the Infirmary still. My other wingduties have been minimal because of it, though I suspect I'm going to get more Thread time now that the Weyr has moved and all that ... other than that, I harass various people, go on Searches, that sort of thing." She shrugged. "In my free time I do a lot of healer-related studying, all the material I can get my hands on as it were. Some things I'm not allowed to see, for reasons unknown to me. But ... even with that, I still end up with free time." She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat slightly. It rather bothered her to hear round-about that she might not be a healer anymore.

"I ... uh ... don't have a significant other, or a family to take up my time." She admitted. Despite how she had tried to alter that. Not having a man like her, that she could understand. But apparently she failed at even something usually so simple as getting knocked up. The one time she'd succeeded she'd lost it pre-term. Which still hurt when she thought about it, and she really didn't like thinking about it at all.

She was so glad she had Love and Aonith ... otherwise she would be destined to a rather lonely life, she was convinced.

[Requiem]

The brownrider naturally was in the process of another mouthful of food when Dorava began to react very poorly to what he'd just asked. He blinked at her, frowning slightly as he chewed, then blinked again. Triage wing? When did that happen? Well now he felt more than just a little silly. M'ta knew that he was busy and everything, but so busy that he didn't notice Dorava had been back in the infirmary for what seemed like quite awhile? That was pretty impressively oblivious right there.

As she went on and it became clear that his comment had upset her greatly (one would have thought she'd take her own senses over a stray comment by a man who really didn't know her so well) M'ta realized he'd probably have to fess up to being an ignorant buffoon before she got upset at E'rro or something. "Um...yeah, I didn't know they put you on the Triage wing? I was referring back to when you quit. Seems I knew a lot more about what was going on in the infirmary when I didn't work there myself," he stated a touch sheepishly as he focused on the food on his plate.

M'ta chuckled wryly at that. "Oh, most of us don't. Just take a glance at the new weyr roster; hardly a pair of weyrmates in sight. The job doesn't seem to lend to it." He twisted the ring he had yet to take off slowly about his finger, apparently lost in thought, then flashed Dorava a wan smile. "I've only got the kids because I seem to collect strays. Not that I regret it." Even if they were just young children, at least it was someone to come home to. An empty weyr would just feel...wrong. Unbelievably wrong. It still didn't feel right. Barring time in the infirmary which he didn't remember and maybe a sevenday in between, M'ta had lived with R'wign since Impressing Ruth and in the communal candidate barracks before that. No, it still didn't feel right.

"The library. You haven't heard why it's forbidden? That's where those things no one's been able to identify or find again got Meira. Some sort of tunnel behind a bookcase...had the whole place spooked enough to close down the library and post a guard outside the doors." A guard who was still there, last he knew. "S'why you don't have access to everything like you want to." Just the stuff brought over or already removed from the library before it was closed down.

[dragon]

Dorava paused, and then offered a slightly embarrassed smile. "Oh. Um ... yeah, that was a long time ago? I went back to working in the infirmary when Wasteland took over. I refused to run Searches for them, see. And so many people were getting hurt 'cause of them, too. So ... it was the best I could do really." She shrugged. "Almost as soon as I came back to the infirmary, I was placed on the triage wing. It's ... certainly different than regular infirmary work." She admitted.

"Either the job doesn't lend to it much, or the people who take up this line of work don't lend to it ... or a combination of both I guess." Dorava agreed with a small shrug. It didn't escape her notice the way he fiddled with the ring he was wearing, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for his loss. "It's good they have you, strays or not." She offered. It was better than them living in the creche and being for all they knew completely unwanted. That sort of thing couldn't be good on a child's psyche, she knew. "You know, it means even more than usual when you take in kids that aren't yours ... you're being there for them when you don't have to be, after all."

But she offered a small laugh and shook her head slightly. "Not this library. I've never even been anywhere near this library. I meant the one back in old Selenitas." She clarified. "There were things that Kali didn't want me messing with, for whatever reason." She shrugged slightly. "I am sure she knew what she was talking about, even if I am left completely in the dark on the topic. I am, after all, only an apprentice." And it had taken her turns upon turns to even get to be allowed that much. To be an apprentice. She was content enough to not push her luck as it were, even if her hunger for knowledge and learning still kept her curiosity niggling at her subconscious. "Is there any word on what is going to be done about this library? Surely we can't let whatever that is run unchecked and unidentified."

[Requiem]

"I imagine it would be," M'ta agreed. Preparing to respond to emergencies on dragonback, transporting injured, etc. It wasn't quite the same as taking care of colds and papercuts, now was it? Not that the brownrider wanted everything that came into the infirmary to be some huge emergency, of course, but it would be nice if people didn't bother them over inconsequentials. Parents were the worst; they seemed to feel the need to grab a healer every time their child had a sniffle.

M'ta's gaze flicked to Dorava and away again, letting go of the ring as if it had suddenly started burning him. "Behruth would hate me forever if I didn't," he mumbled, setting all responsibility for the raising of the two orphaned children squarely on the brown as if he had nothing whatsoever to do with it. "He loved Ebolath and Checkoth and Jingth." Had nothing to do with adopting Terilyn with R'wign when the man was still alive, or taking in the child of his two best friends (one of which he'd joined to.) Nope. Definitely all Behruth.

M'ta was certainly relieved to have the topic changed to something he was more comfortable with than people commenting on how good it was to care for children not his own. It wasn't like he was probably going to have any, unless through a Flight mishap...and that wasn't really something he wanted anyway. The topic of the library was something he was more than willing to discuss though.

Smiling wryly, he looked in the general direction of the library, though of course he couldn't see it from here in the dining hall. "Yes. I've spoken to E'rro about it a little. He's reluctant to go hunting before he has more information on them, but as far as I can tell, no one's doing anything to get that information. All too scared or too busy I suppose. Told him when he finally does get his arse in gear I'm going with him, so we'll have to wait until my leg mends." He smiled crookedly at Dorava.

[dragon]

Dorava tilted her head ever so slightly to one side as she considered what M'ta not only said, but did. She smiled ever so briefly on occasion. Her meal was completely forgotten on the table before her, far more interested in the conversation than in the meal - despite how awesome it was.

She'd eat it cold, easily. It wasn't like she didn't have time today. She allowed most of the things said to slide by without any comment. She wasn't dense as a brick even if sometimes she rather felt like it. But even a brick could see that M'ta was trying to dodge the implication that he might have a soft spot somewhere in him. She could understand the desire to preserve one's reputation and let that fall by the wayside as well. She suspected that it was indeed not all Beruth's fault ... but she wouldn't take him to task on it either.

But when it came to those creatures ... "I'd offer to go along but I'm afraid I'd be more hindrance than anything else." She admitted. "All my skills are lent toward wide open spaces, not confined areas. Barring healing of course." Maybe that would change, if he was actually serious about teaching her. Her skill in sparring was fragile at best, more successful out of desperation and a will to keep living than any kind of finesse. That and being phenomenally strong and well-constructed for a woman. That tended to catch most opponents off guard. She wasn't just a rider, she was a rider that had a background in handling animals bigger than she was. Her bones and muscles had adapted to match throughout her entire life.

"I admit to some curiosity toward the creatures themselves. I'd like to disassemble one, if we can ever get a specimen." Dorava admitted. Just to learn everything she could about the physicality of the thing. Obviously that wouldn't tell them anything about their mannerisms or habits. But it would say which bits were more fragile, which bits to watch out for, and ... maybe a few other things too. It remained to be discovered.

"Too bad the tunnels and spaces are too small for even the whers. I think they'd have a better shot at spotting the things in those dank, dark spaces." She speculated. They probably had a better chance at fighting them off, too. What with having big mouthfulls of teeth of their own on the front end. Not to mention talons designed to rend beasts in two. Humans were rather inadequately armed when it came to natural resources and senses.