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 Oct 26, 2007 23:06:45 GMT -5
Z'hin had cocked a brow at Marra's assertion, willing to ignore her discomfort but still vaguely annoyed that she felt the need to lie about it. Amazing. The harper had managed to find one of his few pet peeves. His eyes had darkened. Not amused, he listened to her joking and found it rather distasteful, though that probably had something to do with the fact that she'd just told that little lie. Yes. It was little. Harmless. But he couldn't change that initial reaction; it had been engrained into him. The brownrider also found it strange that she seemed to think the point of his comment was to belittle Rawign. No, Z'hin wasn't a harper, and didn't quite have that gift of clarity in speech, but he'd thought himself a generally straightforward person. The emphasis on the word 'candidate' had been meant to gently chastize the harper. Shame her a little bit - not enough to be embarrassing - into letting whatever beef she had with him go. Obviously, Z'hin could tell Rawign was a journeyman healer; the boy still wore those knots, just as Kalierre had when she was a candidate, something that was necessary as a healer. People had to know that particular skill was at your disposal. It was more important than playing the rank game everyone seemed so fond of. Even now, Kali didn't wear a weyrling's knots. The young man's lips tightened. He was tempted to walk off and leave Marra to her own devices. Instead, the swarthy Z'hin stated, dryly, "Yes. Almost as much gall as it takes for a harper to decline the help of two healers simply because of her pride, and then criticize a newcomer to the weyr, as if she had any right to say anything. You must be especially dim to think my humor was directed at Rawign."
"Z'hin. Marra. Enough." Kalierre's tone brooked no argument, though the voice that spoke it was soft and even. "You're wasting my time, which would be better served with the scored dragonless, by this pettiness." Her gaze flickered to Rawign, who seemed intent on fleeing. Who wouldn't be? Apparently the hatchlings were of some concern to him - understandable given what the northern weyrs were up to, something that Kalierre was unfortunately familiar with - and this bickering and nastiness from Marra and, to a lesser degree, Z'hin couldn't be helping matters. If you can't win him with honey...Sighing, she shook her head. "Look, Rawign, I'm sorry that you had to run into this attitude so early on. The truth of the matter is that I can use your help with this patient I'm supposed to see. Men outside their right minds can sometimes be a handful for me. I'd be grateful if you came along." Her eyes, though gentle, held his gaze with a firmness that tended to come out when she meant to have her way. Usually it was for someone else's benefit, but the fact remained that Kalierre could be unbearably stubborn at times. "And yes, it will become an order if I have to make it one."
The greenrider could easily pull rank on Rawign. She was his senior, a dragonhealer, and also a dragonrider. It was not typically her way, however, and she did not wish to force him. Kalierre honestly believed that the boy wanted to help out, even if he did seem rather shy and withdrawn. How else could he have become a healer? Besides which, it might reaffirm his place in the weyr if his skills could be put to use.
Z'hin felt his face color at Kalierre's chastisement. You feel funny, Mine, Jessereth stated, rather worriedly. The weyrling's gaze flickered to his bonded. I know. Don't worry, though. How is it going with Phremath? The brown snorted, irritated. Such a pain. How can anything have this much energy? The two hatchlings had made it to the water, Jessereth doing his best to avoid his clutchsibling's splashings as she made a game of trying to douse the brown. Z'hin stifled a laugh. Maybe it was good that someone was pushing Jessereth to play a bit. His dragon was already far too serious, given his age.
His smile was quirky, perhaps even just a bit apologetic, as he directed his statement to both Rawign and Marra. "Kali's right. I guess I'm just in a bit of a mood." A mood generated by a certain annoying harper - but Z'hin had the tact not to mention that little tidbit. "I hope you'll both forgive me."
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Post by Administrator on Oct 26, 2007 23:50:56 GMT -5
Marra caught the words that were so obviously directed at her. Shooting Rawign a fierce glare, not caring for the fact that she was eavesdropping herself, she resisted the strong urge to yell at him. No, to do so would be to step out of her socializing with Z'hin, which was impolite. Grinding her teeth, she jerked her eyes back over to the weyrling. Feeling her anger pulsating harder in her, she scowled. "It's only a scrape on my knee!" she snapped, her voice rising more than one would normally use in irritation. Her eyes narrowed in hatred for Z'hin. So. It was her he was mocking.
She ignored Kalierre. That woman had no need to involve herself in her business. Forcing up the defenses that had been there back before she had met Jenicey back at Harper Hall, her eyes moved from each of the three people standing there, fury consuming her. "I never asked any of you to help me, so get over it. Don't criticize me when you already know how I act. Believe me, it doesn't come as a surprise!" All of this was snapped, anger at perhaps something beyond the three people, directed at something invisible.
She gave one last look of irritation at Rawign before turning on her heel, walking away from them with a slight stiffness in her step where her knee still cause her discomfort. No matter; she could deal with it. As she said, she knew how to treat such trivial things as scrapes. Marra would return to her apartments and maybe rot their for a day or two, not wanting to have anything to do with people unless it was perform. And maybe not even that, she thought bitterly, depending if everyone had soured her up enough. Storming down the rocks to get to the beach, she realized a moment too late that her day was about to get worse. A wet mound of seaplants had washed up onto the rocks, the slippery kind that Marra had always known to be careful with before. Until now.
She screeched as her bare foot slid on the slimy stuff, sending her crashing down face-first into the pebbley bottom. Groaning, she slowly sat up onto her knees, wiping the sand from her face miserably. It had scratched her face a little, but it was nothing. Her scrape had been worse than her face was now. Rubbing it gingerly, she turned bright red as she realized that the people at the top must have seen her humiliating tumble. She clenched her fists into balls, disgusted with herself and at everything around her.
Not taking a moment to pause in an attempt to control her anger, her fist sent flying toward the rock that stood mockingly behind her. However, not keeping her anger in check caused more than rash decisions; the impact of her knuckles against stone jarred her hand violently, and she let out a low moan of pain. Slowly looking at her hand, she watched, as if in slow motion, blood started to well up from her knuckles that had been cut by the jagged stone. Her hand and her arm ached fiercely, making her flinch, and she cradled her arm limply, letting them rest before she would try moving them. Despite all of this, she was desperate to maintain her dignity, she bit her tongue and looked away from them bitterly.
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Post by glamourie on Oct 27, 2007 2:02:45 GMT -5
The brownrider's words drew Rawign's attention over to him and though he was able to hear everything he said, the seventeen-turn-old boy didn't quite believe him. Natural instinct had taught Rawign that people could not be trusted; at least, not unless he knew them decently well. It didn't matter whether or not the brownrider was on his side or not - which he did not believe he was - what mattered was more the implied insult and the fact that he was fairly sure it was intentional. He was a total pessimist and was completely under the belief that most of the Weyr did or would dislike him for some strange reason, most of which he couldn't even identify. Growing up in a warzone had made Rawign completely paranoid about other people.
Fortunately, he was not left to comment, no matter how much he was tempted, for Kalierre did so for him. Good, too, because he probably would have mentioned that Marra had fallen twice, not just once. Someone needed to teach the girl to walk. He didn't have a chance to run for the nearest tree, though, because her attention turned to him. The implication that she would order him around annoyed Rawign and it showed on his face for a brief moment, before he replied with a dry tone, "Asking was all that was needed, not a subtle threat." It wasn't meant to offend, just simple truth. All that any Healer - not just a Weyrling or a fellow journeyman; the same went for apprentices really - need do was ask his help and he'd give it, and that applied to others as well. If Marra had said her knee hurt, for example, and that she couldn't walk, Rawign probably would have carried her back to the Weyr, despite her insults. That was how he worked. Maybe it wasn't the most logical of behaviors, but it was him completely. "I would be honoured to assist in any way that I can."
His eyes flicked back to Z'hin and he nodded curtly, "There is no forgiveness necessary for no wrong done." At least not directly. Rawign was annoyed, more than he was willing to admit and part of it was at the brownrider, but he couldn't prove anything except that he was a paranoid wherrybrain when it came to dragonriders. Stating that he was insulted would not have done anything but generated more conflict and Rawign was non confrontational much of the time. But since he got the impression they were going to leave to deal with a dragonless man (the idea made Rawign shudder; in his experience, that was never very pleasant, and his experiences were limited to begin with), he decided to tack on, "Perhaps we'll have a chance to talk more in depth another ti--"
Whatever else he was going to say (no doubt an excuse to leave and deal with a patient) was cut off as Marra gave him an awful look which he responded to with a raised eyebrow. His trepidation had subsided some with the idea of leaving to deal with someone who was injured; they were less likely to annoy him and he always responded better to stress when he was in Healer mind. Whatever fear of the dragonets (even the mutated one) he may have possessed was washed away with a firm determination, and his eyes were no longer on his boots, no longer with a slightly reserved demeanor. Injured people brought out the confidence he felt in himself and his abilities. Throw him into the center of the war and he would have marched on unafraid if there was someone injured he could help. Let her glare at him, he had no feelings in regards to ---
--- her falling again. Three times! Three! Ridiculous! Three! Rawign smacked himself in the cheek with an audible slap of skin-on-skin before giving both Kalierre and Z'hin an apologetic look. However, no time was wasted in moving to the rocks and climbing down them with an agility that should not have been natural. Then again, hadn't he traveled to Healer Hall on foot by himself? What were rocks to that? She'd fallen on her face too. With any luck, smacking her head off some rocks might have jarred some sense into that thick skull of hers, though Rawign highly doubted it. He was betting that Marra was the kind of woman who listened about as well as Beggar when food was present.. in other words, not at all. Just as he reached the base of the rocks, she was punching one of them and he had to bite his tongue. It was so tempting to say something rude to her, something akin to "That'll teach it, that will."
He didn't ask how she was, though. "You need to get that hand checked out, and your knee, and probably your face as well, where you hit it," he said with an almost surreal calm. "There are two Healers here who can tell you what is needed, or you can go back to the Weyr to the infirmary. But those need checked soon." The unspoken reminder of his earlier statement regarding the rocks hung in the air. He was positive Marra would insist on going back to the Weyr, she seemed angry enough as it was, and that was just as well since he hadn't brought any supplies with him, really. Not that the injuries to her body were major, but they needed cleaning just the same. No, the major injuries were likely to her pride, and it served her right. Well, he didn't have time to deal with such an arrogant little girl anyway. (And he was still convinced she was around fourteen - with each word, his mental age for her regressed a Turn.) He was going to help Kalierre, wasn't he? Hmph. "The decision is yours, Harper Marra."
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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 Oct 27, 2007 16:21:10 GMT -5
The dragonhealer ignored Marra's outburst. She was used to ill tempers and bad tempraments. It really wasn't all that important to her, actually, that the harper stop her nonsense, but Kalierre didn't want to explode at anyone. She'd been a lot more testy lately given how little rest she'd been getting since the weyrling lessons started. Just dealing with Phremath on her own in addition to her healing duties would have been enough to wear her out; this was positively exhausting. When Marra began to storm off, she simply let the woman go, a soft smile coming to her features as Rawign seemed to stiffen when she mentioned ordering him to accompany her if she had to. That would have been much the same way that she would have reacted to such a statement. It got across her point, though. Nodding sagely at his comment, she heard Marra's outcry. What now?
Phremath was just in the midst of attempting to pounce Jessereth again when she saw the harper fall. A good thing for the brown hatchling, too, for she'd finally gotten lined up to nab him, falling short in surprise and sending a dragonet-sized splash in the air. Both of the hatchlings were out of the river in a moment. Like their riders, they were always concerned about others, though unlike them, they still had all the exuberance of younglings. The green with nubs for wings flew over the ground, an awkward, ungainly thing that would seem highly foolish, and yet her clawed feet met with rock each time. Phremath really was fairly nimble given her age. Of course, Jessereth followed much slower. He certainly wasn't going to trip himself up!
Fast as Phremath was taking the span between the river and the fallen human, Rawign arrived long before her, apparently too involved with Marra to notice the green streak barreling toward him until it was too late. As she'd done countless times with Kalierre - though, admittedly, the healer had been prepared for it - the green hatchling threw herself into Rawign to stop her momentum instead of slowing down, bouncing off him and whirling about in a circle until she stopped, landing firmly on her haunches. Her eyes whirled with concern. Are you alright? she bespoke the fallen girl with red scratches on her face.
The other three of the quartet converged upon the small huddle in the next few seconds, Kalierre shaking her head slightly. Phremath, you can't just run into people without telling them what it is you're doing. Before the dragonhealer could say anything to Marra - or even see if the girl was alright, Z'hin had bent and regarded the harper with an ungentle stare. "You have had no luck today, have you? Maybe you wouldn't trip all over yourself so much if you weren't blinded by anger." He glanced at the healers. "I'll take her to the infirmary. You've wasted enough time here as it is."
Though a little reluctant to leave someone hurting, Kalierre did have prior engagements. She hoped the green hatchling hadn't thrown Rawign off too horribly much. Phremath was just such an energetic little creature. Directing an apologetic smile to the journeyman, she stated, "I'm afraid Phremath is just a bit overzealous. Were you ready to go? We'll let Z'hin and Marra take the boat, so the harper can rest a bit." The green nuzzled up by Kalierre's hand, the dragonhealer scratching her bonded's snout absently. Was I bad? Kali shook her head. No, sweetheart. You just need to be more careful.
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Post by Administrator on Oct 29, 2007 12:28:02 GMT -5
Marra glared at Rawign with fierce intensity blazing in her angry blue eyes, as if she was blaming him for falling down so many times. As if the angry fire was in her whole head, her face was flushed with hot color in embarrassment. "I'm old enough to take care of myself, thanks!" she snapped, her voice rising. "I'm not a child." Carefully raising her hand, she looked at it. Then, out of some morbid curiosity, she bent her fingers to see how far they would go and how much pain it would cause. She flinched, staring down at her bleeding hand. Her pinky was fine, as was the lower joints of her ringfinger. However, moving the rest of her fingers hurt a lot more, and she grit her teeth and grabbed the rock with her other hand. "Shard it," she muttered. From her limited knowledge, she assumed nothing was broken- despite it being painful, she could move her fingers. However, she certainly was in no rush to attempt at moving them.
She nearly jumped in surprise as she heard something else in her head- something that made her wonder if she had hit her head too hard or not. Peering at Phremath curiously, Marra let her gruff tone soften ever-so-slightly. "Did she just talk to me?" she asked, her scowl not of anger, but of disbelief. Dragons didn't talk to her. Not even Kmarath really talked to her often. But perhaps dragonets were more outgoing...
Unfortunately, what may have been the subsiding of anger soon reversed itself at Z'hin's comment. "I never asked you your opinion on this subject, did I?" she demanded haughtily. "I'm not going to the sharding infirmary- I know how to take care of myself, weyrling!" At that, her lips thinned. She never used rank on anyone- what was going on with her? A journeyman was little above a weyrling, it was so, but Marra knew she had no right to say what she did. It reminded her of when she was young, when she got so angry at times that she said the most hateful things she could to people, only to regret it the instant it slid from her passionate tongue. Eyes betraying her regret, her pride instructed them to mask her feelings once more. "I-" she began, but decided against it. Bitterly she pulled herself up, letting her hand fall limply down her side. Hatred fueling a glare at Z'hin, she pulled in the coldest voice she could muster. "I don't need any help from you."
With her good hand, she brushed at the wet pebbles on her large shirt, the thin sleeves tugging at her wrists. At least she hadn't torn her shirt, she thought in relief. The one bright spot of her day. She liked this shirt. It was her fave--
Shard. Everything. Marra cursed inwardly at herself as she saw a giant tear in the side of her shirt from her fall. This was expensive material! She had saved up her earnings for a long time to get this at a gather that spring! Clenching her good fist, she said nothing, gritting her teeth and was half-tempted to punch the rock all over again. She couldn't sew well, and even if she could, it would be hard to have it still look flowy on that one side. Determined now to seek out Robika more than ever, Marra didn't even acknowledge the other people as she began to stagger off.
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Post by glamourie on Oct 30, 2007 2:03:33 GMT -5
Something heavy and large rammed into Rawign and sent him tumbling onto the ground, amidst the rocks and gravel of the water, his elbows slamming down into the lapping waves. For a split second, every emotion he felt was painted perfectly over his face: Shock at having fallen down and something unpredictable happening to him, very slight pain from his elbows, indignation and humiliation at people seeing him fall into the water that way, and raw, unabridged terror that had nothing to do with his ego and everything to do with the fact that a dragon just plowed right into him. He wasn't hurt; the little dragonet hadn't really hit him all that hard, but he was too surprised to stop himself from making a ridiculous splat, and he'd been afraid of dragons to start with. His heartbeat thudded and he felt sure everyone could hear it; he could feel his pulse at the back of his neck, his breathing halted in raw fear. And he did not recover immediately; rather, he pulled himself properly up, shaking just slightly as he wiped the gravel grains off his elbows and legs, his head turning downward completely in an attempt to mask his face. Shadows played over his features, hiding some of the fear as it dripped away slowly until lingering only in his eyes, with a blank face meant to appear impassive. But it didn't, and he couldn't undo the fact that everyone looking at him would have seen his problem in an instant. He hoped they ignored it.
Fortunately, Kalierre distracted him from taking his anger out on Marra (for he would not have dared even speak to the green dragon if he could help it) and he turned back to the Journeywoman healer. His heartbeat was finally slowing to a somewhat normal pace, the shaking subsided somewhat. How pathetic he must have looked, showing his fear of the wingless creature. He wanted so badly to get completely over that; how was he supposed to survive at a Weyr when even the smallest dragons frightened him? But pride prevented him from asking anyone for help; pride and ignorance. He didn't know enough people to feel comfortable asking anyone to help him relax around dragons and he didn't know any of the Weyrlings well.
If Marra got any more rude, someone would end up slapping that smugness from her face. But it wouldn't be him. Rawign turned his attention completely to Kalierre and blocked out the sounds of the Harper; he wasn't in the mood to listen to anything she said anymore, not with fear making breathing more of a chore than he was used to. "Phremath and you owe no apologies; I'm unharmed, and she looks to be unharmed... aside from pride injuries and a wet backside, I don't have any complaints." He gave a shaky smile to the little dragonet, trying to think of her as more of an overgrown firelizard rather than one of those terrible beasts from the north. Dragons at Selenitas were different. Different. DIFFERENT. They weren't going to hurt him. He didn't do anything to merit hurting. He was just a lowly healer that no one needed to notice. And the green was just a baby; she hadn't meant to scare him, she'd just been overexcited. Right? Right. So why didn't he feel half as reassured as he thought he should? "But yes, I'm ready to go... and I don't mind a walk; it might help me to memorize my way better..."
And it wouldn't do for a certain Healer to fall down again. Odds were, if her recent behavior was anything to judge by, she might break her head open on something on her way back. Rawign did not point that out, though, instead glancing at the dragonet again. Overgrown firelizard. Smarter, but, overgrown firelizard. No more dangerous than a green firelizard was, not likely to try and burn him or claw him or do something terrible. She was not likely to hurt him. Like a mantra, he repeated that in his mind, hoping that it would sink in. But the fact that the dragonet had no wings was a deterrent. She looked so... strange. In a way, though, it was also sort of cute. Looking at her nuzzling at Kalierre's hand, it was hard to think of her as a monster, despite his initial reaction. While he was not eager to run up and touch her, there was a certain fascination he found growing with Phremath... and Jessereth, but the green held his eye more than the brown. After all, the brown hadn't gone barreling into him.
He glanced over his shoulder at Z'hin and the brown dragonet, despite, and gave them both a nod. "It was nice meeting you both. And you, Harper Marra." The last part was added for the sake of manners but really he could have done without the rude girl. He didn't want to say that aloud, though he was sure she'd picked up on it. Harpers were supposed to be smart. But the farewell struck him as final enough that he turned back to Kalierre so she could lead 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 Oct 31, 2007 0:14:10 GMT -5
Kalierre had been just about to reply to Marra's question in the affirmative when the harper started in on Z'hin. She mentally shrugged. Even Phremath couldn't seem to get through to the enraged girl. How could anyone not calm down with that sweet voice echoing in their mind? It seemed impossible. The dragonhealer had kept her gaze from Rawign out of courtesy until she felt he'd had enough time to recover. It hadn't escaped her notice how nervous he was around the hatchlings in the beginning, and she wasn't going to embarrass him by obviously bearing witness to his stark fear of Phremath. He'd have to get over this eventually. She wouldn't scold the wingless green for being friendly...that was just ludicrous. Although her bonded certainly didn't need to be knocking people over willy-nilly. You have to promise not to bounce off other people, Phremath. The green looked up at Kali regretfully. I'm sorry. Then, to the boy, Don't be mad! You weren't supposed to fall down... Her tone was plaintive.
It seemed that Phremath had picked up her rider's penchant for getting into the heads of other creatures. Just as Kalierre talked to most any dragon, given enough reason, the hatchling was much quicker to communicate with people other than her rider than the average dragon. It also seemed that the green dragonet was completely oblivious to Rawign's discomfort. As soon as the two healers began walking, Phremath clamped her sharp teeth down on Kalierre's hand, pulling her rider with her as she pressed against the journeyman. It was a Phremath sandwich! Only then did the hatchling let hers go, her gaze one of yearning as she looked up at the boy.
The dragonhealer shrugged apologetically. "She seems to want your attention, Rawign. She's always loved to be scratched behind the eyeridges..." In truth, Kalierre thought it couldn't hurt for the journeyman to have some pleasant contact with her little jewel. Maybe it would help him get over his fear; Phremath certainly was a sweet, if spunky, little thing. Her hand resting lightly on one of the green's nubs, the dragonhealer immediately transitioned into the few details she knew about the patient they were going to see. "Apparently he's a recent dragonless. His brown was lost to another dragon's flame in the war." Kalierre didn't have to comment on the fact that brownriders typically had the strongest of the dragon bonds, and were known to be the most extreme in their behaviors once that bond was severed. It was just the nature of a brown that created this problem; they were extremely loyal to the few they bothered to care about and be around. "He's got some pretty bad burns himself. There's a bit of preliminary treatment, but no one's been able to touch him since he regained consciousness. The burns are festering."
***
Z'hin had frozen when Marra snapped at him. Perhaps it was the way she'd said weyrling, so reminiscent of the self-righteous tones he'd heard countless times as part of a holdless family, but regardless of the reason, he found himself on the verge of rage. For a man who typically wasn't very emotional, it was a bit frightening to find himself in this position, where he wanted nothing more than to strike out at the girl. Who was she to pull this self-important crap on him? Marra couldn't even walk straight, for Faranth's sake!
Rawign's goodbye snapped him out of it. With a half-hearted smile, he waved to the two healers. Then he merely watched the harper's slow progress for awhile. Well? Jessereth prompted. Well what? How long are you going to wait before you go after her? She'll probably just slip again. Trust Jessereth to know his desire better than he did. From the beginning, the two had known an abnormally strong bond. Muttering several not so very nice things beneath his breath, the brownweyrling stomped off after Marra, his trusty Jessereth trailing behind by no more than a foot. It wasn't difficult to catch up to her; she wasn't moving very fast, and seemed to be preoccupied with something else.
Z'hin didn't even bother talking to the girl. It had done him absolutely no good in the past, anyway. He bent, threw the small though solid harper over a broad shoulder so that her upper half was draped over his back as his arm settled firmly around her upper thighs to keep her from slipping down or being too successful in any kicks she might direct his way, and began to march toward the boat. He never uttered a single word as his sure, bare feet gripped the slippery stones. She was going to the infirmary whether she wanted to or not. It was his duty, in a way, though he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy getting a chance to simply manhandle the annoying girl. Talk to him like he was filth, would she? Well, this filth was more than capable of doing whatever he wanted with Marra, so there.
Immature, much? Z'hin pointedly ignored Jess. Upon reaching the boat, he lowered the girl onto one of the benches, the brown immediately coming to recline across her lap. Jessereth knew Z'hin didn't want her going anywhere, but he was careful to avoid putting too much weight on her hurt leg. "Sit," the brownweyrling growled, belatedly. He took up the oars and began rowing, the massive muscles in his chest rippling beneath the damp material of his tunic. "Much as I relish watching you make a fool of yourself again and again, I don't want to be responsible for you spilling all the brains out of your pretty little harpy head. Not that there's enough to make a decent mess out of."
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Post by Administrator on Nov 2, 2007 19:34:59 GMT -5
Marra didn't respond to Rawign's farewell. She was too busy trying to nurse her injured hand and pride, and Rawign was not the person she wanted to see. Irritable, she stomped off as hard as she dared- until she was stopped so suddenly that she shrieked in surprise and defiance. "Let go!" she hollered, pounding Z'hin's back as he flung her carelessly over his shoulder, even with her bad hand. She flinched, but didn't stop, instead putting twice the energy into her good hand. Wriggling desperately, she looked out back at Rawign and Kalierre, still determined to hold onto her dignity by glaring at the pair. There was no reason behind it, but she needed to prove somehow that she was strong, despite the fact that this brown weyrlingrider had her dangling over his shoulder like a ragdoll.
"Don't touch me like that!" she snapped, furious that his arms were so high up on her thighs. Twisting as hard as she could, it was all to no avail. The blood rushed to her upside-down head, and she felt the bun on her head slide forward. Irritated, she shook it, letting the hair band drop. Messy brown locks tumbled over her head in a flood, but at least it made her head feel under less pressure. Not even given the satisfaction of being able to give Z'hin a dirty look, she miserable was carried down to the boats.
Stormy eyes flickering, she tried planning her next escape. What on Pern was she going to do now? She hated the infirmary. The musty smell bothered the harper, and she was not prepared to let Z'hin have the satisfaction of taking her to a place so loathed. She started to get up as she was placed down, she groaned as Jessereth placed himself on her. Marra had not a clue as to how to get the baby dragon off of her without hurting him, but she couldn't let herself be dragged away by this stupid rider.
"Had I wanted your opinion of whether or not I'm smart, I would have asked. But rest assured, had I injured myself, I'm not stupid enough to pin the blame on your pretty-boy face. I can acknowledge my own fumbling," she snapped. Watching him carefully as he began rowing, she took note of the muscles. Not one for noticing if something looked good on another person, all she took from seeing them was how he was probably strong. Capable of lifting her, and could probably beat her to a pulp in a heartbeat. Yet she doubted he'd use his strength for that, she concluded drolly. From the way he had restrained himself at her insult, the most she would be beaten with from him was by a few chosen words.
"I know why you're doing this," she commented with strange calm. This was her own way of striking out, applying her own personal philosophy to the weyrling. It certainly worked in this case, further adding to the proof of her ideas. "You know and have witnesses to the fact that I insulted you, so you're trying to be the good hero of the day and taking me to the infirmary to prove your maturity in contrast to my own supposed immaturity." Running a hand through her curly locks, she narrowed her eyes. "The perfect example of selfish human behavior. Willing to do whatever it takes to make you look good even if it involves casting another into the shadows in the process. Well," she finally said, dipping her calloused hand into the water, "I can't let the spoiled child get his sweets all the time. I'm afraid I'm not going to let you have that satisfaction." With that, Marra pulled herself gently from under Jessereth, standing casually as if going to sit down. However, rather than sitting, Marra flung herself over the edge of the boat, into the water that was frigid in the warm sun.
Chewing her lip so as not to cry out, she pulled herself slowly through the water with her good hand. Her other was too stiff to want to move, and it throbbed in the cold water. Her shirt was beyond repair now, she figured, but at least she had gotten away from the stupid, big-headed weyrling. Wishing she had the material to make a new shirt, she grumpily swam at a snail's pace to get back to shore. It was freezing, and she wouldn't be in a good mood at all when she reached shore, but it was certainly better than being in the blasted infirmary with the selfish, big-headed man. No, he wouldn't have the satisfaction of bending her to his will, that was for sure!
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Post by glamourie on Nov 2, 2007 20:30:09 GMT -5
Did -- did it speak to him? Rawign blinked twice, giving the dragon an inquisitive look before glancing back up at Kalierre. He'd never had a dragon speak to him like that before. They sounded so... human. He wasn't mad in the first place, but if he had been, whatever anger would have subsided at the tone the little dragonet used. She sounded so ... well, he felt guilty for even being slightly intimidated by her, though he gave no voice to that thought. It wouldn't be fair for him to hold a grudge. She was a baby - and babies made mistakes. Right? How many toddlers had he seen knock things over without realizing it? True, toddlers didn't have wicked claws, but they were still babies, and so was the dragonet.
"I'm not angry with you," he replied cautiously, not sure if she'd understand him or not. It seemed likely she would... "Accidents happen and they are no one's fault. It would be terribly unfair for me to be angry with you over an accident... Phremath."
Was it normal for Weyrlings to talk to other people that way? Rawign wanted, so badly, to ask. If he was ever to get over his fear of dragons, it was likely that the Weyrlings would be helpful to that. They weren't as large or deadly as their full-grown cousins, and if they talked to people as much as the wingless green did, maybe they were a lot more friendly, too. It was a long-shot, but Rawign was okay with trying to make friends with a dragon that couldn't fly after him if he annoyed her. He'd work his way up to the ones that could eat people with one smooth bite. At least his words were true. He felt dreadful for upsetting the dragon, or at least, making her use that tone. Guilt was a many-splendered thing. His eyebrows raised as they started forward and he turned to watch the little dragon situation herself between the two of them. His heartbeat raced for a split second. Fear was not something that a person got over immediately. But he didn't back away or run and he considered that an accomplishment.
Much of that stemmed from the fact that he could distantly hear Marra, still fussing. Honestly, what was her problem? Was she always so easily agitated? He didn't think he'd done anything that horrible. Maybe, once his temper subsided, he'd go back and apologize. He didn't want to make anyone feel bad, even someone so terribly rude.
Speaking of rude, he was being so. He was more listening to Marra behind them than Kalierre, and he glanced up as soon as he realized it. The dragon liked being scratched behind her eye ridges? She was.. asking him to touch it? It was a wonder he hadn't run away. But to refuse would be more than rude, it would be insulting, and he didn't want to come across as wrong. Was there some kind of special way for scratching dragonets, or was it just normal rubbing the skin? He decided to treat Phremath the same way he did Beggar; somewhere between gentle and firm. Dragons and firelizards weren't so different, were they? And on the subject, just where had that blue gone?!
"Uhm, okay." That was the only verbal response he offered before dropping his hand to lightly rub the back of the dragonet's eyeridges. He was afraid of being too rough. Some of the Weyrlings looked so fragile and he was actually worried about hurting them. They were babies - not adults - and he had to be more considerate, right? Well, if he was too rough, Kalierre would probably tell him. Or Phremath would bite his hand off. Either way, he'd find out.
Fortunately, the other Healer took to explaining the situation with the dragonless man and that chased away most of his hesitation. He didn't even realize his fingers were on the smooth, somehow soft yet firm hide of the dragonet between the two of them. Dragonless patients were the worst to his knowledge and part of him cringed away. He didn't know enough about dragons to know how bad it was, but if it was anything like firelizards (or more intense as he was led to believe), the poor man was probably more than just out of his wits. No wonder she'd asked for help. They'd need one person to talk to him and distract him while the other treated him, or so it seemed. From the demeanor she held, he was betting Kalierre would be the one talking. She was surprisingly disarming. Festering burns, yuck. They tended to ooze. But those weren't half as bad as having to witness someone lost in hysteria. He frowned and wondered whether or not it was harder on the Journeywoman to treat the dragonless since she Impressed Phremath. He was betting that it was, and the answer to that question was absolutely none of his business.
Somewhere behind him, he heard a splash. But Rawign tuned the sound out, focusing more on the patient before asking, very quietly, "What is his name?" It was not usually a good idea to ask that, in his experience, but he couldn't stop himself. From what he'd learned, it was easier to treat severely wounded patients when they were just gobs of meat, not individuals with a family and feelings. Perhaps that was cruel, but as long as he could think of them as separated, it hurt less to watch them suffer. He suspected, though, that nothing was going to detract from how painful it was going to be to deal with a delirious burn-patient who was recently dragonless. Best not to try and prevent it.
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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 Nov 3, 2007 23:38:48 GMT -5
Z'hin allowed himself the simple pleasure of rowing, ignoring the harper's glare. She was kind of pretty. In a dishevelled, angry 'I'm going to string you up by your genitals' sort of way. He was a man, after all, and men noticed such things, though it was not to say that he had any true interest in Marra beyond getting her to the infirmary to make sure she hadn't hurt herself too badly. A fracture was possible, given the amount of tumbles she'd taken, and torn ligaments were such a pain to deal with; they were rarely caught in time, and the offending appendage never worked quite the same again.
A brow quirked up at her comment. What was this about blaming him? Oh. Right. No one would blame him for letting this harpy go off on her own - no one aside from himself, that was. Z'hin just let her assume what she wanted; it did more for the tough persona he was trying to portray at the moment. Marra obviously had no respect for simple courtesy. The hard-handed approach, though, was not something he was used to, and the brownweyrling wasn't entirely sure it would work any better.
Z'hin actually found himself smirking at the harper. A kind of strange expression on his face, but he simply couldn't believe how smug she sounded, when she was so dead wrong. The mature thing for him to have done would have been to persuade her to allow someone to accompany her back to wherever she wanted to go in the weyr. There was nothing mature about abducting a woman for the sheer pleasure of demonstrating your dominance over her. Why would he care about his image? He didn't care about people beyond his small circle of influence, anyway, and they wouldn't change their opinion of him regardless of what he did in this situation. It was too small a thing. Again, he maintained his silence. Though his eyes narrowed as she began to squirm out from beneath Jessereth.
Not once breaking rhythm, he shook his head as she went into the water. What? Now she though she could swim faster than he could manuever the boat? Unlikely. He took his good, sweet time turning about the prow, the strokes never once shifting speed. The timing worked out perfectly. Marra was just a few strokes from shore - her injury obviously making it difficult on her - when Z'hin pulled up alongside. He looked down at her for a moment, expression blank. Then, reaching out, he caught her beneath the arm and levered her bodily into the boat.
"Now you're going to add pneumonia to your growing list of ailments?" he questioned wryly. The weyrling tossed his tunic at her. At least it was dry. "Look, we can do this all day, but I don't mean to let you walk off by yourself. You barely made it to the shore. I really don't care if you go to the infirmary or not, either. Shard-blasted place. Just put aside your mule-headedness for a little while longer and let's see if we can't get you into Selenitas. Okay?" Then he shot a wry grin at her. "Oh, and you're wrong, by the way. I just liked the idea of throwing you in with all those healers and letting them smother you to death. Kali's a decent sort, but most are hypocritical cretins. Give me the credit due me; I'm sadistic, not selfish."
***
He'd said her na-ame! He'd said her na-ame! Kali rolled her eyes at Phremath, but the wingless green affected not to notice. She was such an affectionate, sweet thing. The center of the Phremath sandwich bobbed a little as they walked, that boundless energy of hers making her bouncy, the small thing generally ignoring the somber direction in which the conversation had turned. It was simply Phremath's way. She'd seen a lot of pain since the hatching, at her bonded's side, and though the green was quite sympathetic it didn't seem to faze her indomitable spirit.
At his touch, Phremath pushed up into his hand, pressing a little tighter into Rawign's side as she crooned happily. It wasn't quite like Mine did it, but she still liked the sensation. That feels good, Mr! Of course, good as it felt, it couldn't keep Phremath's attention forever. It wasn't long before the hatchling pulled away from the two humans, darting along the bank in pursuit of bugs, shiny objects and pretty stones. Kalierre watched her dragon carefully, though she listened to Rawign's question. Not too talkative, was he? A strange question for the journeyman to ask. Kali made it a point to know the names and histories of her patients, but she didn't often discuss that with other healers, as many seemed to find it easier not to know.
The woman turned her scrutinizing gaze on the boy for a moment, before directing her attention back to the gamboling Phremath. "J'vier. Javier, now. He's awfully young." She'd seen him, briefly, upon his arrival at Selenitas, but there had been other matters that needed her more immediate attention. Javier couldn't be more than a few turns older than she herself. The thought of him having lost his dragon at this age - it frankly shook her, if she let herself dwell upon it long enough, which she made a point not to. Trenlor would have been the more obvious choice for this visit. Would have, save that the dragonless dragonhealer was even less understanding than someone who had never experienced that pain - to Kali, it seemed that anything that reminded the man of what he'd had drew out the worst in him.
The woman had waxed into thoughtful silence. She was one of those people who either seemed to talk a lot, or not at all. They were approaching the quarters of the northern refugees, now, and Kalierre felt the need to go through all the details in her mind, shoring herself up for the coming scene. Even Phremath seemed to have finally caught the solemn air; the small green was again at Kali's side, walking rather sedately. The dragonhealer nodded to the man outside the door. Already she could hear the wordless raging going on inside.
She pushed the door open gently, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the room - only to duck as something large shrilled through the air and crashed into the doorpost where her head had just been, shattering into countless fragments. Kalierre didn't flinch as she felt a few bite her cheek and arm. The smell of rotting flesh assailed her almost physically, her experience doing little against the shock of that ghastly stench; she had to carefully control her gag reflex, and even then the woman was forced to hold still for a moment longer, simply breathing in the foul air and willing her expression not to change.
Kalierre then stepped into Javier's hell.
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Post by Administrator on Nov 5, 2007 22:49:53 GMT -5
Marra flailed the instant she saw Z'hin turn that boat around- and leisurely begin a course towards her. Leisurely?! she thought in rage. He was taking his time deliberately, seeming to do it just for the sake of pissing her off. Well, she would have none of that! With even more fire, Marra struggled to swim as fast as she could. However, she seemed to know that he would catch her before she could reach the shore, so it came as no shock as he came up next to her. Kicking her feet as fast as she could, through the pain, she struggled to get away, but to no avail. One muscular arm grabbed her with ease, and Marra felt the burning sensation of water travelling up her nasal cavity.
"Let go!" she gurgled, her mouth taking in so much water that her words were unintelligible. Wrestling as hard as she dared in the water, it was of no use. Completely wet, she tumbled into the boat like a lifeless ragdoll, her dripping form likening to a feline after being bathed. Shivering slightly as the air rippled across the cold water that was drying on her body, she glared up at Z'hin.
"I am not going to catch pneumonia. I've been swimming before, and have never caught pneumonia from doing that," she retorted, but took his shirt nevertheless. Her bitter eyes noted the brown weyrling's shirtless form, but she didn't comment. She was too innocent, one would suppose, to truly care about that sort of thing. Pulling it over her own wet garments, she huddled in the floor of the boat, sitting in the puddle her dripping body had made. Pausing, she pulled the wet, ruined shirt from under the dry tunic, knowing from experience that keeping the cold wet close to your body was the quick way to hypothermia. And with today's luck, she didn't doubt it would happen. Carelessly lumping it into a ball and tossing it beside her, she scowled. That shirt had been expensive, and now it was in a ball, wet, ripped, in a boat. Snaps for Marra.
"It warms my heart to know that a sadist is rowing the boat," she told him dryly. "Are you going to toss me in next yourself, or are you just going to spit up enough venom to make me slit my wrists with my own fingernail?" she asked him, rolling her eyes. Pulling the tunic more tightly around her form, she regarded him with obvious irritation. Still suspicious, she demanded, "So, tell me. Where in Selenitas are you taking me?" If it was the infirmary, she would jump out of that boat again, and that unspoken threat wasn't empty. Her eyes narrowed at him.
Absently, she touched Jessereth, drawn by the softness of the brown hide. It just looked so soft, and she felt like a weyrbrat who wanted to desperately to touch a nice-looking object. She knew how a dragon's hide felt, yes, but it was like a drug. She simply wanted as much of it as she could get. Did this little one know what a stubborn ass he had Impressed? she wondered vaguely. Though, she supposed, all men were like that. She certainly was able to tell that Rawign was, and so was Z'hin. Decided it must be a pattern with men, she sighed. Stupid males.
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Post by glamourie on Nov 6, 2007 1:11:09 GMT -5
Rawign blinked, twice. Mister. He rarely got called that. Something about it was completely charming, though, and he couldn't help but smile, weakly, despite it all. Somehow, he got the feeling that the little green dragon had a talent for charming her way into the most frigid of hearts, and that thought was merely emphasized as the hatchling ran off ahead, presumably chasing after some of the bugs that scattered as she darted ahead. His arms moved to wrap around his lower stomach, but it wasn't so much based on insecurity anymore as mere thought... though, really, there was an edge of concern lacing through him. While he'd treated different people before, he was a brand new Journeyman and hadn't had much experience with patients on his own. This one wouldn't be on his own but talk about something nasty to start out with... and the explanation Kalierre offered (former brownrider) hadn't helped reassure him much. But his own concerns were shunted back to the back of his mind for another time.
Frankly, he was actually glad to hear the dragonless man was young. The older he was, the more close the bond between rider and dragon likely would have been. It was going to be hard enough without that, really, and if he'd been older, Rawign probably would have thought it more merciful to let him go. He didn't like death, but he liked people living on in misery even less. That was another thought he never shared with anyone, though. But young - that had potential, it meant he might be able to recover. He'd probably never be okay, but still...
As they approached, all of his worst fears were confirmed and he followed Kalierre in silence. He'd let her lead because it was her show, she knew what she was doing more than he did. Outside the door, he stopped long enough to glance at her and whisper, "You tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it." In other words, he'd follow her every instruction to the letter. He was good enough at taking initiative, but there was a strong chance that his lack of experience could make things worse, and that was the last thing anyone needed. For a brief moment, he was glad Beggar was gone, as a firelizard couldn't possibly help someone who was suffering so very much and the sounds he heard alluded to nightmares he could only begin to imagine, and even then he didn't want to. Smells, sounds, sensations, all of it was enough to make him force his mind onto one task.
Sometimes, it was easier to dissociate when dealing with severely injured people than it was to face it head on. Not dissociating could completely drive a person mad. And all it took was the smell of burnt flesh (which made him recoil just slightly and only for a split second before he could compose himself, but the reaction was visible) to make Rawign very glad he was good at distancing himself from things... He bit his tongue, swallowed, steeled his nerves and followed Kalierre inside with his heartbeat on the back of his tongue. Just because he could distance himself didn't chase away the anguish and regret that seeing victims always brought.
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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 Nov 12, 2007 13:26:07 GMT -5
By the egg, she never stopped arguing, did she? The woman must be menstruating. Either that, or she was always like this, making it a wonder that the people around her hadn't jumped off the nearest cliff. She's not that bad, Mine. Z'hin sent a quelling glare at his lifemate, the boat almost jumping along as the force of his irritation was put behind the oars. I suppose I'd think that, too, if she was petting me. Then he chuckled. Petting him? Okay, he hadn't exactly meant it like that, as he was just trying to point out that Jessereth was enjoying Marra's attentions and could hardly be counted on as an impartial party. That didn't take away from the fact that the thought had still been rather humorous. Z'hin had a hard time imagining Marra 'petting' anyone.
He smiled back at the harper, humorlessly. For a holdless man, Z'hin had a pretty sharp tongue himself, and he didn't hesitate to use it. "At least you know my arms are occupied, journeyman. I'd love to see you slit your wrists. I really would. Unfortunately, I'm sure you've produced enough venom in your lifetime to become quite immune to mine. A shame, really." If he were honest, he kind of enjoyed the verbal sparring. The brownweyrling didn't really desire her death. Maybe her silence. Or a word that wasn't bitter or nasty. Ah, but that was surely asking too much, at least from Marra. Though, at her question, the man merely shrugged. "Wherever you want to go."
Maybe that was a mistake. Oh well. Too late to change it now. Jessereth, apparently oblivious to his bonded's annoyance, pressed into Marra's hand. He didn't croon, but the becalmed blue-green of his multi-faceted eyes was enough to make Z'hin shake his head with disgust. "Jess. You're a shard-blasted traitor," he commented, his good humor having returned. His eyes went to Marra's face, flashing with amusement. The brownweyrling really wasn't one for holding grudges or staying angry very long. She'd struck a never earlier. Yes. The rest of this was not unlike the stuff he normally fielded.
"Anywhere you want, Marra. Anywhere at all, so long as you promise to leave this lout with me." He nudged the brown hatchling with a bare foot, the which Jessereth caught in his mouth with a growl. If you don't start calling me Jessereth, HinMine... What? You'll slobber me to death? The man wriggled his leg, laughing as his bonded attempted to hold on without hurting him, the brown's wings flaring out for balance and hitting the harper here and there. I'll eat you, that's what! Good luck with that, Jess.
Of course that was the last straw. Z'hin suddenly found a solid ball of scales in his chest, the man letting out a yelp before he hit the bottom of the boat, his shoulders striking the edge, and then he was over the side. The dragonpair wrestled with each other in the water for a few moments. Then Jessereth had managed to wrap around the swarthy lad, his tail coiled around Z'hin's waist as he gnawed playfully at the man's wrist, growling all the while. The weyrling laughed. "Okay, okay. I'll call you Jessereth. Now why don't you go back to your girlfriend, eh?"
Z'hin flopped back into the boat, the vessel rocking slightly as he heaved his partner in after him. The brown immediately went to Marra. He did it more to bother his bonded than anything else, but her attentions really had been nice. He didn't seem to notice he was getting the journeyman all wet.
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