First Queen Meeting Interrupted (Paryal, S'rei)

[Administrator]

“Paryal?” Shmee walked into the doorway gracefully, holding tea, exaggerating her expanding stomach. Recently, she had taken to wearing tight clothes to show off her lovely bulge, however little it may be. That bulge might partly be the sweet cream she had added to her diet, but either way, it was something Shmee was priding herself on. Leaning against the doorway, she looked curiously over at the weyrling. “I’ve already spoken with Kaegan, but I was wondering when you would be free for some queenriding lessons?” She sipped her tea thoughtfully. It was her second cup, taken for a small stomachache. Probably just morning sickness haunting her. Not unusual, of course.

For now, Paryal had probably been able to glean what she could from the normal weyrling lessons, but there were some things the Weyrlingmaster didn’t teach. Like blooding kills, like dealing with broody queens, like running a Weyr… She felt slightly bad, though. She hadn’t paid too much attention to Paryal lately, being too busy with her plans in trying to oust C’leon and get the holds on her side, as well as organize a spy team and learning self-defense. Getting some one-on-one time with Paryal was simply difficult to accomplish. Kaegan, too, had suffered from the same problem. Hoping Paryal held no grudge against her, she sipped her tea. It was almost gone. “These meetings won’t be regular, but I think it should best happen when the weyrlings are learning about similar things. Like for when they’re firestoning, I can teach you how to use a flamethrower. When they’re talking about Flights, I’ll give you the talk on queenrider Flights. But the first one, I think, should be on how to exercise power… just so Aezanth doesn’t get too happy with telling people what to do.”

She laughed nervously, but that ended quickly. She felt rather… strange. She frowned, dropping her cup of tea to the ground, oblivious that it cracked as it splintered on the wooden floor. Something was wrong… Gripping the side of the door, she slid to her knees, her knuckles turning white as she held onto the doorframe. Her stomach hurt. Was this morning sickness again? She hadn’t had it in a while- she had passed the first trimester, not to mention that it never hurt like this. A shudder went through her stomach, and she was seized by a horrible cramp.

At this, Shmee screamed, clutching her stomach as she shook uncontrollably on the floor. She closed her eyes, squeezing them as hard as she could to try and avoid the pain that was wracking her small frame. This awakened Aslath, who was curled protectively around her clutch. The golden dragon bugled in distress. Salenth, get yours! Shmee’s clutch![/color] were the only audible words that the bronze would be able to make out.

Thiswasonlymorningsicknessthiswasonlymorningsickness… Desperately, Shmee reached out for her cup as sweat poured down her small face. It was shattered on the floor, but surely there was enough to calm her somehow… Reaching for a shard, she looked down at it feverishly, and paled as she saw a white powder, unnoticed before, lingering along the edges of her tea. A drug…?

Realization hit at the same moment another cramp took over. Forgetting that Paryal was in the room, she screamed in terror as she realized what this drug meant to do. “S’rei!!” she screamed, and at that moment, the awful truth that this was over became clear as she felt a warm liquid slide down her legs in almost malicious slowness. Shaking harder than ever, Shmee tried pulling herself off, feverish and in denial of what was happening to her. Managing to get to her feet for a moment, the bloodstain that was growing in her pants was visible, the awful truth at last overcoming the Weyrwoman. She looked up at Paryal, with wide eyes, fear and the knowledge of this shining in her watering eyes.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen! Shmee brought a hand to her face as she sank back down, unable to hold her weight up any longer. Her face was so hot… Salty sweat glistened on her fingers as she looked down at it. Was she going to die to? Just as well she leave with the babe! She let out a sob, the amount of blood increasing before passing out as sweat and blood saturated the woman’s body, blissful oblivion taking hold even as Aslath fought for her rider to remain conscious.[/size]

[paryal]

Paryal looked up from the small desk her room contained. On it, Misrah was playing with a piece of leather she had been dragging back and forth, behaving for all the world like a kitten. He batted at it with apparent joy, eyes whirling a rainbow of hues. From her clearly superior post on Paryal's bed, Fairamay watched. She hated this new brown intruder into her bonded's previously all female bonds. Males weren't worth it. Why was hers paying so much attention to this brown interloper? He was even too small to be a proper brown. But it was clear Paryal was entranced with the little brown Misrah, who was equally in love with his rider. Aezanth didn't seem to mind the brown much, though she was quick to reprimand Paryal if her rider should forget to take care of her dragon.

Looking up to Shmee, Paryal raised one eyebrow. She didn't like this woman much at all. A quick glance at the Weyrwoman confirmed the rumors of pregnancy was true. Why was she making the fact she was fat all the more obvious though? Pregnancy was disgusting. Children were disgusting. Paryal would have none of THAT, thank you very much. "Yes, I am free." Obviously she was. If there wasn't a Weyrling lesson happening, Paryal had nothing more to do than strengthen her bond with Aezanth, Misrah, and Fairamay. But why now? Why totally ignore her and suddenly decide that Paryal was worth the attention? Anger bubbled up in Paryal, though she tried her best to hide it on her face, her expression carefully neutral.

Listening to what Shmee said her lessons would contain, Paryal nodded absently once or twice. "Aezanth is already fully capable of listening to me, and she would listen to Aslath. I don't see why she would need to listen to anyone else." There was no reason for Aezanth to listen to Milleth, and her rank was superior to all other dragons in the Weyr. Besides, it would be impossible to change Aezanth's very personality, which demanded that everyone respect her and worship her as the little gold dragon she was. "I have been dealing with that myself quite capably." Without the guidance of the Weyrwoman for those crucial first few months, it had largely been trial and error as Paryal had experimented with getting Aezanth to listen to her, and to understand that Aslath had rank over herself. The anger that Paryal had been holding back came into her tone then. How dare Shmee presume to even attempt to be friends with her after that?

Suddenly, Shmee dropped the cup of tea she was holding. Shard it! What was that stupid woman doing? It would be Paryal's duty to clean up all those little shards of glass before Aezanth stepped on it. But then Shmee doubled over, screaming in pain. What was wrong? Despite her hatred of the woman, Paryal was concerned, rushing over to Shmee's side. From the way she clutched her stomach, it was obvious it was a problem with the babe. Well, miscarriages weren't uncommon for women. In fact, most would have one at some point in their life. It was unfortunate that Shmee would have one now, on Paryal's floor. They would need a Healer, some small, detached part of her mind said. But Shmee couldn't be moved, and leaving the woman could mean her death.

Tearing the sheets from her bed and dislodging Fairamay, Paryal bent over by Shmee. "Stay concious. You are losing the child. That in itself is not unnatural." Not noticing the poison cup, Paryal proceeded to shove the sheets between Paryal's legs. What is wrong with Aslath's rider mine? Watching in horror at the spreading pool of blood, Aezanth shifted, her eyes starting to whirl orange. She is losing her child. Please call Phremath and her rider. It was amazing that Paryal could be so calm in an emergency, but it was unlikely Shmee would die from this. With the sheets stemming much of the blood flow, she would probably hold off until Kalierre came. Phremath, we require your rider. Shmee is losing her baby. Aezanth was more high strung than her rider, and growing increasingly uncomfortable. Fairamay had taken to the air, shrieking, while Misrah was trying to hide in Paryal's hair. It was a scene of chaos, save the gold Weyrling in the middle, holding sheets to Shmee's blood.

[Requiem]

S'rei sighed, rubbing at his chin, booted feet resting lightly on the top of the desk as he tilted back in his chair. He must say that he enjoyed these brief hours spent away from Shmee and her pregnant mood swings, away from Aslath and her over-protectiveness toward her clutch. The Weyrleaders' weyr - currently vacated by the weyrmates during the night hours due to the clutch on the sands - had been converted into S'rei's sanctum in the past months. That wasn't to say he didn't carry his worries here as well. This was just the place he allowed himself to express them; the last thing the Weyrleader wanted was to worry Shmee. She certainly didn't need any help with that.

Closing his eyes, the bronzerider attempted to picture some of the old battles. It would have been easier if he'd been directly involved in them. However, after a moment, he could almost imagine that he was getting into C'leon's mindset...If S'rei'd had any rival growing up, it would have to be the Benden Weyrleader. Now they were taking their natural opposition to a new level. A dangerous level. He bit his lip. Yes, what would the man do? Then, all he had to figure out was the best way to counteract any move that cruel dragonrider could think of. The training of the wings had to begin soon. Open war had not yet been declared. He hoped it wouldn't be. But C'leon, at least, would attack the weyr at large if he was positive he'd win the day. S'rei intended that the Benden Weyrleader should never feel that confident.

Salenth startled awake, a sharp ReiMine, following that first jolt. S'rei was not prepared for the suddenness of it. His feet naturally moved to come down, sliding along the desk, and then his balance was off. The man fell backward and slammed the back of his head into the floor with a startled yelp. Shardit, Salenth, what are you try- He was already on his feet, rubbing at the back of his head ruefully, not at all surprised to find blood on his fingers. The bronze didn't let him finish his protest. Something's wrong with Shmee. Aslath is very...agitated. Agitated? Salenth tended to understate things, just as his rider did. The Weyrleader scowled, making for the weyrledge where the bronze was already waiting, shifting from pillar to pillar anxiously.

S'rei was deeply worried. It only worried him further that Salenth seemed even more upset than he was. What was going on? Could it be what the bronze was picking up from Aslath, that made Salenth seem so unsettled? The dragonpair flew up the short distance to the top of the waterfall, quickly banking for the hatching grounds, before the bronze suddenly shifted course. To S'rei's unspoken question, he replied, She's in the Weyrling barracks, with Aezanth's. That made sense. She'd been talking about starting lessons with the goldrider for months now.

He heard the scream following on Salenth's explanation. A small shock traveled through his spine, the normally expressive eyes and face going dead with the surge of emotion. It was the only way he could keep himself from losing all rational ability, this utter shutdown of anything resembling human feelings, and was a technique he rarely had to employ. Everything that occurred thereafter seemed to come from a distance, as if the true S'rei was looking down on this strange bronzerider, watching as he jumped nimbly from the bronze's back and gained the barracks in quick strides, as the man paused - just briefly - upon seeing the crumpled form in the door frame.

His other self came to kneel at her side, hands searching for the source of whatever had made her collapse when he noticed the blood. Too much blood. Oh, he knew what it meant without a doubt, knew also that Shmee was in danger, but somehow the fear and anxiety didn't break through to the man who took a hard look at the sheets and the broken glass. It didn't penetrate the wall of utter emotionlessness.

"Are you some sort of imbecile?" the hollow man questioned Paryal, as if he were merely chastising an errant weyrbrat. Good, for her, that the anger didn’t’ register. Very good. "What good is shoving sheets between her legs going to do when she’s still dressed? You left her in a pile of glass. Just - " his eyes closed for a moment, in what seemed like utter weariness, “- do something useful and get warm water.” What a complete dimglow. The Weyrleader drew the trousers off the woman irreverently. It didn't seem to matter to him at all that this might have embarrassed Shmee had she been conscious. This was when S'rei's shell paused in a moment of uncertainty. He could dress a wound. But this - this wasn't a wound. There was nothing to put pressure on. Nothing outside of medicinal herbs that he knew nothing of to try to slow the bleeding.

And, somehow, staring at the blood that stained her thighs, the man's soul was forcibly thrust back into the body, such that it trembled, his hands clenching in helplessness as they rested on her legs. The child was dead. Surely. But even that hadn't struck home, yet, as all he could think of was that Shmee was hemorrhaging, and if he couldn't get it to stop...Clean linen. Someone would have alerted a healer by now. One should be on the way. The least he could do was try to clean her up - a little - and get that bloody material away from her so that the chance of infection lessened. First, though, he took Paryal’s paltry attempt, rolling the furs up and sliding it beneath her neck for support, placing the other beneath her so that she wasn’t bleeding on the floor, at least.

His face was set into a terrifying mask as he carefully cleared the glass from around his weyrmate, lifting her carefully to make sure she hadn’t landed on any. His eyes narrowed, running a finger along one of the shards and rubbing the powder between thumb and forefinger. A drug. This was drug-induced. Then they'd have to get Shmee's body to purge itself, or nothing they did was going to be effective. Again, though, S'rei's knowledge of these things was generally limited to burns and injuries that could be gotten fighting Thread or in battle in general. Until a healer got here, the Weyrleader was essentially attempting to keep back a flood with nothing but a pebble at his disposal.

S'rei is with her now. The Infirmary has been notified. She will be all right, Aslath. She will. He repeated it, as much for his own sake as hers. If Shmee didn't pull out of this - S'rei was a very unpredictable man in situations of high emotion. And obviously this was a malicious act. Salenth made no mention of it to Aslath, in case she didn't know, not wanting to distress her further. He'd entered the hatching grounds just after leaving S'rei off, and even now pressed close to Aslath, hoping to lend her some comfort. It was frightening for any dragon who's mine was quite literally fighting death.

[Administrator]

Shmee's eyelids fluttered, a sob overcoming her in her fevered state. Before she had passed out, had Paryal dared confirm it...? Unable to keep her eyes open, her hand weakly reached out to whoever was next to her. Opening her eyes a sliver, it took a moment to focus before realizing that this wasn't Paryal. It was S'rei. Moaning, she found she didn't have the strength in her fingers to try and grip him. Limply, her fingers collapsed on him as she reached worldlessly for Aslath. Sweat soaked through her shirt, but Shmee was oblivious to that and the blood that was staining the sheet beneath her. "I..." was all she managed to mumble out before another spasm gripped her. Clutching her stomach, she tried sinking down further, only to find she couldn't. Wimpering, she then tried to slip down onto her side. She felt so so hot...

Where was her babe? Crying out in both pain and desperation, she closed her eyes tightly, as if that would keep the baby in her. However, the callous Paryal had the thought in her brain already. She was losing her child. "S'rei," she mumbled again as a bead of sweat rolled down from her temple across her cheek. "Her... out..." she mumbled, meaning Paryal. Right now, she hated Paryal, this harsh emotion stemming from the weyrling's words before she collapsed and the final words before she had passed out.

Aslath's mind met her lovingly, though the fright behind it was clear. I am here, it is all right, I love you,[/color] the queen reassured her rider even as she shook on the sands. She pressed her large body against Salenth, thankful for the comfort, though it did not really help much. What is happening to her?[/color] she demanded, her eyes whirling a bright red. All she knew now was that this was not good- Shmee couldn't even respond to her in mind-voice in this state!

Shmee felt herself fading in and out, shivering in quick spasms. A part of her thought that S'rei being here was only a dream, but didn't have the strength in her eyelids to open and doublecheck. Her heart pounded against her chest, but she was only half-aware. She felt her lips and mouth dry up, but she knew she needed to get a message out. For what would happen if she died...? "Drug," she whispered hoarsely. "Love..." Mid-thought, her worst cramp yet made her cry out in pain. Her womb couldn't be emptying of her babe... It was hers, it couldn't be taken from her! Letting out small, dry sobs, she shook violently as her stomach heaved once more, sending Shmee off into a state of only half-consciousness, unable to connect with anything around her except the pain...[/size]

[paryal]

Contrary to what appeared to be the popular belief of the room, Paryal was being neither cold nor callous. She worried for the Weyrwoman, but Aezanth held a far greater degree of concern to her. This couldn’t be good for the young Queen to watch. It was so much blood and pain, and so much loss. Dragons were highly emphatic creatures, and Aezanth was growing increasingly more stressed out by the situation, huddling against a wall. Such fear wasn’t at all characteristic in the little gold, only increasing Paryal’s worry for her beloved. “Are you idiotic? I’ve done all I can. I’m no Healer. Get control of yourself.” Delivering a resounding slap to the Weyrleader’s cheek, Paryal stepped back to go stand by Aezanth. “It’s okay lovely. I’m taking you out of this situation.”

Although Shmee was largely blocking the doorway, Paryal collected as much of Aezanth as she could carry, helping to drag her dragon clear of any glass. I want to leave mine. Please. Though Paryal didn’t want Shmee to think she was leaving because of the ravings of a sick woman, the pleading in Aezanth’s voice was enough to make her step over Shmee’s prone body, making sure Aezanth received no blood on her perfect hide.

“I expect someone qualified will arrive shortly. Miscarriages aren’t common. You bleat like a sheep.” Angry beyond belief at the Weyrleader and the incompetent Weyrwoman, Paryal and Aezanth both reached the corridor and left, without looking back.
((... I had no clue what to put. xD)

[Requiem]

(My suggestion is never, ever slap S'rei when he's already upset. And you're not quite out of the thread yet, Paryal.)

The Weyrleader reached down, taking her hand in his firm grip, trying to help her feel his presence through the gentle pressure he applied. He was there. No, he didn't know anything more to do for her, was helpless in the face of this, but he was still here. She needed to know that. Now, and later. This wasn't her fault. Shards, he'd murder the bastards whose fault it was, but Shmee could never be allowed to blame herself. Trembling under the sheer force of his emotions, S'rei's head bowed.

He didn't notice Paryal or her words. She was unimportant. Insignificant. Under normal circumstances, the man was respectful enough to acknowlege a person's property and privacy, but these were not normal circumstances. The slap got his attention. Faranth, did it get his attention! S'rei's eyes snapped up, his face having gone stony with rage, but Shmee's barely audible words stayed him for a few precious moments. Long enough that Paryal may well have escaped with such a show of disrespect, of complete lack of sympathy for a couple who had just lost a baby while the mother weakened second by second. Shmee's words might well have saved her.

Only the little fool dared to open her mouth again, as she left her own quarters, and this time her venom was directed at the semi-conscious woman on the ground. If S'rei had nearly attacked the girl for slapping him - he was beyond rage at her treatment of Shmee. Stroking back the dark hair, he rose with a parting squeeze to the woman's hand, his stormy gaze lighting on the girl's retreating back. He didn't notice Kalierre slip quietly behind him. S'rei stalked after Paryal, overtaking her just as she rounded the corridor.

With a growl, he caught her by the neck, his other hand grasping her waist in a subconscious mercy, even as he slammed her up against the wall with jarring force, the only thing keeping her from strangling the hand now pressed firmly into her stomach. Aezanth would likely react to his manhandling of Paryal. So be it. This filth needed to learn respect. "Her child is dead. Do you understand that?" He brought his face within bare inches of hers. "Our child is dead! If you have no respect for your Weyrleaders, fine, but at least pretend to have a shred of normal human sympathy. I don't give a damn how common miscarriages are. It's still our child." His voice had softened, even as the anger grew. "You will never speak to your Weyrwoman that way again. Or I will kill you. I swear by Faranth's first clutch...I will tear you limb from limb."

Salenth struggled to try and bring down the shimmering rage in His, but it was hard, as he mostly agreed with his rider. Shoving someone against a wall and screaming at them wasn't the best way to handle it. Not at all. But - who could blame a man for reacting that way after having just lost a child? Yours has...miscarried. Her Clutch is dead. He had tried to think of a softer way to say it, but there was none. A drug caused it. Phremath's is trying to get the drug out of her system right now. She'll be all right. Again with that statement. Salenth didn't say anything about the Weyrleader's flare. It would only further distress Aslath.

[Tashe]

(*Reqqy asked me to have F'rah intervene so... don't yell at me. D:*)

The noise had finally gotten through to him, screaming, yelling and a few things breaking, it sounded as if the Weyrlings were having a massive party. How dare they disturb his peace and quiet when he was trying to correct THEIR tests on his own personal time! All the Weyrlingmaster had ever really asked of his students was some respect and to have a little fun, but this was going way to far over the limits of what he would ever allow. Slowly standing up from his large wooden desk, the seething Weyrlingmaster stomped his way over to his door with the hope of crashing the kid's party. Almost wrenching the door open to the point of it slamming on its return trip to the frame, F'rah began his way down the corridor. His first stop was at Z'hin's door, putting his ear to the door the man heard nothing out of the ordinary. Repeating the process with every few doors, the wingsecond began to incubate the feeling of worry. Nearing the completion of his search, it was only then did a flurry of movement catch the man's wary eyes. And what he saw shocked him...

Lauranna's brother was yelling at someone, but his large form blocked the person from F'rah's view. Quickening his pace into a disturbed run, the honey brown haired man reached the Weyrleader and the woman he was literally strangling. Paryal. One of his students, and a weyrwoman in training none the less. The worry that had begun as only a seed quickly blossomed into a magnificent flower. And for a split second the man didn't know what to do... but that second passed as if had never existed.

"WEYRLEADER S'REI! Control yourself by Farnath, that is a WEYRLING and she is under MY charge!" Never had F'rah's voice cracked with such venom, but this had never happened to him. Swinging his arm out to firmly grasp the arm which held the young woman's throat hostage, the Weyrlingmaster continued. "I suggest that you take your hands of MY Weyrling, Weyrleader. If you have any problems with her, you go to me... I do not want Paryal dead LET ALONE hurt, under MY watch! It will do NO good if you hurt her. So please by all things good let her go!" Pausing for a moment to think of more things to say, to plead, to warn, F'rah growled unhappily. "I will take care of her! I will do anything you want me to, but if you don't let her go... I am not above using force!"

Even though the Weyrlingmaster's face seemed perfectly sincere on the promise of force, his had that grasped S'rei's arm shook likely. F'rah dreaded what would happen if the Weyrleader turned on him in his rage, but at least Paryal would then at least, have the perfect chance to retreat. And in a final act of pleading, the wingsecond spoke again. "The Weyrwoman is in pain! You should be with her! Not out here taking your anger out on a weyrling for whatever she did!"

(*knows S'rei isn't actually strangling Paryal. But F'rah doesn't.*)

[Administrator]

Shmee was extremely grateful for S'rei's presence. She couldn't squeeze back, but she'd have to thank him later. If she got out of this. Paryal's words were a mere echo, and Shmee was unable to make them out, which was probably for the better. What she did hear, however, slowly registered in her mind. Did she... slap S'rei?! Whimpering, she attempted pushing herself up, sweat pouring off her thin cheeks. "Stop," she whispered in the midst of her daze. Closing her blue eyes that seemed to fade with each second, she hissed again in pain before breaking into a sob. When was it going to end!? It was bad enough that she knew her babe was leaving her, but why did it have to be so prolonged?! Still shaking violently where she lay on the floor, she was aware that Paryal said something else. The exact words weren't made out, but she didn't really are. She moaned slightly, her hand going to her stomach as S'rei pushed her sweaty hair back.

She groaned again, trying to tell S'rei that way that she didn't want him to leave as he let go of her hand after one parting squeeze. Whimpering again, her weak hands traveled down her stomach, resting on her inner thigh, not caring about the blood that now smeared her fingers. She wanted to try and find the babe. Maybe she could save it somehow. If she had been totally aware, she would have known that this was a totally hopeless cause, but Shmee was desperate for any kind of hope. Shards, she didn't know if it was even out of her yet. Unable to locate the babe, she slid back down against the wall.

Quiet movement in the background was Shmee's first belated alert of Kalierre's presence. Opening her dimming blue eyes blearily, she slowly let her mouth work. "Save... my babe... somehow," she said, exhaustion and the drug starting to take over her body again. "Please," she added, her small, hoarse voice a plaintive shadow of what it once was. Rolling her head onto her side, she moaned as she her stomach hurt once again, with brutal fire that made her fling her arms around, desperately trying to connect with anyone, especially S'rei. Even though her fingers were bloody, it didn't even cross her mind to try wiping them off on something- she had not the slightest bit of energy to even attempt something like that.

[paryal]

Although Paryal was being held in what appeared to be a strangle by the Weyrleader, she showed no fear. “It is hardly a child yet. I will speak to the Weyrwoman how I please. She is the one who has come in and may now potentially scar my dragon. I do not care if it is not my fault. My concern is for Aezanth, now for this woman who until this point didn’t acknowledge I exist.” Staring at S’rei straight on, Paryal maintained eye contact. Aezanth stood behind her, bristling, preparing to attack. Do not do that. This man is not rational. He is not sane right now. It is a flaw of people love. Discomforted by the blood and the bronzerider’s actions, Aezanth was paling visibly. Once again, she just wanted to leave, and do that as soon as possible.

Pushing S’rei away with surprising strength, Paryal brushed herself off. “Your intervention is not necessary Weyrlingmaster, though I would like to point out now that I shall need a new room. The blood stains likely will not come out.” Though it may have seemed that Paryal was cold, she simply didn’t care. Why should she? It was exceedingly unlikely that Shmee would die. It was pain, but life moved on. The thing that would eventually emerge from her legs would probably not even be visible, not at all shaped like a human being at this point. There would be other children from the couple. If they were going to be this soft hearted, their reign as Weyrleaders would be short and brutal indeed. Worse things happened to people, and life still went on as if nothing had happened. Are we leaving now mine? Whining deep in her throat, Aezanth padded forward away from the homicidal Weyrleader, though she paused to hiss at him before waiting at the exit of the Weyrling Barracks for Paryal.

“I’m getting away from this needless drama now, if it so pleases you all.” Raising an eyebrow at the assembled crowds, Paryal walked away, Aezanth at her side, this time for good.

[Requiem]

Her barbed, irreverant tongue. A dangerously large part of S'rei wished to tear the offending appendage from her mouth and grind it underfoot. The small, rational voice inside whispered to him, staying his hand for the moment, but it was fighting an increasingly losing battle. Even that small voice cursed Paryal for being so callous, so openly insubordenate, as this tiny bit of rationality was the only thing holding S'rei back from outright murder. Any newcomer would assume the man had lost all control; they would have been distressed to find how very much restraint the Weyrleader was acutally exhibiting. He wanted to kill her. Speaking as if Shmee had deliberately lost the baby at this moment to bother Aezanth, as if an unborn child deserved less consideration than one already in their arms, as if a weyrling had any right to show less than the utmost respect to her Weyrwoman and it mattered one iota that the domestic leader of the Weyr had been unable to cater to a trumped-up goldweyrling's sense of self-importance every waking moment. It was because of women like this that S're had avoided goldriders so piously - until Shmee.

A voice broke into the fiery world of his anger. A hand settled on his arm. The words scathed him. Not only was this a subordinate of his, daring to intercede on the vitriolic wench's behalf - but he was right. His head turned at the mention of force, his face masked in shadow. At the same moment that Paryal decided to try her luck in escaping him, S'rei was already in the process of releasing her. She'd likely think she could somehow overcome his strength, the twit, but this was of no concern to the Weyrleader. Shmee...Shame rocked him. While he was out here, yelling at a worthless weyrling, the Weyrwoman was suffering alone.. He hated himself for his volatile temper, for losing control. Dimly, he heard the harpy speak again, doubtless spewing more worthless trash. Aezanth must have been defective, too, to choose such a creature.

"I...apologize," the Weyrleader murmured to the man at his side, his hand clenching into a fist before him. There was a barely contained wildness in his stormy hues as he regarded the Weyrlingmaster. It should be apparent to most observers that S'rei's cool seemed to erode whenever Shmee was attacked - verbally, mentally or physically. His gaze hardened. "You have been too soft with her, brownrider, if she feels she has the right to openly scorn her Weyrwoman and to raise a hand against me. I will not touch her again. Teach Paryal her place as a weyrling, F'rah. Because if I learn of any further callousness or insubordination toward Shmee from that venue - it will be your hide that I take it out of." The Weyrleader nodded solemnly to F'rah, before making his way back to Kalierre and Shmee.

The healer looked up, her passive face masking her distress and all too far easily read by the Weyrleader. "Come. Help me move her. The cold of the floor will only make things worse." S'rei gathered the Weyrwoman up with exquisite care, shushing her as she writhed in his grasp. The pain must be otherworldly. He swallowed on the lump in his throat. "The baby has not yet been passed, but - with cramping like that, it is already dead in her womb." S'rei closed his eyes against the quiet words meant only for him. He laid Shmee down inthe bed,oh so gently, before turning his gaze upon his friend. She was in the process of removing a flask from her belt.

"Hold her head." He did as instructed, even as Kali administered the liquid, waiting until Shmee had swallowed enough of the brew. "Sit her up, or she'll choke." The Weyrleader repositioned Shmee. During that time, Kalierre left and reappeared with a bedpan. "The vomitting will weaken her. She will most certainly become dehydrated, and the fever will worsen. But there was an agent, an anti-coagulent, in the drug in her tea. She won't stop bleeding unless we purge it from her system." Kalierre paused, dark eyes coming to rest sympathetically onthe Weyrleader. The man slowly nodded. Inducing vomitting could very well kill Shmee in her weakened state, but without this action she would surely die. How? How could he handle the death of another weyrmate?

The dragonhealer remained as the hours passed, dozing in a chair, her sleep light and fitful. S'rei slept the sleep of the emotionally exhausted. Sometime after the vomitting had stopped, he'd joined Shmee on the bed, her head in his lap. One hand rested by her face, the other curled around her fingers, even in his slumber. Salenth, too, offered what comfort he could to Aslath on the Hatching Grounds. An irrational anxiety kept his eyes drifting over the eggs. With Shmee's clutch dead, he couldn't help but worry about his. The bronze's tail gripped Aslath's tightly.

[Tashe]

Now it was his turn to become annoyed at Paryal, her tone would be enough to tempt anyone into an offensive mode. His intervention wasn't necessary? If the young Weyrling could not see that if she had chided the weyrleader anymore, then it could have gotten a lot worse for her. The girl might not care about anything, but openly talking down on the highest ranking people in the weyr would not be accepted in any Weyr. Paryal was only lucky to impress a gold at Selenitas, if she had spoken to Benden's or Fort's weyrleaders like that she would be dead. There was no doubt about it, Weyrwomen over there were only kept around for their queens.

Retracting his hand from the Weyrleader's arm, F'rah watched as he began to get his anger in check. Lowering his brown eyes slightly as S'rei began speaking to him directly, all the while switching his hardened gaze upon him. And his words were the truth. The weyrlingmaster had been to soft on all of his Weyrlings, and now from this point on his attitude would be more austere. Bowing his head slightly to acknowledge the Weyrleader's wishes, F'rah responded to the brother of his good friend. "It is noted, and will be done Weyrleader." Waiting until the man returned to the room where his Weyrmate was, F'rah turned on his heel before striding back to the lesson room. Everything from there flew by like a burst of wind, and the parchment he had just written appeared on the notice wall for all the Weyrlings to see.

The next Weyrling lesson would be about proper manners in a Weyr, and what would happen if they were broken.

[Administrator]

“S’rei,” Shmee murmured, dazed in her pain and through her drugged mind. She was unable to understand much else that was going on around her, but it relieved her more than S’rei was back to her. Trying to sit up, it was all for nothing. She was too weak to even get her arms to support her weight. Moaning, she let herself sink down, her eyes beginning to close again. It hurt… Yet somehow, the knowledge of S’rei being near made it more tolerable. Groggily, she reached out to Aslath, connecting with her briefly before slipping away again. Never had she thought it would take effort to connect to her dragon!

Feeling another cramp, she cried out in pain as S’rei lifted her that instant. Tears from unknown wells swam down her ruddy cheeks, and she writhed in agony. If someone had allowed her to die right then, she may very well have gone along, if only to be free of this torment, both physical and the pain of knowing her babe could not have possibly survived this. What kind of mother was she, to so easily allow the death of her unborn child? Her own carelessness was the reason for this- the babe could have gone on to be healthy, grown big and strong, perhaps a dragonrider. But no- do to its mother’s folly, it would never have a chance to live those dreams.

She was placed on the bed, the cool sheets feeling better against her body. She moaned, her face flushed with fever and tears. Feeling someone- S’rei, from the way the hands felt- lifted her head up. Whimpering in protest to being moved, she dizzily shook her head. Finally, it flopped against S’rei’s chest, this slight struggle unable to hold out for long. Helpelessly, her head was moved back up, and a vile liquid was tipped into her mouth. Trying to reject the liquid, she found it slipped down her throat. She was too weak to turn it down. Taken over by coughing, she found her body martyr to this effort of shudders that overwhelmed her. Each cough made her feel as though she would suffocate, until finally she vomited into the readied bedpan. Sobs accompanied it, sweat pouring down her face, beginning to be absorbed in the once-cool sheets. Was this how she would die? When everything had been emptied for her body, she slumped, shaking, into S’rei’s arms. The sobs that escaped her lips were dry, with no liquids left in her to cry any more. Her fever was raging now, and she was burning against S’rei. However, the Weyrwoman was oblivious to this. She was oblivious to everything as she passed out against weyrmate.

In the hours that past, her fever raged on mercilessly as the cramps shuddered through the unconscious woman. Nightmares plagued her mind, with every horrible image in her mind coming to haunt her. The dead weyrling of Benden, her dead babe, terrible pictures of S’rei and Aslath dying as she looked on helpelessly… She tossed and turned, her head in S’rei’s lap, lost in these horrific fantasies.

At last, a searing pain that woke her. Shmee found herself screaming, though it came out as a soft moan, both at the current nightmare and the true pain of what she knew was her womb emptying of its contents. Her babe, the babe she had loved…

Pressing her head against S’rei’s stomach, she let the fever wash over her again, succumbing to the unconsciousness once again rather than the fact of what had happened, the unfinished babe that had left her body for good.

Throughout this time, Aslath was awake, shaking quite visibly, on the sands. Huddled against Salenth for support, she knew Hers could easily die. Shmee kept wavering in and out of Aslath’s mind, and it frightened her. Clinging desperately at their mental link, she was no longer concentrating on her clutch. Hers was terribly ill, now without a clutch, and nothing could comfort her save the knowledge of the recovery of Hers.

[Requiem]

He didn't know what to say, what to do to calm the gold. Salenth could only remember the two times with S'rei and tremble. Even in sleep, the Weyrleader's sorrow and worry weighed heavily on the bronze. There was nothing left but to wait and hope. His head came to rest over her shoulder, the smaller male attempting to convey that he was here for her, that all would be all right, with his mind. Aslath's was...precious to ReiMine. Just as Aslath herself was precious to Salenth. The thought of losing both of them filled the bronze with dread. No. No, they wouldn't lose anyone. Aslath's would be fine. She had to be.

"Wingleader."

He turned to the bluerider, his face expressionless. The man swallowed. He knew that a blank expression from S'rei meant the man was displeased, and the Wingleader was frightening when he was angry. Still, the bluerider forged on, his eyes occasionally darting to the wing that flew practice formations in the near distance. "It's Sage. She - The battle did not go well for ours." If anything, the deadness in the man's face increased. There was a long moment of utter stillness. Then, without a word, the Wingleader turned on a heel.

The bluerider arrested him before he could go too far. "Not the infirmary." S'rei's brows knotted, but he descended the steps to the Weyrbowl, not quite believing what must be true. They must just not have moved her yet. But as he drew closer, all he saw were the bodies laid out, ready to be flown Between. His eyes scanned for any sign of healers hovering over a certain area. Only once his feet touched the ground did he allow the thought to take root. He found her. All too soon. One side of her face was blackened, looking almost like melted wax. He didn't dare look lower than her face.

Then the face shifted. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Younger, fairer.

"Rei! Rei, calm down."

He came to his senses slowly. Had he been thrashing? S'rei blinked at the figure coalescing out of the shadows of his waking mind, the woman bent over him and the other in his lap. Kali sighed, pushing the hair from her face wearily. "She's okay. That must have been some dream." Her eyes searched his face questioningly, but when the Weyrleader didn't offer a reply, she let it go. Something flickered in her eyes. Turning to leave, she found that he'd caught her wrist.

"Kali. I'm sorry. I know we used to talk about everything - "

"There's nothing to apologize for," the woman interrupted briskly, extricating herself from his grip. "You made your choice. Twice." Her voice softened. "How could you continue the way we had, when Shmee is here now? She can be there for you. And I have no place in your life."

"You can still-"

"I can't. Just this, seeing you together...It's almost too much. No, Rei. You might be able to just see this as a friendship, but I can't." Her smile was sad, even as she nodded toward Shmee. "You'll have plenty of time with her, Rei. The bleeding has stopped. The fever is receding. She's out of danger."

Only Kalierre. The healer somehow managed to put her feelings aside, every single time, and still do what was best for her patients. Was there anyone that kind? By rights, she should have been the one he'd fallen in love with, at Benden. But he hadn't. And, despite her insistence that she would never play a second to Sage, Kali must have secretly thought otherwise, if it was really this hard for her to see S'rei with a weyrmate again. "I don't deserve a friend like you," he murmured, quietly.

Relief. Overwhelming relief. Shmee would be all right. He forgot about the dragonhealer in his elation, who managed to slip out the door. The dream, it was only a dream. Not a portent. It pained him that she had to go through all this but...at least she was still here to open her eyes. "Love," he whispered to her sleeping form. "Please don't scare me like that again."

[Administrator]

The words sounded distant, far away. Shmee moaned, stirring weakly where she lay on the cot. She was... oddly sore. A fever still burned on her face, but it had certainly died down since those hellish hours. Was this S'rei talking to her? Opening her eyes a little, she closed them again as the light hit them. The light didn't feel good. Shards, she felt warm... Her hands fluttered slightly, searching out S'rei's. "I'm so sorry," she managed to whisper hoarsely. The babe... A sick feeling made her mind swim and her stomach shift about uneasily. Her babe... If she had fluids in her, tears might be streaming down her face afresh. "Where's our babe?" she asked weakly, the pitch rising in fear of what she knew had happened. Desperately, she tried to push herself up onto her arms, but, just like earlier, she couldn't support her own weight, and her head fell back to S'rei's lap helplessly. Guilt unimaginable came over her, and she trembled. "It was drugged," she replied, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Why was she not dead? Her babe had died, so why hadn't she? But -you- are alive![/color] Aslath's voice broke through the mental shield, and Shmee found herself shaking harder. Had Aslath been worrying that much over her as she slept? Yes I have, but you are well now![/color] Relieved, Aslath slumped against Salenth, exhausted from worry. The occasional shudder ran through the golden body, but it was more of disbelief than fright. Hers would be fine. Watch over my eggs as I sleep, love?[/color] Aslath asked with a sleepy croon, nuzzling up against Salenth.

Shmee, however, was faced with double guilt. She had worried Aslath, and her stupidity has cost her and S'rei their babe...The time at the gather seemed like a lifetime ago. Whimpering, she vainly tried pulling her head further into S'rei's lap. And S'rei! How long had he been here? "How long?" she asked weakly. "And... does anyone else know?" She knew Paryal, and her fury towards that girl likely would never truly die down. Then a healer of some sort, though she couldn't remember who. Shards, were they spreading this around? "Please don't let anyone else come in," she asked softly, not wanting any sympathy-wishers too close to her bedside right now. All she wanted was S'rei, but even he she didn't deserve. Not after losing their babe.

[Requiem]

She stirred with his words, though she likely hadn't heard them. He gripped her hands, his fingers settling around hers with a firm pressure, instinctively knowing that she needed to feel him there. He couldn't make out her first words, but her question was clear enough. S'rei maintained his silence. Shmee - she knew what had happened - and he couldn't speak of that right now. The pain was too raw. Sensitive to how she must feel, he wouldn't subject her to the bitterness that would no doubt creep into his voice were he to answer that. The Weyrleader clung tenaciously to the relief that Shmee was alive. For now...that was more than enough. His hands did tighten, though, as her words came again. "I know."

At her weak movements, S'rei let go of her hands, reaching down to support her upper back as he rearranged his legs that he might draw her against him, her head and shoulders cushioned against his stomach, his arms draped lightly around her. The Weyrleader was afraid of hurting her. Still...She'd need to sit up eventually, at least a little bit. He needed to get her to drink something. Even if it took ten tries before she kept it down.

Salenth? The bronze's reply came swiftly. Thirty-two hours. It was the next day already? He must have slept quite awhile. Yet it felt like he'd hardly slept at all. "A bit over a day, love." S'rei himself was feeling vaguely nauseous. And just a bit guilty. Shmee seemed mortified that others might know of this. The entire weyr had to be aware by now, what with her collapsing in Paryal's doorway yesterday and his idiocy. Why had he yelled at Paryal again? It hardly seemed important now. "Kalierre may return." He truly doubted that, but it was possible. "Or another of the healers, but no one else."

He located the water within reach. Two cups, even. Filling one up halfway, so that it might be easier for her to handle, S'rei pressed it into her hands, one of his own seeking to steady hers. "You need to drink, Shmee. A sip." His free hand pulled some of the sweat-soaked hair away from her neck. Up until this point, his voice had been emotionless. Now it cracked. "I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn't - I couldn't bear that." He was dimly aware of the moisture on his face, though it didn't quite register as to what it was.

Nearly two days since he'd slept. But Salenth merely returned the nuzzle, replying softly Of course. I won't let anything happen to our clutch. He could take his rest after Aslath had slept. While everyone else reacted to the moment, Salenth's mind had taken the next logical steps as he lay there for hours. Someone had drugged Aslath's. Someone who wanted her to suffer, to lose the babe and then to die of bleeding. They had to find out who. Was it one of the other weyrs? Or, worse, was it someone within Selenitas, not related to Fort or Benden at all? And once they learned Shmee was alive, would they make another attempt? This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.