All Over Again (Rys)

[kysseh]

If you are worried that RysCiceroth’s will be upset, then you can send an apprentice. Do not go see him if it will make both of you upset.

Hepticath’s words did very little to quell the unhappy fluttering in Savitri’s stomach, especially when the goldrider responded in the negative to that suggestion. The healer was not on shift, but that did not stop her from walking the halls of the infirmary toward the room in question. She had felt utterly lost, bewildered, and just angry upon the first glimpse of her weyrmate when he had been brought into the infirmary unconscious. He had not been out for long, and she had not been permitted to treat him, an honest kindness considering her hands could not stop shaking long enough to be useful. Still, seeing him in that state was a memory that would never be purged from her brain.

She was simply grateful he was alive, even if he did have no memory of her or their time together. The damage to his head, to his brain, had seemingly destroyed his awareness of all of his Turns at Selenitas… and who knew how many more? It distressed her, and she had been unable to face him at first, instead crying on the shoulder of a good friend until all of the upset had been bled from her system. What remained was sadness, accompanied by a sense of utter helplessness in knowing there was little she could do.

Whether he remembered her or not, though, she was not going to see him looking like a mess. She was not dressed formally, but her attire was neat, at least. Her shirt was an everyday one, light green in color over her light brown pants and sandals. Her long hair was tied back in a knot at the base of her skull, exposing her recently-pierced earlobes. The earrings were simple gold studs with tiny light green crystals, inexpensive but pretty pieces that she found herself very fond of. A tray full of food was carefully balanced in her hands as she paced down the hallway toward the door in question. The tray was loaded with all sorts of simple foods: bread, broth, fruits, vegetables, and a pitcher and two mugs of water. Hopefully, he would have an appetite for something, which she had attempted to encourage by leaving red meat off the list of possibilities.

Presenting Ka’rys with red meat was among the worst of crimes a person could commit.

“Rys?” she called into the room through the partially open door, nudging it further open with her shoulder so she could pass through. It did not even occur to her to use his full name; that was reserved for when she was annoyed or upset. “Rys, I brought you a few things to eat, if you’re hun-- Rys?”

Her brow furrowed in concern at the realization that the bronzerider was not in his bed. She had a brief moment of panic that something had happened to him in the past candlemark and took two steps towards the cot, only belatedly spying something dark and strange in the corner with her peripheral vision. The goldrider’s head turned, the relief on her face evident. “There you are. I brought some food,” she said with more control over her voice, carefully kneeling down and setting the tray in front of the bronzerider. It took effort to not let her face contort with distress at the sight of his injuries. “What… are you doing in the corner?” she asked, frowning faintly in concern now that she had something besides the damage done to him to focus on. She was aware of the fact that her hands were quivering, and she quickly folded them into her lap to keep that from showing. What was he doing out of bed?

[glamourie]

Movement. Someone coming into the room. The sound of the door creaking made Ka’rys wake (he was a notoriously light sleeper and being without protection and injured only heightened that) and he slinked back against the corner, sliding down slightly more to make himself harder to see. The dim light of the room combined with the cot caused a shadow to play over him, disguising him from view. It gave him a good view of whoever was coming in before they’d ever see him and he’d been refusing any kind of pain reduction medication since he woke up – he didn’t trust being hazy in an unfamiliar place, no matter how much Ciceroth insisted that the healers wouldn’t harm him. While Ciceroth’s calm helped to keep him from frantically scrambling out of the infirmary (twisted ankle or not), he still didn’t feel safe and was strongly of the opinion he never would. Aside from feeling half-frozen (he attributed that to blood loss as it was coinciding with his headache), Selenitas smelled different. There wasn’t the scent of a mountain, of lake water – it was instead replaced by dense foliage, trees and bushes, rivers, and flowers. All in all, he found the tropical climate disorienting and he was… yes, he was scared.

He also didn’t recognize the… healer… coming into the room, which sent off instant warning bells in his mind. He assumed she was a healer, at least, for she had a tray of food which he most assuredly wouldn’t eat; he didn’t trust anything at Selenitas not to be poisoned. They seemed to have a poisoning problem – the river, that Weyrwoman that S’rei mentioned – and he wasn’t about to become a fatality to it, good intentions or not. His eyes narrowed, the headache ignored as the woman began to speak and Ciceroth’s voice brushed through his mind.

That is Savitri, Rysmine.

Ah. Awkward… and interesting at once. Would it be rude to stare? Yes probably. He didn’t; instead he shifted beneath the blankets as she came to realize where he was. His eyes never left her though and he tried his best to keep the analysis out of his gaze – off his face. It would probably upset her. He didn’t know – females tended to be so emotional and he didn’t want to be cried on. He wasn’t sure he knew how to react to a crying… woman he didn’t even remember knowing. Upsetting. His head cocked to the side slightly and it dawned on him that… he wasn’t speaking. Kind of hard to communicate without words, but… he didn’t even know what to say. How does one talk to someone who was important enough to be a weyrmate, without remembering them? So strange.

“Hi.” That seemed like a good way to start. It was embarrassingly awkward and he fully expected some kind of weird response – but… ‘hi’ was better than anything else he could think of. Civil, at least. Far nicer than he was to everyone else that he… apparently knew so far. Her question made him crinkle his nose and he shifted beneath the blanket that he’d seized for himself. “I like being able to see every possible angle that people can come from, before any of them can see me. It makes not having my knives slightly less frustrating.” That was, perhaps, more open than he was comfortable being but at least it was honest. He didn’t want to offend… at the same time, if this woman was his weyrmate she had to know of his hatred of being disarmed. He doubted that would have changed over time. Then again, pretty much everything else had… that thought was a bitter one, though, so Ka’rys pushed it out of his mind.

His gaze strayed to the food before he crinkled his nose. “I’m not really hungry.” Or sure he could keep food down. “Thank you, though.”

[kysseh]

The lighting in the room was awful, and Savitri grimaced at that realization. Still, she guessed he had an awful headache from the pounding he had taken, so turning the glows to illuminate the room seemed to not be a good option. Even with the low light, she was fully aware of the fact that she was being watched. After knowing the man for three Turns, there was some instinct that told her when his eyes were on her, even if she wasn’t looking. Ka’rys studied things, studied her sometimes, it seemed, when he didn’t understand.

He was studying her, she guessed.

“Hi,” she returned softly, aware of just how uncomfortable the situation was. The goldrider was perfectly aware of everything that had happened in the previous few Turns, and from what she understood, someone else had given Ka’rys the important points. She wasn’t wearing her knots, but… did he know it was her? Did he know who she was? The urge to just ask was curbed only when he explained his reasoning for abandoning the bed and taking up his position in the corner.

It sounded so like the paranoid Rys that she knew that the healer couldn’t help but laugh softly, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. “I’m sorry. I’m not… laughing at you,” she said quickly when the realization that he could be offended penetrated into her weary brain. “I… I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that.” And, truly, she wasn’t. It was gratifying to hear him sounding so much like himself, even if it was apparent that she was like a stranger to him. Her hand fell from her mouth, and she moved to sit crosslegged, not minding that it was an unladylike and childish posture.

“I can’t bring you your knives. I’d bring you one of the felines as a guard, but I don’t think the rest of the staff here would appreciate that much,” she said with a wistful shrug of one shoulder. A loose lock of hair fell across her cheek, and she irritably brushed it aside, her face contorted with concern for him. Wasn’t hungry? That was not entirely surprising. Was he cold? He looked cold, just huddled there with that blanket. “I could… bring you one of your furs if you want.”

It occurred to her very suddenly that they were starting all over again, a thought that sent a pang through her heart. Starting… all over. “I’m Savitri, by the way. My Hepaticath has been very concerned about you and Ciss.” It seemed ridiculous to introduce herself to her own weyrmate. Ridiculous and simply awkward, it was, but where else to start, really? “I didn’t figure you’d be too hungry, but… it was worth a try. I was hoping that not bringing meat would encourage you.” One of her hands nudged the tray ineffectually, mostly for something to do. Her eyes flicked over his face, her own expression clearly displaying the sympathetic pain she felt at his situation. He would not be taking pain medication, she knew, so he had to be in serious discomfort. It made her unhappy.

[glamourie]

Errr laughter. Ka’rys resisted the urge to glare, instead blanking his face. It was a very sure sign that he was hiding something, but… oh well. It made him feel better, because being laughed at did bother him when he didn’t even… know the person doing the laughing. Ciceroth’s mind again brushed his – a gentle reminder that he did know this woman, he just didn’t remember that. It didn’t improve his mood any though. In fact, he wanted more seriously to curl under the blankets and hide from her until she was gone. Funny – after an initial moment of panicking, he’d been fine with S’rei who was responsible for so many people he knew dying, but this woman who supposedly loved him scared him half to death. She wasn’t even an imposing figure. Feelings weren’t always logical, he knew, but that just made little to no sense. Ka’rys narrowed his eyes slightly as she proceeded to… explain that she wasn’t laughing at him. When she was. Tch.

“Just because I was hit in the head doesn’t mean that my personality has changed, Savitri.” The way he said her name was intended as scolding; he didn’t particularly like being laughed at, no, but he especially didn’t like justifications for it. He would’ve just ignored the transgression otherwise. Maybe. Possibly. Then again he was in pain and adding pain to Ka’rys’s personality usually resulted in more snotty behavior. “At least, I assume it hasn’t – I’ve carried knives since I was old enough to walk and I find it hard to believe that a few turns in the South would change that.” Considering the life expectancy of bronzeriders at Selenitas, he probably carried more – he couldn’t see his self-preserving nature just diminishing because he was in a different place. It was certainly possible, but highly unlikely. He was probably being too critical of her but… Ka’rys didn’t know any other way to be. He was always critical and it got worse when he was stressed or upset. Both qualified for his current mood.

That she wasn’t bringing him his knives didn’t help. He shot her a decidedly unpleasant look and curled backward from the cot – further away. He didn’t like anyone near him. It wasn’t personal.

What was uncomfortable was how… she seemed so determined to try and... what? Make it better? Make him comfortable? He didn’t think there was much that anyone could do to make him more comfortable, it wasn’t anything that would come faster; only time would make him okay with Selenitas. It wasn’t home. It wasn’t. No matter how many times people told him otherwise, his mind couldn’t make the connection. Home was cold stone walls, a chill in the air and the sound of metal; home was closed and locked doors, guarded faces and the sound of prisoners being broken for information. Selenitas was none of those things – while more positive in many ways, it was unfamiliar and awkward. And hot.

“I took something blunt to the head. I’ve lost enough blood that it caused me to lose consciousness, among other things. Yes, I’m cold, but I don’t think that it is anything another blanket would fix.” The way that he spoke was highly technical to disguise the alarm he felt; being weak didn’t appeal to him at all. “I would appreciate being brought a pair of pants, though. The infirmary gowns are awkward, and apparently my clothes were… destroyed.” He didn’t elaborate on why out of consideration; it would probably not make her happy to find out they’d been covered in dirt and his own blood. He’d asked because he hated not having pants. It was possibly the most embarrassing situation he’d ever been in. He took pride in not getting injured very often, after all. That and being without pants in a strange place was just… horrible.

Her explanation of who she was earned a slight nod. “Ciceroth beat you to it,” he said with a crinkle of his nose. “But he probably didn’t have to.” The way that she looked at him was enough to make it obvious who she was but Ka’rys had tact enough to not say that. “I don’t feel comfortable eating when even the water here is poisoned. It’s not personal, and I appreciate that you didn’t bring me something that would definitely make me sick but – I don’t really want food. I also don’t think I can keep anything down right now because I’ve been nauseous since I woke up. It would be a waste for me to even bother… why can’t you bring me my knives?”

[kysseh]

He didn’t appreciate her explanation, she reasoned, and Savitri did not bother to hide the expression of upset that flitted briefly across her face before she managed to get herself under control. It was hard, constantly keeping her expressions and feelings in check, but it was a habit that was--or had been, really--rubbing off on her from her weyrmate. But while he was still her weyrmate in some sense, she was a stranger to him. But he was no stranger to her in some ways. The blank expression and narrowed eyes said much.

She shook her head in the negative at his statement, still stung by the critical way that he said her name. That tone was… unpleasant and made her want to cringe away from him, even if she simply sat still and attempted to cover her dismay. “No… it hasn’t changed,” she stated quietly, letting out a slow exhale in a feeble attempt to calm her nerves. It was odd to be this jittery around her own weyrmate, though the look he sent her and the motions away from herself made it very clear that he was feeling even more uncomfortable with her. It was unfair on a number of levels, and she sighed, rubbing the side of her neck for lack of something better to do.

The detailed description of his condition sounded strange coming from his own mouth, though the goldrider neglected to mention that to the edgy bronzerider. Instead, she nodded in compliance with his request, making a mental note to bring a few other things from their weyr as well. Pants… probably his loose pair for flights. Those were easy to get on. One of those old gray shirts would be nice too. She had hidden a few away as nightshirts for herself, but maybe seeing one of the contested items would bring back some memories that were fragmented by the blow to the head. “The clothes weren’t… weren’t really fit to be used anymore. I’ll bring you some from our… your… weyr.”

She could not help the flush that rose to her cheeks, a flush that was probably visible even in the semi-darkness of the room. Both hands rubbed at her forearms, her gaze flicking about to avoid landing on the bronzerider and making her embarrass herself further with more blushing. “I should have expected he’d tell you. Felt weird saying it,” she admitted, finally managing to look back at him with no small amount of curiosity. “It’s… all right. They’ve tested the food, and it’s safe, but… can’t blame you for being paranoid. The girls aren’t on solids yet, or I’d be more worried.” Truthfully, both Keravi and Samera were old enough to be eating more solid foods, but neither seemed especially eager to go on a diet of whole foods and give up nursing. Savitri was disinclined to force them too. “Hopefully your appetite comes back. Can’t have you turning into a skeleton. When the other healers are sure you aren’t going to knife anyone by accident, I’ll bring you your knives. They’re… a little worried since you don’t really remember anyone here.”

I am sure he would choose to remember you if he could. Hepaticath crooned softly into Savitri’s mind, curling up tighter on her weyrledge for added warmth. On a whim, the queen reached out to touch the mind of her mate to offer comfort. Is there anything I can do for you, PlaymateMine? I worry for you.

[glamourie]

Awkward. It was a really good thing that Ka’rys was very good at hiding his emotions – else he probably would’ve shown a reaction to the upset on her face: annoyance. It wasn’t personal, per say; he didn’t even know her, not anymore, and he didn’t know how to react to her being clearly upset by his words. His default response to people being bothered by him was dismissal, but something told him that wouldn’t be that beneficial to him. That and he had a hulking bronze conscience informing him that he didn’t need to be so mean. Twit. She looked jittery and he thought that he should have felt guilty for that. But he didn’t feel guilty. What Ka’rys felt was anxious and eager to hide. He didn’t know her, but she clearly knew him, and that put him at an unpleasant disadvantage. He usually studied people extensively before even talking to them. So many people knew more about him – but she probably was the worst. That thought alone put him ill at ease and Ka’rys fidgeted, against his better judgment.

“Thank you,” was the only response that he could think of to offer. At least pants were a small victory. No knives, fine, but pants… he was justified in wanting those, that wasn’t an unrealistic request and unless Selenitas was beyond ridiculous and thought he’d strangle someone with them, he didn’t see how they were dangerous. They were significantly less so than leaving him in the stupid hospital gown that made him feel vulnerable.

Her blushing did little to ease his discomfort, though he did not blush; Ka’rys’s response was to fix Savitri with a silent, penetrating stare, plaintively asking for her to stop. Just stop with the awkward. It wasn’t something that he could give voice because tactless or not, he understood that the residual discomfort caused to him was not intentional. It just… happened. His head bowed as she continued to speak, primarily to keep his gaze off of her – lest she take his own agitation as anger or something worse. He didn’t know Savitri at all and he was uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. It was tempting to feign sleep to escape having to deal with the awkward. Cowardly? Maybe.

“Food tested or not, I’m really not hungry to begin with.” He wasn’t, either, though that probably had a lot to do with nerves. Ka’rys never got hungry when he was jittery. Probably better for his health that way too, since he didn’t often get jittery without good reason… or so he thought. He was a touch biased in that regard. “I’m sure my appetite will come back eventually.” Possibly when he didn’t feel like throwing up any time he was awake for long periods of time. “R’wign keeps giving me fellis shots. That is likely part of why I’m not hungry; fellis makes me nauseous.” It also put him to sleep and he strongly suspected that was why the healer was waving around the syringes like they were the savior of all things living. That and he refused to take any other kind of pain killer, so it was all that he could be forced to endure (typically because R’wign was sneaky). “When I can go off the pain killers, I’m sure my sense of hunger will return.” For better or worse. He didn’t want to be hungry, or take food from that place. Creeps.

Crinkling his nose, Ka’rys decided to let the knife point drop. He couldn’t argue with the fact that he was prone to stabbing when uncomfortable, even if he hated the idea of being without weapons. He could’ve pointed out that he was as dangerous with his hands but that might get him put in restraints and his rage would know no bounds if that happened. Better to keep his mouth shut. His response was just a slight bob of his head before he curled back further. Nice corner. Safe corner.

Unless you can fix Rysmine, then no, was Ciceroth’s only response to Hepaticath; there was nothing in his voice to indicate his mood. He was bothered – naturally – but… at least Ka’rys had calmed down a lot. Small mercies. I’m sorry for how he is behaving toward Yours. He’s trying, for what it is worth. He doesn’t mean to upset, if he has. He’s really trying to be good… but he doesn’t remember, and she makes him nervous.