No Longer Safety [Ka'rys]

[glamourie]

Ophelie cocked her head slightly and eyed Vira with a puzzled look. She did not move closer. The furry thing made her sneeze. It wasn’t good, like her furry thing; her furry thing didn’t make her sneeze (usually). Hmph. But it wasn’t coming near her, hmm hmm. Her fuzzy usually chased her when she flew around. Why wasn’t this one? It was broken, it was. She decided that the GoldThing had broken pets and flung one wing over her face in shame. Surely the fuzzy was embarrassing to them as much as it was to her; any fuzzy that made her sneeze was not a very good one indeed. She liked Hers much better; Hers, at least, let her lay on him. He was big, white and orange, and fluffy. This one… was perching on her minething. Ophelie twitched her tail and peeked at Vira skeptically. She wasn’t sure how much she liked that; he was hers, you see, and she only shared him with the fuzzy and the other one, but the other one was gone…

And then the furball was being removed. Ka’rys resisted the urge to wince as Savitri took Vira away, and his gaze followed the feline half-longingly. He really didn’t like the idea of stripping where Aliscia could see it, even if she wasn’t in their side of the weyr. For all he knew, she’d come make some condescending remark. He was not normally shy, but at times, Ka’rys could be. One of the few things he was insecure about was his body, which heavily stemmed from being called ugly most of his life. He didn’t think he was, but he definitely wasn’t as superficial as, say, R’wign; he could never wander around mostly-naked and let everyone see. He had some trouble even going without clothing outside of his weyr, period. Ciceroth took advantage of that when he was younger to try and loosen him up and for awhile, it worked. Then there was Shmee and any comfort he had with his own nudity was all but destroyed. He’d never told anyone that, though, and had no intentions of doing so.

Her hands went for the edge of his shirt and he froze, but didn’t protest; he never minded Savitri. It wasn’t her who made him feel insecure. He smiled, weakly, and bowed his head. His good arm went up, but he couldn’t really move the bad one that much and it hurt to do so at all. When the shirt was finally off, he gratefully dropped both arms to his sides, and his good hand came back to the cut on his face. “No numbweed,” he said seriously; he didn’t want to be drugged into unconsciousness again. “Not in enough pain for any kind of pain killers today.” Actually, he was, but he was decidedly not telling her that. Odds were, Savitri would over-estimate how much pain he was in, knock him out, or even worse, he’d take some kind of pain killer and fall asleep on his own. He was tired enough to do it, and Ka’rys didn’t want to sleep. Not until he knew Kalerary was okay. He wasn’t sure he could sleep. No doubt his dreams would have images of his daughter covered in her own blood -- and probably Savitri, too. His imagination was so generous.

Rysmine is too upset. It wasn’t really a protest, so much as a statement. Ciceroth couldn’t sleep. He was comfortable, yes, very much so, but he couldn’t drift into unconsciousness with RysHis in such a fit. They were too close, the two of them; the second His got into a funk, he knew it, and it usually disturbed his ability to rest. Rysmine wants to go down to Aslath’s old weyr and set up an infirmary. He wants to see the hatchling, and won’t sleep until he has. He’s very worried. I can’t rest until he can. Nevertheless, he did relax himself against Hepaticath; it was the best he could do, but his gaze was all on Ka’rys, the bronze rider the primary focus of his attention. RysHis; he’d picked him, after all, and it was his job to protect him… He was doing well at it, he thought, but RysHis was so upset…

“So basically, you’re going to steal it back from me. I thought you hated these shirts. You told me they fit me terribly. How ugly they were in color. You made a big fuss,” Ka’rys pointed out, then froze as she leaned in to kiss him. His head bowed and he smiled slightly, then raised an eyebrow. “You intend to hold my own belongings against me, ‘vi? Refusing to return them…? What would I have to do to get the shirt back? Maybe I liked the shirt. I’ve accepted you refuse to give back the pillow. Little bandit.”

[kysseh]

While Vira had settled her fluffy self on Savitri’s lap to purr, the goldrider was more intently focused on the man before her. Favoring that arm still, he was, and she frowned slightly in recognition of that pain. After setting aside his wet shirt, careful and practiced fingers ran along the favored arm, feeling for abnormalities. Hmph. Broken it again, had he? She could set it and bind it to immobility for him. That would have to wait until he was dry, though, and getting dry meant he had to remove all of the offending wet clothing. Her nose wrinkled up momentarily as she recognized that the bronzerider was just not going to like that. He had seemed tense enough about getting just the shirt removed.

“No numbweed, then,” she said softly, carefully releasing his arm and then stroking her fingers along his skin, proving just at the outside edges of the slash on his side. She couldn’t feel anything left in the wound, and it looked clean. The water had probably helped with that. “I’ll bandage that up once you’re dry.” Seeing him wounded twisted at her heart, and she had to fight the urge to pull the bronzerider into her lap and just cuddle his torso against her chest, as if it would do any good at all. Well, it would provide comfort for her, but dragging him around could further damage the wounds or that painful arm. His mind was probably anywhere but at the present moment, though. Worrying about Kalerary, worrying about… anything and everything. She was surprised he was responding to her at all, especially given the wide-eyed expression of shock he had given her upon her announcement. His mind was probably far away, though she could scarcely blame him.

Ciceroth seemed determined to stay awake until Ka’rys was settled, and though Hepaticath was of the private opinion that RysCiceroth’s was just never going to be calm, the bronze got no immediate response to his statement. Instead, the gold shifted her weight just a bit to allow the bronze to lean against her more fully. She did not mind being his couch or his comfort, and, truthfully, having him flopped against her was quite reassuring. The gold had been frightened that serious harm could come to Ciceroth or RysHis. Hepaticath was unsure which of the pair she had feared for more. The gold loved SavitriHers, and losing the bronzerider would have devastated Hers. Flopping the end of her tail over his, the young queen crooned at her cuddle partner in wordless reassurance that she understood that he needed to focus on His. She needed to be organizing things anyway.

“They are ugly in cut and color, but… most of my nightclothes are too tight over my chest right now,” Savitri was muttering rebelliously. The goldrider’s constant shiftings of discomfort had dislodged Vira, who now padded her way over to Ophelie to investigate. The humanthings were useless for attention at the moment, so maybe the wingy-thingy would pat her. That’s what it had those enormous wings for, right? The little kitten offered up a purr of suggestion, sniffing curiously at the flit. Was it going to pet her or not?

Rolling her eyes at her pet, Savitri reached over to snag a dry towel from the pile to wrap around Ka’rys’s shoulders. At least he would have a bit of warmth now. “I’m holding the pillow and the shirt since I can’t have you. But if you’re that desperate to have them back, then fine.” It came out sharper than she intended, again, and she immediately snapped her mouth shut, bowing her head in a feeble attempt to calm herself. “I’m… I’m sorry. You should really take these off so I can get you dry,” she said, working her hands beneath the waistband of his pants and attempting to peel the wet fabric off. She was embarrassed enough by her own little outburst that she managed to not be distracted by the fact of where her hands were. A first, to be sure.

[glamourie]

“It’s not that bad,” Ka’rys said softly, his gaze turning down toward his side. The slash there stung, yes, undoubtedly, but… it wasn’t that severe; it was just a surface wound. The location made it painful, but pain was nothing unknown to the bronze rider. He’d endured beatings as a child that would’ve broken the average person. A simple slash wasn’t going to hurt him that much… but it would stain the shirt if he didn’t get it taken care of before he put that on. Still… he wasn’t in any hurry to be treated. If he were to be completely honest, letting Savitri handle his wounds was one of his least favorite things ever. Once, Kalierre had referred to her as one of his “favored healers” but she’d been wrong; Savitri always worried, more so than the average healer, because she was someone important to him and vice versa. That meant she was the last person he wanted looking at his injuries… and usually the first to volunteer to do so. He was intelligent enough not to let her know any of that, though. She’d take offense, and he wasn’t entirely sure it would be unfounded. So instead, he focused his attention on the cut on his side, and kept his gaze from Savitri’s, in hopes that she wouldn’t pick up on his discomfort. It didn’t look that bad, at least. “It’s just bleeding a bit because of the location, really…”

That, at least, was true. The wound didn’t hurt at all. Whether that was because his arm hurt so much as to block out the pain or a genuine lack of hurt was because of the injury being so minor was unclear. Whatever it was, he was sure that any fussing was unmerited. After all, he wasn’t bleeding that profusely. There were surely worse injuries. Like Z’hin’s. Ka’rys’s stomach flipped over again and it took all of his effort not to turn away to vomit. So many people dead. So many. The feeling of it being his fault was terrible. Even though there was nothing he could do (and he knew that, realistically), he felt… like he’d failed. He’d failed somehow and nothing he did after could fix it. He’d let Z’hin die. He’d let Wynmuri die. Even R’non. It was his fault. He’d failed them, and in the end, there was no coming back from that, no redemption. He failed.

That bad feeling was temporarily pushed out of his mind by the teasing from Savitri and Ka’rys offered her a slight smile. It was genuine, if weak. His heart wasn’t really in the teasing, but he didn’t want to worry her by being totally silent. No doubt that would’ve been the worst reaction he could give her. Depressingly, it was the one he felt most comfortable with… because silence meant he could brood, and brooding was really what he felt like doing. He kept that to himself. At least until he was alone, he was determined to pretend he didn’t feel horrible. She might, and might not, believe it; he didn’t know, but surely that would be received better than the horrible feelings on the inside. Pretend to be at least… relieved. Not completely depressed. Tease. It seemed kinder than wallowing in his own misery in front of her. Savitri needed him to be strong. Right…?

“Maybe I like the way your current shirts fit you,” he teased, one eyebrow raising suggestively. It was an effort, but… he was trying. Maybe if he pretended to be okay for long enough, he would be…? Wallowing wasn’t his style. He was sure once he saw Kalerary, he’d feel a lot better. That or he’d just tear some poor unfortunate’s face off (verbally) and receive relief. That was actually the more likely response, but… no need to dwell. No dwelling. He blinked as she wrapped the towel around his shoulders, and took it with his good hand to towel-dry his hair. Once that was dry, the rest of him would be easier, right? -- Having only one arm was extremely inconvenient, though. Awkward. “You don’t have to hold my clothing hostage. You have me, don’t you?” His eyebrows raised slightly, ignoring the bite in her tone; he was not going to fight with her. He wasn’t. He refused.

Next to him, Ophelie took a keen interest in the fluffy thing approaching her. Her eyes whirled curiously and she leaned forward to sniff at Vira before bouncing back. Puzzled by what it wanted from her, she chirruped inquiringly. Why was it being confusing…?

Hands at his waist drew Ka’rys’s attention away from Savitri’s words and he squirmed awkwardly… decidedly not helping. He didn’t like the idea of stripping naked with Aliscia so nearby, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to fuss with his leg. It didn’t hurt that bad anymore, and moving it even slightly would make the pain come back, he just knew it. Even though he understood the wet clothes had to come off… he didn’t fancy doing so. He shot Ciceroth a nervous look and the bronze rumbled his amusement - entirely unhelpful. Then to Hepaticath and Ka’rys both, he stated softly, Checkoth’s is going to move Behruth’s and the hatchling to Aslath’s weyr. We should be there to meet them. Checkoth’s is hurt rather badly. Flipping his tail, Ciceroth added, Stop bickering, Rysmine; the faster you cooperate, the sooner you can do something constructive… and see the hatchling again.

[kysseh]

The slash could do with cleaning. Cleaning, bandaging... healing. She could do all of those things, but somehow, that seemed insufficient for what Ka'rys needed... or for what either of them needed, for that matter. Every few moments, Hepaticath would inform her of another name to add to the list of the deceased. Tears sparkled, threatened to spill over again. So many were lost. So many. The wherhandlers seemed to be very numerous among the deceased. Weyrlings, dragonriders, weyrfolk... and Faranth-only-knew how many patients that were trapped in the Infirmary when the building... exploded. A fresh wave of nausea overtook her at the memory of the faces of those unconscious and trapped in the inferno. People she had treated, had lived with. Unlike the Benden strangers, whom she would have more easily (albeit still with great guilt) left to their fate, they had been her people left inside.

She choked back the tears and made a valiant attempt to cover it with coughing. The coughing was not entirely faked, mostly because her lungs, throat, and nose still burned from the smoke and the heat. She suspected that her ability to properly smell things would be hampered for awhile, but- why was that important? It wasn't. People were dead, and she was slightly upset that she was coughing, upset that her... lover?... was less than thrilled about their child. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't asked for another child to have to care for or worry about. He hadn't even asked for her to end up in his bed--or her bed, really--that day. Rubbing her eyes furiously against her sleeve without moving her hand from the waistband of his pants, she made a conscious effort to cover her distress. Ka'rys had enough to worry about. There was little need to add to it.

"Stop.... squirming and help me," she managed weakly, carefully trying to work his pants down his hips and off his legs. He was only delaying the inevitable. "If your leg hurts that much, I can... just cut the pants off you if you like, though I think you'd rather it... this way." His words should have been more comforting than they were. She did have him, didn't she? She had him in her weyr, on occasion. He was alive and safe, with her. That, at least, was cause for celebration, and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek again, unable to resist the temptation of close contact. So what if her breasts happened to brush his chest, considering he had just spoken of enjoying the fit of her shirts? Wet shirt now, though only where their chests had touched. "I do have you. And I am grateful for it."

Checkoth's is bringing the LittleHatchling and Behruth's to Aslath's weyr. Checkoth's is hurt. They will need you. Hepaticath murmured softly to Hers, recognizing the silent acknowledgment that the goldrider sent in response. Her attention swiftly returned to Ciceroth, and she lightly rubbed her muzzle against his leg. I have told Mine that Checkoth's is coming with them. She understands. She is very upset, and I am sorry that she upsets Yours. Her words to the bronze were also quiet, and she crooned softly in emphasis.

While Vira continued to purr and sniff at Ophelie in a well-intentioned effort for attention, Savitri tried to mentally busy herself with her to-do list. They would need beds for the wounded. Cots... or... really, just some kind of mats for the floor would do, temporarily. Putting Kalerary and Ka'rys in with the rest of the wounded rankled at her, though. Aslath's weyr was just next door. Perhaps... "You and Kalerary... you two can stay in here, where I can keep an eye on you both. I wanted you to stay anyway, but-" Her words trailed off into a one-shouldered shrug. But... it was just an excuse to encourage them to stay? A good excuse, it was, no less, but an excuse nonetheless. "I want you two to stay... here, with me. Well... and Ciceroth and the rest, but... just to be here."

[glamourie]

Ka’rys fixed Savitri with an intense stare. Her hands working at his pants were only minutely distracting; the upset on her face was considerably more so. Trying to hide it though she was, Ka’rys saw right through her. It was obvious that the gold rider was on the verge of crying and… there wasn’t really much he could do for her, even though he wanted to. Lately, though, it seemed he couldn’t do anything right… he couldn’t protect the infirmary and people were killed, he couldn’t protect his wing riders and Z’hin and Wynmuri were dead as a result, he couldn’t protect Kalerary and who knew how bad her injuries were (the image he saw was not at all good). And he obviously couldn’t protect Savitri. She was on the verge of tears, rubbing her face, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it, to help her -- what could he do? The feeling of helplessness was not welcome. Ka’rys didn’t respond very well to it. He bowed his head to try and hide his expression from view.

“I don’t want them off,” he said with a mild note of agitation in his voice; it was not angry, but there was definitely displeasure in how he spoke. It wasn’t that he had a problem with losing his pants around Savitri (ha ha), but… Aliscia was another story. How could he make her understand that? Without coming right out and saying it? And the tears in her eyes were not fair. He didn’t want her crying - not over him… or anything else. Didn’t she realize how unfair she was being? Crinkling his nose, Ka’rys lifted himself off the ground slightly to push his pants down and gave Savitri a disapproving look. He’d caved, but he wasn’t happy about it, not at all. After a moment, he managed to push the damp fabric completely off and then shot her a look before pulling the towel down to wipe at his legs. Cold. Cold. Cold.

The rest of her words made him freeze mid-toweling himself off. Leave Kalerary in Savitri’s weyr…? But what about when Savitri was on duty in the infirmary? She’d be alone. He wanted Kalerary watched constantly. If she was hurt, he wanted every healer at her bedside, fixating on her. Savitri couldn’t watch her constantly, or at least, she shouldn’t have -- she needed to rest. Didn’t she realize that? Sharding woman, why did she have to make life difficult at the most unusual times? Sigh. There was no way to explain that without Savitri taking it personally -- but he couldn’t keep quiet.

“I’d rather Kalerary stay in the infirmary. You have to sleep sometimes, and you’re going to be on duty part of the time, too. I want to make sure she’s watched over constantly - more hours than you can dedicate.” Also, if something went wrong, he didn’t want Savitri’s head on the chopping block… and there would be a chopping block. He was incapable of detaching where his child was concerned. Every slight pain she felt, someone was going to be throttled. He didn’t want the person dealing with his over-protective neurosis to be the woman he cared the most for. That would be decidedly awkward. Somehow, he doubted that Savitri would be grateful for seeing how completely crazed he could be, either. “I’ll stay here -- as long as you’ll have me -- but I want Kalerary to be watched… watched by someone not you.” Pausing, because he knew she was going to take that badly, Ka’rys sighed. “I’m worried, ‘vi, and I get mean when I’m worried. I don’t want you on the receiving end of that. Please do me a favor and don’t take offense. Now - where are my pants?”

Just as Ka’rys started looking for said pants, a colorful group of fire lizards arrived from between. Their presence was announced by chittering and fluting, and their merry leader Ellie flew down to perch right next to Savitri. All of the fire lizards landed - all five, for once, instead of just four (even Collision was awake!) - and took to flashing images of R’wign to both Ka’rys and Savitri. Flapping her wings, Ellie fluted up toward Savitri, her eyes whirling her distress. Her silent plea was simple: Wouldn’t they help Hers? She sent another image of Jabari lying on M’ta’s chest and bounced back and forth nervously. Hers was hurt, she wanted him helped, please, oh please?

The little cousin is worried about Hers, Ciceroth told Ka’rys in translation, as he nuzzled up to Hepaticath. Her body provided warmth which was very appealing to him. And about Behruth’s; he’s hurt as well. To Hepaticath, he added, Checkoth says that HealerHis is coughing up their red-blood. He asks me to tell Yours, but none Mine. His does not want Rysmine to know. Will you tell her, please? And you needn’t apologize; Yours is doing nothing wrong. Rysmine is upset, but not at her. Just in general…

[kysseh]

Why was he staring at her? Was he going to scold her about tears and weakness, being insensible and emotional? If he was, then Savitri was fairly sure she was going to scream at him. She felt something emotional building in her chest. It was unfamiliar and going to take her off guard whenever it--whatever it happened to be--emerged from her mouth, which was probably why she scrubbed her eyes harder against her sleeve, barely noticing that Ka’rys had lowered his head. Something was awry with him. Something… that was probably the same something that Ciceroth had informed her, via Hepaticath, was not to be discussed. Perfect. So Ka’rys was wallowing, Savitri felt like she was going to emotionally vomit, and the weyr was in pieces.

She hated Benden.

Her fingers, trembling but still capable, helped him rid himself of the wet pants, though she let him take the lead with drying his own legs. Her intervention in that area would probably be most unhelpful, and he seemed incredibly displeased with her. She ducked her head to cover her upset at that, sure of the fact that her face was clearly displaying every thought that crossed her mind. Her brain-face filter was usually progressively turned off with the rise in emotional intensity, and by now, she was almost nauseous by the upwelling of emotion. Ugh. Perhaps seeing Kalerary and affirming that she was well, having patients to treat, having things to organize… yes, perhaps that would calm her down.

Though, Ka’rys’s reaction to her offer did nothing to help the feeling of general queasiness, and Savitri half-sobbed out a laugh that could have been a choke. She wasn’t sure. They all sounded the same. He was talking about wanting Kalerary in the infirmary… under someone else’s watch. She tried to not be offended, tried to focus on spreading redwort over the slash on his side and on his face. ”…watched by someone not you.” Not her. Did he not trust her with his child? Did he honestly think she would try to treat something beyond her own skills? No, he just wanted Kalerary watched constantly, and Savitri had to reluctantly acknowledge that she would be too busy to watch every rise and fall of the child’s chest, even if she would have gladly done so. At his request for a favor, she gave a terse nod, carefully working on wrapping his dry torso with bandages to halt the bleeding and keep the wound covered. She was already offended; that was too late to be fixed. But… still, some sort of response was necessary. “I’ll make sure she’s tended to in the infirmary, then.” Since that was all she was allowed to do, apparently.

Just as she finished bandaging and the bronzerider inquired about the dry pants--could he not see the dry pants and shirt she had placed on the ground just beside him?--the air around them erupted into the sounds of concerned flitters. She recognized R’wign’s little queen in particular, swallowing down a fresh wave of nausea at the images she received. Shards, but M’ta and R’wign both looked awful. The firelizards had provided no images of Kalerary, but she assumed the girl was no better off, particularly with Ka’rys so riled. “I’ll help them as best I can, all right?” she said softly to the little firelizard, lowering a hand to the anxious creature in an attempt to soothe her.

Of course, then Hepaticath had to pass along the information that R’wign was coughing up blood, and Savitri’s nausea turned from purely emotional to partly physical in the blink of an eye. She immediately pressed the back of one hand to her mouth and rocked slightly in her kneeling position, trying to will herself to calm down. Coughing up blood was never a good thing, and the fact that one of the weyr's most senior healers, a person she knew, was coughing it up just made it that much more upsetting. Be calm, love. Be calm. It will all be fine. Hepaticath soothed her softly, alarmed at Savitri’s sudden response. Perhaps it was the water in her stomach, making her ill? Yes, that was the problem, the gold decided.

I have told Mine. She is distressed, but she will not tell Yours about Checkoth’s. I think she is ill. Hepaticath said rather tensely to Ciceroth, her eyes focused on Hers. It was not the bronze she was angry with, though she did rather want to give His a good licking to wake him to his senses. Didn’t RysCiceroth’s see that Hers needed to be comforted? She needs to rest. She will not, but she needs to. The gold’s anxious croon belied her concern, one gold wing almost absently draping itself over the bronze’s body while her tail lashed back and forth in agitation.

[glamourie]

She just was determined to take offense no matter what he said, wasn’t she? And he felt tired. Very, very tired, and drained. Ka’rys wanted nothing more than to roll over and go to sleep right there in the floor in that moment, for it certainly would have been more satisfying than trying to continue a conversation doomed to failure. Every time he spoke, her expression got worse. He didn’t know how to make it better. He was on the verge of hysteria himself -- too much happening at once and Savitri was, perhaps unintentionally, making it worse by reacting so badly to everything. What was he supposed to do, say? Why did nothing come with instructions? He would’ve felt so much better if he knew that Kalerary was okay, but she wasn’t and the images the fire lizards were showing him made him worry about R’wign, too -- shard it all. He crinkled his nose, one hand coming up to spread over his face before he finished drying himself off carefully. He’d feel better if he was doing something instead of just sitting on the floor wallowing. He was practical when upset; it was one of Ka’rys’s better traits. He felt like falling apart, which meant his productivity level was probably through the roof. He needed to do something. Anything.

Silently, Ka’rys took to watching as she insistently treated the slash wounds. They weren’t bad, and they didn’t even hurt -- but if it made her feel better, he wouldn’t fuss. His mind was elsewhere anyway, and the arrival of the fire lizards near him did nothing to soothe his mood. His head cocked to the side and he watched them for a moment before grabbing his pants and pulling them on all in one fluid motion. Then he snatched up the shirt and pulled it over his head. The cold was instantly remedied, at least on the outside. The hollowed out feeling he had inside wasn’t fixed, but that -- that wasn’t going away, and he’d come to terms with that for now.

“You should get something to drink, and something to eat. It’s been a long time since you ate anything, and you’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t,” Ka’rys said softly, glancing across the weyr toward where Aliscia had run off. Was there food over there…? “I think R’wign’s fire lizards can bring you water or something if you ask them. If you’re insistent on helping with setting up the infirmary, we could ask them to bring things there. The drudges are probably scrambling in confusion. I’ll ask Ciceroth to get them to prepare some kind of stew. After all of this, there are going to be a lot of cold and hungry people, and food generally helps comfort. Or -- would you prefer Hepaticath to…?” It might have made Savitri feel better to feel like she was doing something, and Weyrwomen generally handled the morale of the Weyr. He didn’t know what she was up to doing or not.

Next to Savitri, Ellie leaned over and actively took a sniff at the girl’s hand before flying up to land on Hepaticath’s tail. Flapping her wings in distress, she flashed another image of R’wign, this time to Savitri alone; it was of her bonded with his face completely covered in blood, before he’d bandaged it. Twittering in distress, she bounced back and forth, clearly not to be consoled by mere words. Hers was very hurt, very sick, and there was nothing she could do about it. He’d asked her to come ahead and get help, and she would do just that! Why were the two legged things not moving, not moving to help Hers? Didn’t they know that Hers was hurting? Didn’t they care? Her worry magnified, and sent the rest of R’wign’s fire lizard into chattering and twittering frenzies, while Ellie flapped her wings. She was clearly on the verge of full-blown panic, but then, considering R’wign’s injuries, it probably would surprise no one. She loved her bonded, she did.

Ciceroth did not miss the edge in Hepaticath’s tone… but, unlike the gold, he didn’t much care. Maybe it was self-absorbed, but he really did not care much about Savitri’s emotional state; he was aware she was upset, just like Ka’rys was, but both of them were practical entities. There was no time for tears and hysteria, or attempts at comfort. RysHis wanted to make sure that the Weyr was safe first - and Ciceroth agreed with him. He was smart enough, however, not to give voice to that thought. Arguing with a gold was rarely intelligent and he doubted Hepaticath would appreciate the blatant disregard of her rider’s feelings at the current time. He usually put Savitri’s feelings before others, but… RysHis was very, very upset over the state of Selenitas, and would not be calmed until he knew there was a triage set up, food for those who needed it, and rescue efforts on the injured. To expect anything less -- well, Ciceroth did not believe RysHis was capable of anything but focusing on work when he was stressed out, and he didn’t fault him.

He did, however, pass some of the message along: Hepaticath’s is sick. You should try to calm her down.

“I’M TRYING!” Ciceroth flinched back slightly and Ka’rys winced, then turned to frown apologetically at the bronze. Then he turned to Savitri and reached his good hand over to rest on her shoulder before sighing. It wasn’t Ciceroth’s fault he was stressed out - and the dragon recognized that; he was good at reading His. The outburst probably would do nothing to make Savitri relax, though, so many softer tones would -- she needed to calm down before she sent herself into a regular set of fits. And -- that level of stress, while pregnant -- (the thought still made him feel nervous, especially after failing Kalerary so blatantly) -- was definitely not good for the baby… “You need to eat and rest. I’ll set up the infirmary - you need to try and calm down. You’re just going to make yourself sick if you keep working, and I don’t want both of the women I love in cots in the infirmary. Please…?”

[kysseh]

“I’m fine, Rys.”

The reply to his statement about getting her fed was almost automatic, tumbling from her lips almost before Savitri’s brain could process the fact that she was most distinctly not fine. Her current disinterest in food, though, was not out of a lack of hunger but instead stemmed from the uneasy feeling in her gut. She was not sure if opening her mouth again would result in emotional or just actual vomit, and adding food to an already queasy stomach was unwise, at best. She would set up the makeshift infirmary and then sneak in a sip or two of tea to calm the nausea. Yes, she liked that idea just fine.

While Ka’rys had been dressing himself, the attack on Savitri’s hair had begun. The mess had grown down to about her shoulders in recent months, and the previously discarded comb now had its teeth buried in the tousled mess that she sported for a current hairstyle. So what if she wasn’t being very gentle? It was just hair, and right now, it was in the way. After a few strands were painfully ripped out, the largest of the knots seemed to be gone, and the remainder of the combing went easily, despite the fact that Savitri’s gaze was tracking R’wign’s flitters. “If you could have Ciceroth ask them… please? Hepaticath is still trying to get a sense of who’s… alive. And she’s a little worked up at the moment,” Savitri said softly, rather chagrined at that fact. Hepaticath’s tension was largely her own fault, and Savitri knew that only time and her own contentment would soothe the gold’s nerves. Shardit. The queen’s nerves were only going to fuel Savitri’s own anxiety at this rate.

The goldrider’s gaze had focused now on Ellie, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes at the realization of the image that the little gold had given her. R’wign was hurt. R’wign… the more senior healer… hurt. The panic of R’wign’s flitters, instead of making Savitri want to throw a shoe at them in a feeble attempt at making them, was actually a positive thing. Distracting, it was, and Savitri needed a distraction before she made herself physically ill. “It’s all right. I’ll look after him,” she promised them, directing her words particularly at Ellie. Hepaticath, tell them to go make themselves useful. Have them tell the drudges to boil water or something…

Considering that was the best Savitri could come up with for the moment, Hepaticath momentarily abandoned her worrying and listening—she was not encouraged to hear Dohulth say that Phremath’s was in very, very bad condition—to calm the little flitters, especially the one that had taken up residence on her tail. It is all right, Little Ones. Mine needs food and water to help Yours. Go to the kitchen to make them boil water. How much the creatures could understand of her quiet commands was beyond Hepaticath’s knowledge, but she salted the query with images of drudges in the kitchen and giant pots of bubbling water. There. Perhaps that would keep the flitters from making Hers be sick.

The distraction of the flitters was not enough to keep Savitri from noticeably jumping at the bronzerider’s outburst. Her hands came away from her hair—now tied back in a small runnertail and out of her face—and braced themselves on the floor, ready to flee. Only Ka’rys’s hand and Hepaticath’s comforting croon kept her from immediately getting to her feet. His words, however, had her shaking her head. Love. Hmph. Fine way he had of showing it, he did, though it warmed her heart to hear it. Were she not feeling as though her meals from the last two days were going to make a return visit, she would have thanked him more physically for his concern. Still, she could and did smile for him before stroking his hand with her fingertips as she got her feet beneath herself. “Too many patients, Rys… and we’re short too many healers now. I have to… keep busy. I won’t be on a cot; I promise. You’d have to tie me do-“

Whatever else Savitri intended to say was cut short by a sound and sensation in her chest, somewhere between a hiccup and a gag. Immediately, the goldrider stumbled her way toward her weyrledge, heedless of Hepaticath’s concern, and dropped to her knees, emptying her stomach over the edge of the ledge and onto the shore a scant handbreadth below. Water, water, and more foul river water. Hmm. That explained the queasy feeling, and she sat back on her heels when it was finished, both armswrapped around her abdomen. That felt better. Much… much better.

[glamourie]

Of course she was fine. She was always fine -- until she wasn’t. Why did he even bother? Slightly irritated, Ka’rys made a pointed effort not to watch Savitri maul her hair. It was hard to keep from snapping back at her irritably. She made it difficult to be patient with her because while it was always fine for her to fuss at him, she always brushed it off when he fussed at her. Couldn’t she see that he was worried about her? Didn’t she care? Ka’rys swallowed all the self-righteous aggravation that he felt. It would do no good to lose his temper on her. While he was definitely justified (he knew) in finding Savitri’s attitude somewhat tiresome (did she need to lie, really?), there was no point in fighting about it after so much stress happened and he recognized his reaction as over the top, prompted by the stress of the attack. He was worn out, exhausted -- and Savitri was being difficult, whether she meant to or not. He wanted very badly to just curl into a small ball and try to forget the night ever happened. But -- that wasn’t an option.

“I’ll have Ciceroth ask them,” he said with a slight nod. The bronze would be irritated at having to speak (!!) to someone other than him directly, but he’d do it because he recognized the necessity of the action. He could just feel the annoyance from his mindmate, though, and it drew a slight smile to Ka’rys’s face that he just could not hide. It was good to know some things never changed. From the moment he hatched until adulthood, Ciceroth was a snob about who he addressed mind-to-mind. His explanation for it was simply, “You are Mine. They are not. You talk to them. I only talk to you because you’re Mine.” Evidently, only he was worthy of hearing His Majesty’s voice directly. It was an extremely amusing quirk from the otherwise good-tempered bronze --- and Ka’rys found it endlessly amusing. Especially since most people had no idea about that trait.

The laughter left his dark brown eyes as his gaze turned toward the panicking fire lizards, and he reached out to stroke along the back of the little green. The immediate response was for Roxie to jump around and look at Ka’rys in confusion, and he cocked his head to the side. Ellie, on the other hand, looked up at Hepaticath and cocked her head to the side as the larger gold spoke to her. Fluting her understanding, she chirped a command to her fair and then rose to wing before disappearing between. All of her fire lizards followed suit, and Ophelie went with them as well, leaving the weyr suddenly very devoid of sound in their wake. Ka’rys tilted his head, then he glanced at Ciceroth for an explanation -- no words were spoken aloud, but --?

The little cousins are upset over Theirs. I believe Hepaticath has asked them to make themselves useful rather than fussing, the bronze explained as best he could. The drudges have begun preparing a great deal of klah and soup for those who are hungry and extra hands have been alerted to go to Aslath’s weyr with any healing supplies spared. Others have begun boiling numbweed for the injured, and they are going to send word to the Holds for extra aid. I hope that Gareth and Millieth will not be agitated with us for becoming involved.

I don’t really care if they are.

His momentary distraction with Ciceroth was enough that he missed Savitri’s obvious agitation with his response. Her words made him crinkle his nose in obvious disapproval but that expression rapidly changed to a look of confused worry. Carefully, Ka’rys crawled on his knees after her (which was quite a comical sight considering that one of his legs was broken near the ankle) and stopped right behind, sitting in an almost perched position. One hand came up to rub Savitri’s back as soothingly as he could and he frowned, the expression covering the majority of his face. Some people would have been put off by the sight of their… weyrmate? … being violently ill; not him, but then, it took a lot to set Ka’rys on edge and his nerves were already fried as it was. The attack had pushed away his ability to function properly… but Savitri being sick was one of the least pressing concerns, especially given her earlier comments…

“… So,” he began as she sat back. Crawling up next to her, Ka’rys cocked his head to the side, and tried for a playful smile. Part of it was genuine but he was highly uncomfortable. “… Welcome to morning sickness, darling?” Pausing, he glanced toward the ledge, then back at Savitri. “Did that help any…?”