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Post by weaving on Apr 30, 2009 0:30:25 GMT -5
Stupid flamethrowers. She thoroughly blamed the contraption, even moreso than she blamed Benden, and if she didn’t think that Savitri and Kaegan would skin her alive, she probably would have gone and thrown all of them into the river. As it was, she was content never to personally deal with one again. Every time she accidentally bumped her shoulder and sent a fresh wave of pain through her body she cursed the flamethrowers loudly and thoroughly. Even after a sevenday of rest, her collarbone still ached constantly, though the healers insisted it was healing properly. After her fifth visit to the makeshift infirmary, they’d sent her away with a vial of fellis. It didn’t fix things but it sure made her feel better which was enough for the moment. They’d said that it should have healed completely within twelve sevendays but she hoped that it would heal faster than that. She could only focus one handed for so long.
Without thinking she rubbed at where the sling tied around her neck, hoping to readjust it. The cloth rubbed painfully against her skin, leaving chafe marks that vaguely resembled hickies. That thought had her snorting in amusement. If only it really was a hickey. At least that would mean she was getting some. She’d been able to ignore her more physical urgings for a while now. However, after she’d made it through the attack alive she found herself reevaluating life. Things that she’d thought she could live without were suddenly a necessity. Annoyances now hardly phased her. Brat seemed to benefit from the most, for she rarely restricted the salamandyr’s diet anymore. At the moment the gold was currently passed out in the greenrider’s furs, too stuffed from her last meal to move. It was probably better that way. Lennae doubted that Showoff would appreciate having another salamandyr in close proximity to His.
She awkwardly reworked the balled up shirt under her arm, which was far more difficult than it should have been. Honestly, she really shouldn’t even bother giving K’lir back his shirt. It was completely ruined. She’d done her best to work out the bloodstains, but she couldn’t possibly mend all the tears in it with only one arm. She’d probably simply buy him a new one come gather time but returning his shirt to him gave her an excuse to see him. She didn’t even know if he was okay. Only the fact that Amith had confirmed that Calistoth wasn’t dead told her that he was in fact alive. She hadn’t seen him during the attack and he hadn’t been around the infirmary afterward. Surely R’wign would have checked on him, though the healer was probably preoccupied with the craziness of all the injured weyrfolk as well as his own injury. She grimaced at the thought. As much as she complained about her collarbone, at least it was only a temporary injury.
Ah, yes, there it was. She stopped in front of K’lir’s weyr, pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts. The door to his weyr was cracked ajar, though it was impossible to tell if anyone was inside or not. She ran her fingers through her hair awkwardly, doing her best not to drop K’lir’s shirt. She didn’t know why she was so fidgety and after shaking her head at her actions, she raised her fist and rapped her knuckles lightly on his door. Too late to back out now, though why she was nervous about this encounter was beyond her. One might think she were a teenage ‘brat with her first crush from her actions which was just silly. She was old enough to handle her feelings like an adult, wasn’t she?
“Lir?”
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Post by glamourie on May 2, 2009 1:34:09 GMT -5
He felt like a coward.
Not that the feeling was anything new -- K’lir was very much the sort to run from a fight any chance it came up than stand and actually duke it out. Big mouth, yes, but he was small and small people didn’t usually hold their own well in combat. A few exceptions could be made, certainly, but K’lir wasn’t one of them. Growing up at Selenitas taught him to pick his battles wisely, and he was more the humiliate-and-clobber emotionally sort than the type to fight fist-to-fist. He couldn’t take many hits. Often, K’lir felt like a coward; or at least, he felt like he wasn’t as courageous as most other green riders. People like Aliscia, Wynmuri, even Kalierre - they made him feel pathetic most of the time. But typically, he could ignore that feeling, that sense of being weaker. He was conceited enough to tune that feeling out with the belief that he was a lover not a fighter and he’d let the fighters handle their own affairs. Simple logic, right? He handled conflicts his own way and they handled it theirs. However, Selenitas being attacked -- that was different. Very, very different.
His home, the place he’d been raised, was attacked… by Benden, again. And rather than run to the front lines, he’d stayed with Calistoth and Kahrelir, in his own weyr. He should’ve gone to his station - it was at the infirmary - but he didn’t. He’d stayed put, partially because his green had downright demanded he not leave her presence (she insisted that she be allowed to protect him), but mostly out of terror. It wasn’t entirely selfish - Kahrelir had no one to watch him, and he didn’t trust most of Selenitas with his son. The boy didn’t speak. At two turns old, he didn’t even mimic words, which was alarming. He was obviously not a normal toddler, so it was somewhat justified that K’lir was protective of him. That hadn’t stopped Beka from fighting, though… only K’lir. He’d stayed in his weyr, curled up with his dragon, while everyone around him fought, bled, and died. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be at Selenitas anymore. He was ashamed. Even T’rid fought. He didn’t. Pathetic.
Beka was dead. So was K’ran. So was Religna, R’wign’s sister. So was that harpy he called a weyrmate. R’wign was missing an eye. Lennae was hurt -- that much he knew from Amith being bothered by Calistoth at his insistence. Lauranna died, and so did Z’hin. So many people he knew were gone - gone forever. His son was without a mother. And what had he done? He hid.
Sitting on his bed, K’lir looked… fine. Because he was, physically, aside from tired; being a single father was a lot harder than it sounded like. Kahrelir was playing in front of him, braiding together several long strips of fabric with the expertise of a child - in other words, with none whatsoever. The boy was silent, and barely acknowledged his father’s attention. Possibly that came from having help with his project in the form of a bronze salamandyr on his head, chattering instructions continuously. Not that Kahrelir was listening to Showoff at all, but certainly the tiny creature thought he was, and K’lir was intelligent enough not to dissuade Showoff from that opinion. The salamandyr was remarkably well behaved of late, perhaps because of K’lir’s melancholy, or the misbegotten belief that he’d chased off Morsrath (evidently, Showoff had gone to give the large bronze a piece of his mind, right before the dragon disappeared between and, in typical salamandyr fashion, he assumed it was all his doing). Whatever it was, K’lir was loathe to end it.
So it was that when a voice called from his doorway, K’lir brushed one strand of dark red hair from his eyes and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m here,” he called, ignoring a twinge of annoyance from Calistoth; evidently she didn’t want visitors. The green was sprawled out on her weyrledge showing off, as usual, so it was unlikely she’d even acknowledge whoever the voice belonged to. Why it bothered her was completely beyond him. Sometimes he believed that the green simply desired his full attention at all times. She was intensely jealous of Kahrelir and Showoff both. Very nerve-wracking, it was, particularly when he was upset. He was grateful that Showoff, at least, was behaving.
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Post by weaving on May 2, 2009 14:43:27 GMT -5
Taking his response as an invitation to enter, Lennae pushed the door open far enough for her to enter and then gently pushed it back into it’s former position. The scene she found was idyllic. Kahrelir was playing on the bed with several pieces of fabric while Showoff rested on his head. If not for the melancholy air and the silence in the room, she would have thought that everything was fine. She knew that everything couldn’t be fine though. K’lir had lost too many people in this attack to be okay. Though he appeared to be physically unharmed she figured that he must be hurting on the inside. He’d lost Beka, and while she had known that they weren’t weyrmated, she was the mother of his child and (she assumed) one of his closest friends. His brother was gone as well, and while she had no family of her own to compare the feeling too, she could only imagine how terrible that felt.
“Hey,” she greeted softly, with a slight smile as she approached his bed. “I thought I’d come by and give you back your shirt.” and see how you’re doing, she added mentally, though she didn’t say it aloud. He’d probably be able to discern that without her having to be explicit about it. Giving him back a shirt that was torn and stained was a very poor excuse to come and visit someone. She grabbed at the shirt tucked under her arm, doing her best to shake it out with only one hand. “It’s not in the best condition,” she stated wryly as she held it out. “I can buy you a new one though and use this one for rags. The stains aren’t so bad and I’m sure with a few more washings they’d come out easily. Maybe only one more washing. I doubt I did a very good job with only one arm and all.” And now she was rambling.
“Anyway,” she finished with a lame shrug, holding out the shirt for him to take. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous this whole visit seemed. To distract herself she focused on Kahrelir, giving the young boy a bright smile. She would have waved if she’d had a free hand but sadly one was in a sling while the other held K’lir’s shirt. He was much quieter than she would have expected for a two year old. Weren’t they supposed to be loud and obnoxious, running around and getting into everything? She supposed that Showoff did enough talking for the two of them, though the creature was being surprisingly well behaved. It was a good thing she hadn’t brought Brat along then. The gold would have done nothing but disturb the peace, which she was extremely good at. She’d only have been cranky if Lennae had tried to wake her from her nap, which would have been nothing but trouble for everyone.
She shuffled her weight awkwardly from foot to foot for a few moments, debating her next words. What she really wanted to know was how he was doing and she doubted he’d bring it up first. She’d have to ask, though she absolutely hated prying into people’s thoughts and feelings, hating it whenever anyone did so to her. Still, she doubted that K’lir had talked to anyone else about how he’d been feeling. The people he was closest to were either dead or substantially injured. She mentally braced herself for the possibility of a barbed response from K’lir, taking a deep breath before speaking. “So, how’re you holding up?” There, question asked.
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Post by glamourie on May 2, 2009 21:04:35 GMT -5
Lennae. K’lir didn’t speak as she entered, but suddenly understood Calistoth’s agitation; the green became intensely jealous very quickly of any female in his life that wasn’t her. Lennae was a matter of particular annoyance to the green because she was another greenrider… but also someone important to K’lir. He liked Lennae and not just in a superficial manner - not just in a physical attraction to her. Physical interest Calistoth could disregard as Hers being himself, but that one wasn’t someone she could brush under a rug and ignore. It made her want to walk over and sit on the weyr-invader. She didn’t, though, namely because the sun felt so wonderful on her hide and she just couldn’t be bothered to move from such a comfortable position (and because K’lir kept quite a firm mental grasp on her more unpleasant tendencies, but who was counting the leash holding, really). What Calistoth did bother to do was turn her body around so that she was facing the weyr itself, one of her front legs sprawled out in front of her to brandish sharp, deadly claws, and her gaze lingered on Lennae tempestuously. Silent judgment, it was, and the sprawled out position was meant to be threatening - Calistoth was very fond of posturing.
Amber eyes followed Lennae as she approached and K’lir smiled nervously at the… rag? His old shirt? In her hand. Her explanation made him roll one shoulder in a half-shrug, indicating his lack of real feeling regarding the fabric. Clothing wasn’t something K’lir put much stock in. The only ones he was possessive over were the clothes that Uu’n had spontaneously bought him, and even then he didn’t wear them often enough to make a difference. He felt silly in tight clothing. He just wasn’t a big man, by any stretch of the imagination, and the tighter his clothing was, the more pronounced that fact became. Never would he apologize for how small he was, nor be ashamed, but it was odd to get looks about it. Most people didn’t seem to realize just how tiny he truly was. Thin wrists, slim shoulders, skinny body; K’lir was practically dainty. The offered shirt was taken almost hesitantly and K’lir held it up in front of his face as if he thought it would bite him.
Turning his head curiously, Kahrelir ignored his father and looked right up at Lennae. His fist went straight into his mouth, and his other hand held out the braided fabric toward her. Amber eyes, the mirror image of his father’s, widened slightly in surprise. Showoff, on the other hand, bounced around and flared his frill in agitation at the green rider. Fatty? he inquired; that one statement was ‘quiet’ for Showoff. No bring Fatty, ugly-mine? Obviously, he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of Brat being present. But there was no sign of the gold anywhere on her person. No shimmer of her shine, no complaining of hunger. Those were usually the indication of Brat’s presence. Still, Showoff didn’t want her near HIS person.
Ignoring his salamandyr, K’lir tossed the shirt to the end of the bed and uncurled slightly. “Thanks for returning it,” he said with a slight smile. “You could have kept. I wouldn’t have complained, and you don’t have to replace it. Uu’n’s taken to buying me clothes anyway.” One hand came up to brush his hair from his face and he looked back at Kahrelir, raising an eyebrow. How amusing, sharing his toy… The green rider blinked twice, in response to Lennae’s question, then looked over at her with a skeptical expression. “I’m decidedly fine.” The tone of his voice made it clear that wasn’t a good thing. “Sit down. Tell me what happened…?” Would he have a broken collar if he’d been there…?
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Post by weaving on May 3, 2009 1:38:46 GMT -5
Calistoth’s movements caught Lennae’s attention. She eyed the green for a moment, confused by her actions though she wasn’t surprised. The green was known for being possessive, though she’d thought that only applied to other dragons. After all, it wasn’t as though she could steal K’lir from her. She let Calistoth’s behavior go ignored for the most part. It wasn’t as though the green would physically harm her and so she wasn’t worried. Calistoth could dislike her all she wanted but it wouldn’t stop her and K’lir from being friends. She was thankful that Amith was the complete opposite. While shy herself, Amith loved it when Lennae socialized with other people and went so far as to encourage it.
She couldn’t help but smile at K’lir’s obvious disregard of her returning of his shirt despite it’s unusable state. She’d known that he wasn’t a materialistic person but she’d come by anyway, partially to use it as an excuse but also in case he somehow would have cared. Her attention wasn’t on K’lir for long however, as movement from the toddler sitting in front of him caught her eye. She focused on Kahrelir as he held out the fabric for her. She stepped closer and knelt so that she was at eye level with him, her smile broadening as he sucked on his fist and eyed her.
“Thank you,” she said gravely, taking the fabric in her one usable hand. “It’s quite lovely. Perhaps your dad will help you tear up that old rag of a shirt and you can make more of these.” She generally hated toddlers, but she’d long since promised to herself that she’d make an effort for K’lir. Now having met the child, it turned out that effort was unnecessary. Unlike most his age, Kahrelir was quiet and well-behaved. He hadn’t said anything to her yet, but perhaps he was simply shy. At what age did kids even begin to talk anyway? Surely if it wasn’t normal, K’lir would already have tried to determine what the problem was and would have said something. She had absolutely no knowledge of children or what would be considered normal and it was showing. Children simply didn’t exist where she was from. It was grow up or die.
Showoff’s question had her chuckling and she shook her head at the bronze. “No fatty, I promise,” she told him sincerely. He instantly confirmed her suspicion that Brat would not have been welcomed. The nickname that Showoff had given her was rather apt as well, especially recently. She should probably start watching what the gold ate again, though it would be rather difficult seeing as she’d gotten quite used to eating what she wanted when she wanted.
And then K’lir was talking to her again. She stood up and nodded at his explanation regarding the shirt. She’d figured as much. His next words worried her though. ‘Decidedly fine’ was not fine at all in her mind especially when said in the tone of voice that he’d used. She frowned slightly but did as he asked, taking a seat on the bed next to him. Tell him what had happened…? Did he want an overview of the fight because honestly she’d been more concerned with staying alive than with trying to remember details to retell the story at a later date. He could be referring to her broken collarbone, though that certainly wasn’t her brightest moment of the night.
“I’d actually arrived at the infirmary before anyone started attacking for some pain medication for…uh, cramps. Once Jermayan and Manners sounded the alarm, several of the riders proceeded to bicker for far longer than necessary. I was assigned the landing platform with Shmee’s old flamethrower.” The sharding thing was probably cursed, she thought darkly. She was surprised that it hadn’t blown up as soon as she’d tried to turn it on. “I was running at one point and the weight of it threw me off balance. I tripped and fell on my shoulder and managed to break my clavicle. I don’t remember much after that though, except jumping into the river just before the infirmary went up in flames.” She leaned against him as she spoke, completely unaware of what she was doing until she’d finished speaking. She reddened slightly, but wouldn’t move unless Lir made it obvious that he wanted her to move. Being able to lean against someone was just so comforting.
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Post by glamourie on May 3, 2009 3:49:49 GMT -5
Kahrelir’s little eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. Uncomfortably, the toddler squirmed on the bed, moving himself just a touch away from Lennae. Just a tiny amount, but enough that anyone who looked would notice he’d flinched. He smiled, though, at her taking the little offered toy, and the fist moved from his mouth to open and close in a little wave. Once he was a hand’s length away, he turned his gaze to the shirt that his father tossed and crinkled his nose in an almost disturbing imitation of one of K’lir’s not-so-pleased looks. In that split second he was the spitting image of his father. He didn’t cry, and he didn’t flail, but it was painfully obvious that the shirt did not strike him as a very good plaything. He settled for reaching up and plucking the salamandyr off his head to pet. Much, much better plaything. It was shiny and made pretties when the light touched its hide, and sometimes it had a big thing around its head that was silly looking with bright, bright red, like his papa’s hair. He liked the noisy thing that liked to sit on him… and remarkably, Kahrelir was gentle enough that he’d never hurt Showoff. He instinctively knew how much pressure to put to avoid harm coming to the little creature, and by proxy, Showoff had never hurt him either. It was a working arrangement.
Squirming in Kahrelir’s grasp, Showoff looked up at Lennae and his frill flared for a second longer before folding in on itself. Good. Fatty no eat baby-mine, he said very seriously. Because Showoff was concerned that it was a very real danger: He truly thought Brat would try to eat Kahrelir and that he’d have to fight her off. Never mind that Kahrelir was much too large to be eaten by something as small as Brat. Showoff knew the gold’s appetite, and if anything on Pern could eat Baby-His (that was what he called Kahrelir), it was the Fatty. Coincidentally, ‘Fatty’ was his name for her whether she was in his good graces or not. Consistency was actually one of Showoff’s strong points; he frequently used the same names for people, making it easy to identify just who he meant. K’lir was the most notable exception as a slew of insults meant affectionately were associated with his bonded. Showoff just couldn’t decide which fit him best.
Unlike the salamandyr and toddler, K’lir did not speak. At least not immediately. The word ‘cramps’ brought a comical expression of displeasure to his face that was almost the perfect mirror image of the one Kahrelir had in response to the shirt, but the greenrider did not notice. Talking about … that … was not high on his list of things to do. As far as he was concerned, Lennae didn’t have … those… because that was just… gross. There were times when he envied women - but that was one of the few things that made him very glad to be male. Despite all comments to the contrary (more than once he’d been accused of being womanly), he could be very male at times, and he rather liked his gender. Far more interesting responses came from hitting on other men. Women tended to not be quite as funny. That or he’d never met a woman interested in other women who could bait them as well as he did. Hmm.
Winding one arm around her waist, K’lir turned his head to look at Lennae. His eyebrows raised and he tilted his chin down, a hint of embarrassment creeping over his face. “Makes you glad to be a greenrider, doesn’t it? Don’t have to use those accursed things very often,” he said with a serious nod. “We actually get to be… right up in the air…” In the fighting. Except he’d sucked at that. The thought made him want to hide under the blankets in shame, but he refrained. “How long until you’re healed? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I was assigned to the infirmary, too.” He meant that: he really was sorry that he wasn’t present, especially since Lennae got hurt. Part of him felt responsible. Most of him? Just worthless. Not even Calistoth’s reminder that Jessereth had died there took that away (and the green was still furious at the loss of Thoth and Jessereth both in one fell swoop -- the only two males that had any use for her were gone). “I’m glad you got out before… before anything happened. Have you seen R’wign?”
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Post by weaving on May 3, 2009 16:33:09 GMT -5
“You’re right,” she said to Kahrelir in agreement, tone quite serious. “It wouldn’t make a very good toy at all. I’m afraid it’s not good for much anymore.” Not even for wearing. There were too many holes in the fabric and she didn’t have the means to fix them at the moment, which meant that the shirt gaped open in several places that she’d much rather leave covered. She watched with amusement as the boy grabbed up Showoff, content to simply observe him. He bore a striking resemblance to his father, except for the hair, which he’d clearly gotten from Beka. She couldn’t clearly recall what exactly Beka looked like, but any physical similarities between Kahrelir and his mother were very faint. She had been a shy woman though, from what Lennae remembered, which might explain where Kahrelir got his shyness from. K’lir certainly wasn’t shy. Grumpy and biting, yes, but not shy. He was usually quite happy to speak his mind. Loudly.
She stifled a laugh as Showoff told her his fear. Brat? Eat Kahrelir? As much as the gold enjoyed her food, she didn’t think that she had enough room in her belly for a baby. At any rate, she much preferred sweet things to actual meat and while she liked biting Lennae, it was more so that she could latch on than to attempt to eat her. “No, I promise that I won’t ever let Fatty eat Kahrelir,” she told the ‘mandyr in order to appease him, though he seemed quite content to simply be held by the child. It was odd to see a child handle anything so gently, though he’d already proved himself to be different than what she had expected in several other ways. Still, she couldn’t help but think that toddlers were supposed to be out of control and crazy, refusing to listen to anyone and causing destruction wherever they went. That was how the crèche always seemed to look whenever she walked past, which only reaffirmed her decision to never, ever have children. Babies were not a part of her future.
She let her head rest against his shoulder as he spoke, allowing herself to completely relax against him as his arm wrapped around her waist. “You couldn’t pay me to use one ever again,” she muttered regarding the flamethrowers. When the suggestion had originally been made that she fight with one, she’d been intrigued and excited. Who wouldn’t want the opportunity to play with fire? But it’d proved more trouble than it was worth. Anything that hurt her instead of helped her was absolutely useless when it came to fighting. Thank Faranth that Amith was green, which meant firestone. Leave the flaming to the dragons, that was her motto
“Eleven sevendays or so. Longer if I mess up the setting,” she answered, wrinkling her nose as she spoke. It was far longer than she would have liked. Already, after only a sevenday, she was irritated with her lack of ability to do just about anything. She was distracted from thoughts of her arm by K’lir’s apologies, which had seemingly come out of nowhere. What had he to apologize for? “Don’t be sorry,” she told him, shaking her head. “Even if you’d managed to get to the infirmary alive, what would you have done with Kahrelir? It was much better that you stayed here, where you were safe.” If he’d been at the infirmary it would only have been one more thing for her to worry about, for undoubtedly she’d be keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t get hurt. For purely selfish reasons, she was extremely happy that he’d stayed here and stayed safe. She didn’t really have any friends except for K’lir, which made him all the more important. If anything had happened to him, she would have been absolutely devastated.
“I’ve seen him about in the infirmary, though I haven’t had a chance to speak to him really. Have you spoken to him yet?” His question made her wonder if he was aware of the healer’s injury. If not, she didn’t want to be the one to bear the bad news. Surely K’lir had had enough of that already.
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Post by glamourie on May 5, 2009 2:47:53 GMT -5
Showoff squirmed in Kahrelir’s hands, primarily to entertain the boy. He was an intelligent creature, and with intelligence came some level of practicality. Upon hatching he’d been obnoxious, prone to snapping, and throwing tantrums to get his way. He still did that on some levels, but he’d quickly learned there were better ways to get attention from His, and one of them involved the toddler currently holding him. If he indulged him, that meant His would be pleased with him and in turn would lavish attention on him. If he made the baby happy? Well, that just made His even more content to shower him with praise. Showoff was perfectly capable of sitting still if it got him the acknowledgment he so clearly deserved. Look at him go. Wasn’t he the best salamandyr ever? He knew not to bite, not to claw, and he was able to keep the baby entertained without fussing. Yes, yes, he was the best and surely all of the big Place knew that by now. He’d chased the flying ugly off, after all.
Good. No fatty eat baby-mine I destroy, Showoff explained to Lennae quite patiently. He had no problem trying to fight Brat if it came down to it. He was Dael’s bronze, after all, and that meant no other Golds were even remotely interesting to him. He’d been claimed, and he did his own claiming. Dael’s, no one else’s. Except maybe StupidHis, but really, he claimed StupidHis, not the other way around. K’lir was His chosen. Just like the baby.
It took all of K’lir’s effort not to smile, and he was doing poorly at that. Did Lennae realize how cute it was, the way she talked to Kahrelir as if he was a little adult? The little boy just looked back up at her and smiled shyly, saying nothing (as usual) and it took all of K’lir’s self-control not to scoop him up and coo. It worried him that the child didn’t speak a word. He’d talked to R’wign and there was little they could do, the healer insisted, but… it still worried him. As far as R’wign knew, Kahrelir was very intelligent for his age. Just mute. He was able to hear, able to see; it was impossible to say what exactly was wrong with him, and perhaps he simply had nothing to say. The answer didn’t satisfy K’lir, but seeing his son with Lennae, it was hard to be too worried. He very obviously understood at least some of what the other greenrider was saying, if not all, and for his age, was there anything more he could hope for realistically? No. No. Mm. It bothered him anyway.
“Don’t mess up the setting then,” K’lir answered oh-so-helpfully. “I’ve never much liked flamethrowers. I tend to blame Lis. She has no use for golds.” She had no use for females, period. “Nor their riders, really.” As far as other females went, Calistoth liked… Phremath. And only Phremath. Her reasons for ‘liking’ Phremath were also exceedingly unkind and K’lir did not approve one little bit. Most of the time he had to actually, forcefully keep his dragon in line. She was more of a pain than Showoff was and considering that the salamandyr went out of his way to be a total brat half the time, that was saying something. However, her intense dislike of golds wasn’t exactly a secret; he was sure Lennae either knew or picked up on that on her own without him saying it. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the green who thought she owned Pern would have no use for a female who could truly command other dragons. Heh.
One hand moved up to toy with the ends of Lennae’s hair. Her reassurance, though likely well-meant, didn’t help. It just confirmed to him that he was someone who needed protecting -- pathetic, in many ways. He didn’t like that feeling, so instead, he pushed it aside and focused on the other topic. “I tried. Marra was killed. So was Religna. He - he didn’t really talk much.” Actually, he hadn’t spoken at all. When K’lir dragged him aside to talk about it, the healer just sort of crumbled into a curled up ball and stared off into space for a few minutes, close to tears. K’lir was sure that he’d actually cried at some point when he was alone, but no words about it came. Nothing. “His vanity I think took a really big blow.” Pausing, K’lir looked over at Lennae, then bowed his head. “I feel lousy. Everyone’s hurt but me. No, I just hid in here like a coward. My best friend’s missing an eye, your collar’s all messed up, K’ran and Beka --” His voice broke and then he twitched, before swallowing thickly. “Even the gold riders did more. I should’ve taken Kahrelir and gone… somewhere, did something. But I’m almost glad I didn’t. The infirmary burnt up. I don’t think Rel would’ve survived it. He’s not - R’wign swears he’s not sick, but he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t make a noise. He never has. I don’t think he would’ve been able… They said the wherhandlers were rounding up kids, but I don’t trust them either. Is that terrible of me? Beka died - and here I am, hiding in my weyr like a coward. It is terrible of me…”
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Post by weaving on May 5, 2009 3:58:56 GMT -5
She quirked an eyebrow up at Showoff’s threat and did her best to keep a straight face, though the thought of the bronze salamandyr destroying anything was amusing to her. If it came down to it, Brat would simply try and consume him. And probably succeed. While she couldn’t fit Kahrelir in her stomach, Lennae was willing to bet that she had more than enough room for Showoff. Even if she didn’t, the gold would certainly try. Whenever something ate her, her initial reaction was to threaten the offenders with the possibility of her eating them. For two days after the battle she’d babbled on and on about eating the NastyVomitLickers (which was the worst insult the gold could give. While eating food was wonderful, eating food that you’d regurgitated was akin to taking a bath in poop). If that failed, she’d simply sit on him. She was fat, but she certainly knew how to use her weight to her advantage.
“What?” She grumped, catching K’lir’s expression out of the corner of her eye and turning her head to focus on him. Was he smiling at her? She honestly didn’t see what was so funny. Here she was having a wonderful conversation with Showoff and Kahrelir, whom she had decided was the best conversationalist ever due to his lack of talking, and he found it amusing. Though her voice was gruff, she wasn’t nearly as upset about that as one might think. She simply didn’t like the idea of people finding her amusing unless she was trying to be, which she wasn’t. She went over her interaction with the child in her mind, but could find nothing worth laughing at. Perhaps he was laughing at Showoff, but surely by now the ‘mandyr’s threats had become normal to him.
Her gaze wandered back to Kahrelir, returning the boy’s smile with one of her own. He was simply impossible to resist. If she could guarantee that her child would be this adorable, she might consider having one herself. “You’re father thinks I’m being silly, but you don’t, do you?” It was a question she didn’t expect to have answered, at least verbally. Still, he seemed to understand what she was saying well enough that he could ‘speak’ using facial expressions and hand gestures. While possibly mute, he was by no means stupid which, she supposed, was only to be expected considering his father. K’lir was many things, but Lennae didn’t think of stupid as being one of them.
“Really?” She drawled at his mention of Calistoth’s dislike for anything gold. Really, he should have said anything female. She didn’t think she’d seen the green ever act kindly toward another of the same sex. Even the time she’d spoken to Amith had simply been mean-spirited masquerading as pleasant. “I hadn’t noticed.” While Amith was naïve enough to think that everyone was nice and wonderful and incapable of doing anything mean, Lennae certainly knew better. Calistoth was easily the meanest dragon at Selenitas and quite possibly the meanest one ever shelled at the weyr if not in all of Pern. No, she and Calistoth were not friends, nor would they ever be. She did her best not to associate with conniving females, be they human or draconic. It certainly wasn’t a trait that she found endearing or even remotely likeable. It must be different though, when one was bonded to a creature like that. She was just glad that she’d never had the opportunity to find out.
Ah, so he had seen R’wign. She nodded as he described his attempts to speak with the healer. She felt badly for him; he’d lost so much in this battle. She might be physically hurt, but everyone that she cared for had remained safe, though that list was a small one. Amith, Brat and K’lir. She’d never understand the pain of losing a family member and while she was usually quite envious of those with a family who loved them, for once she wasn’t. Not having one meant not having to go through the pain of losing one. Physical pain she could handle. Emotional hurt, not so much.
As soon as K’lir began to talk about how he was feeling, Lennae wrapped her good arm around his shoulders. She wasn’t certain what she could say to make him realize that what he’d done was okay. If she hadn’t already been down at the infirmary, she may have very well done the same, though it was more likely that she’d have gone roaming the halls looking for Benden riders to kill. She didn’t have a child to worry about after all. Even so, she didn’t blame him for his actions. Him being at the infirmary wouldn’t have changed anything. It wouldn’t have saved K’ran or Beka and it certainly wouldn’t have saved her the pain of a broken bone, nor would it have saved R’wign’s eye. The more he talked, the less she knew what to say. She was terrible at reassuring people, so she did the only thing she knew. She held him tighter. If her other arm had been in working order, she’d have wrapped both of them around him in an attempt to comfort him until he finished speaking.
“No. No it’s not terrible of you. It’s surviving. We all did what we had to. I don’t blame you for it and I doubt anyone else does either.” She’d learned young not to blame herself for the deaths of others in situations like this. When it came down to it, everyone was just trying to save themselves and some people weren’t so lucky. But how did you explain that to someone when the people who had died were people they had cared about?
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Post by glamourie on May 6, 2009 6:21:46 GMT -5
Had he offended her? … By being amused? HEH! K’lir’s amusement doubled, but he managed to keep that to himself; he had no intentions of answering her question, or explaining what had him so close to laughter. Lennae needn’t know any of that. She’d probably take offense, but offense really wasn’t meant. K’lir just had a tendency of… not explaining himself well. Part of that was because he didn’t think Lennae would understand. How to explain to someone that they were… well, unintentionally amusing him by treating his two turn old baby like an adult? He didn’t oppose the behavior at all, he just… hadn’t expected it. Lennae didn’t come across as someone who had any tolerance for children whatsoever, but apparently Kahrelir was an exception. His quiet demeanor seemed to win many people over. If only K’lir knew why he was so quiet. Neither of his parents were. Beka was shy - but around people she knew? Obnoxious; they were practically identical (hence getting along so well). And Kahrelir was… nothing like either of them in demeanor. So pleasant. So patient. So kind. It was very bizarre… and, in some ways, worrisome. He’d expected tantrums, even prepared himself for them and… nothing.
Two pairs of amber eyes followed Lennae. The younger of the two smiled wider and held Showoff up toward his head. The salamandyr contentedly squirmed up onto his hair again and then Kahrelir clapped his hands together - the first little sound he made since she walked in. It wasn’t loud, either, nor did he continue to clap; just one clasping of his hands together as he smiled and tilted his head back to look up at the green rider with a clearly adoring look. Even though he was much too shy to let her touch him in any manner, it was very obvious he liked Lennae. She was nice, after all, and she talked to him. Kahrelir very much liked being talked to.
Choosing not to comment on her sarcastic remark (she likely had no idea how little Calistoth cared for her), K’lir leaned his head against Lennae’s. Her proximity was a comfort. The closer they came, the more Kahrelir scooted, until the toddler was actually in his father’s lap and leaning back against him. One hand instinctively looped down around Kahrelir, protective and possessive; K’lir did not notice, at least not immediately. Most of his attention was on trying not to wallow and not to laugh at Lennae, all at once. It was not an easy task. Only when Showoff leapt up onto his shoulder and proceeded to preen shamelessly did he realize how silly he was being, and he lifted his head to offer a weak, hesitant smile. Reluctant, not because of her, but because of himself. He was pathetic. But…
“Calistoth wouldn’t let me leave. She was so insistent that I be where she could protect me. I -- I couldn’t see anything. I could hear it, though.” His head cocked slightly, then he smiled. “I’m on mandatory infirmary duty. Basically I’m stuck dealing with the people who got hurt.” Squirming, he wrapped both arms around Kahrelir and brushed his fingers through the boy’s hair. “Kind of glad: It means I get to babysit R’wign. I asked if you’d seen him because he’s got bruised lungs, pretty severe actually… his nails are all blue, and he’s been wheezing and just sounds terrible. I’m trying to find someone other than me to make sure he doesn’t act stupid. Kalierre’s out of commission, so he feels like he has to be the top healer or something. I don’t know. He keeps trying to work… and he shouldn’t even be out of bed.” Bowing his head, K’lir turned to look at Lennae. “Come to think of it… should you? You look pretty hurt yourself…”
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Post by weaving on May 6, 2009 21:49:39 GMT -5
Lennae jumped slightly as Kahrelir clapped his hands together. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it was unexpected and in the otherwise quiet weyr it was much louder than it seemed. She met his eyes and returned the toddler’s smile, though it confused her slightly. He liked her? As much as she’d like to have denied it, it seemed obvious even to her that he did indeed like her. She wasn’t used to this. Children didn’t like her. She didn’t play silly games or baby talk them, instead treating them like miniature adults. She had absolutely no patience for something that needed to be spoken to in a high-pitched squeaky voice with a dumbed down vocabulary. In her limited experience, she found that this didn’t often make her many friends with kids, not that she really minded. Conversations with children tended to grate on her nerves given their inability to grasp mature concepts and their tendencies to purposely annoy adults. It was, in large part, why she didn’t mind talking to Kahrelir. He seemed to like when she talked to him the way she would another adult and he didn’t respond in a childish fashion. Granted he didn’t respond at all. Though K’lir worried over that, it didn’t seem as though the child were stupid or ill. Perhaps he was simply a late bloomer. Some kids were like that, weren’t they?
As Kahrelir climbed into his father’s lap, Lennae couldn’t help but smile at the sight the three of them must make. They were just one happy cuddle group. She felt K’lir’s head lift and so lifted her own in order to better see his face and felt her smile broaden as he offered her one of his own. For the moment, he appeared to have snapped out of the wallow he’d been stuck in. She was glad because if it had continued for much longer she would have been at a loss for words. Comforting was not her strong point, especially with words.
As he explained why he hadn’t been able to leave, she snorted in amusement. Of course Calistoth would think that there was no better protection for K’lir than with her. In this case, it was probably true. Getting to the infirmary alive would have been a feat in and of itself and then there was the matter of getting out of the burning infirmary alive, which would have been difficult enough without Kahrelir. As he went on to explain what had happened to R’wign, she grimaced. He didn’t seem the type to take being baby-sat well or taking orders from anyone, even his best friend.
“No. No more bed rest. It’s just a broken bone. Just give me a dash of fellis and I’m good as new.” She made the most awful face she could think of at the mention of being confined to a bed. None of the healers had said anything about laying around in bed all day and she didn’t really think it would help either. There wasn’t anything wrong with her internally, so why should she lay around in bed all day? “Don’t you dare even think of trying to make me lay around all day.”
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Post by glamourie on May 9, 2009 14:45:51 GMT -5
“A dash of fellis.” K’lir kept his voice guarded -- which for him was almost a miracle. He didn’t approve of fellis, at least not where Lennae was concerned. There was a reason for that. He’d talked to M’vorn extensively, before he -- before. Thoughts of the blue rider made his stomach jolt downward suddenly. He hadn’t even thought of him, and they were almost friends. He was gone, too… That thought was quickly pushed out of his mind. He couldn’t let himself fall into despair. He just couldn’t. Nothing good ever came of wallowing, even if it did feel better to beat himself up. K’lir bit his bottom lip and glanced sideways at Lennae. From what M’vorn said, High Reaches was… well, he wouldn’t have trusted any of them with possibly addictive substances. “Are you sure numbweed doesn’t work? Wouldn’t that be better?” The question was not meant to be accusing, but he realized it could be taken that way. Fortunately, K’lir was usually so callous that accusing was normal for him. He wasn’t trying to be offensive. He was just… worried. Worried, because he’d seen what High Reaches did to M’vorn first hand. Not Lennae, she was… stronger. But M’vorn, he’d seen, and it alarmed him.
That was something they hadn’t talked about, not extensively. He’d never outright asked her for the full story. It didn’t seem like it was his right to ask for that kind of detail. Just as he’d wanted to ask… ask why she’d gone to High Reaches. He remembered when they came, and they asked; they didn’t force. He remembered because there was a wher clutch in his bed. Literally. He’d refused to go because he was born at Selenitas, it was his home and he wasn’t going anywhere. But… Some part of him wished he did go. He’d missed Lennae. He’d missed M’vorn. Half of his weyrling class was gone. How many of them had even survived the attack?
Jeminorth. He knew she was alive. Calistoth made sure to inform him of her displeasure at that fact, but it relieved him; Rielana wasn’t a bad woman. Lennae. Sk’ler. Saraina. Gina. There were twenty-six of them to start, and the only ones left were them…? Very, very depressing. Four green riders, a blue rider, and a brown rider. Ironic. That thought made him flash on K’ran, though, and he pushed it from his mind. He didn’t want to think of his brother. It would just depress him endlessly. His mother had already come by to talk to him, and he’d broken down on her. No need to fall apart on Lennae, too. She didn’t deserve to have to deal with his hysterics. No one did.
Curling back against K’lir, Kahrelir closed his eyes and yawned widely. Showoff squirmed into the black strands and made himself comfortable, while Kahrelir snuggled back, obviously getting ready for sleep. He was acutely aware of his father’s tension, but chose to ignore it; there was nothing he could do, after all. Instead of fussing the way most children would, he chose to clench one little hand around his father’s pinky and started to drift off. He could sleep through some of the most impressively loud noises -- perhaps a talent that was hereditary, for his father could as well. When he put his mind to it, Kahrelir could sleep through just about everything. A necessity, it was, considering how noisy Showoff and Calistoth could be when they got to bickering. Neither of them really cared to try and be considerate of those around them. No, they thought only of themselves.
Fuzz also wasn’t a quiet creature. Not usually, anyway. However, the little white duck was sneaky. While K’lir was asking his question, she’d sneaked up from the blankets she slept on and was wiggling her tail deviously. She waited until neither of the humans was looking and then flew up onto the bed --
“I hadn’t intended to force you into bed rest, you know,” K’lir said, unaware of the prowler behind him. “Although… I can think of some good reasons to stay in bed all day. It’s currently my intention.” He shrugged and looked down at Kahrelir. “Except I’m assigned to the infirmary tonight. I need to find a ‘sitter for him, too. I don’t even know who I’d trust to watch him. R’wign’s messed up, Beka and Ran are gone… I guess I could ask my mother, but that’s a bit embarrassing…”
-- and then Fuzz grabbed the back of Lennae’s shirt. Absolutely shamelessly, the little duck proceeded to tug backwards, as though she could pull Lennae around. Collecting her, Fuzz was. This one was hers!
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Post by weaving on May 9, 2009 23:11:50 GMT -5
She frowned and pulled away slightly from K’lir at the change in his tone. Turning her head to face him, she attempted to read his face in order to determine just what was bothering him, but it proved impossible. “What’s wrong with fellis? A healer just gave it to me. It’s not like I went and requested it specifically. Besides, numbweed is for surface injuries, not broken bones.” She asked, still frowning slightly. What was wrong with fellis? It wasn’t as though she were going to overdose and kill herself or anything. The healer had mentioned something about it being addictive but…oh. That. She was torn between being offended that he thought that she’d go and get herself addicted to something else and being touched at his concern for her well being. She was strong enough to overcome her addiction to the drugs at High Reaches (nevermind that she still occasionally had cravings, they were far and few enough between that in her mind they didn’t count) so why shouldn’t she be able to resist an addiction to fellis.
Thinking about all of that just brought back memories of her time spent in High Reaches, causing her to give a small reactionary shudder. If that was where this conversation was heading, she wasn’t certain she wanted to continue. On one hand, she felt as though she owed to it K’lir to explain to him why she’d left all of the sudden. She’d always felt bad about that. He hadn’t had many friends when she’d left, though that had changed somewhat by the time she’d returned. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to tell him about everything that she’d done while she’d been there. Countless people had shared her furs, she’d ignored Amith and she’d even forgotten who she was. She wasn’t sure that she wanted K’lir to know about that.
“I’m not going to get addicted Lir,” she told him, placing her head back on his shoulder. “I’d rather not deal with that ever again.” He might not believe her, truthfully she didn’t fully believe herself, but so far the fellis had done nothing but numb her pain, which was exactly what she needed. And though he hadn’t voiced his thoughts out loud, she felt the need to reassure him, and herself, that there was no need for him to worry.
“Well, unlike you, I have no one to share my bed with, making it far less interesting,” she replied, though she instantly wished she had rephrased that thought. She’d meant Kahrelir, but it sounded more as though she was implying that K’lir was currently sleeping with someone. Not that she cared if he was, but she thought that the greenrider’s furs had been empty. She reddened slightly, hoping that K’lir wouldn’t realize the accidental innuendo she’d made, and was glad for the change of subject concerning babysitting Kahrelir.
“If you can’t find anyone else, I’m free…” she shrugged. Children weren’t something she liked, but Kahrelir seemed as though he’d be an easy child to watch. No fuss, no crying and probably little mess. Amith would probably like to meet him as well, having an odd fascination with young creatures of all kinds. Then again, she’d probably just start pestering Lennae to get a baby of her own, which was certainly not something she planned on having happen. Ever. “I mean, you kno-“
Her stumbling words were suddenly cut off as Fuzz pounced and tugged on the back of her shirt. She turned quickly and was surprised to see the duck there. The sight instead had her giggling. “Fuzz, whatever are you doing?”
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Post by glamourie on May 10, 2009 13:13:36 GMT -5
Somehow he wasn’t reassured. Not that Lennae could have reassured him. No, K’lir’s mind was… well, he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted her words because she felt she had to say it. Maybe that was odd logic, but… He’d just have to do his best to have faith in her. That was all he could do, right? Have faith and hope Lennae knew what she was doing. He didn’t really trust fellis. Actually, K’lir didn’t trust addictive substances, period. For all his joking, he didn’t drink wine very often, he didn’t let anyone give him fellis and frankly, he didn’t like pain relief substances at all. Or anything that diminished his capacity for awareness. Flights were always a rough experience for him and K’lir remained half-aware throughout them; that fact alone had saved Calistoth when Showoff chased Dael the first time. Otherwise, well, he’d have been like Saeo. Truthfully, he was a control freak; he needed to be aware of what was happening around him at all times. He didn’t trust anything that took that from him.
It was… awkward, to try and discuss that, though. Somehow he doubted Lennae would appreciate his views on the subject. He was pretty sure he’d brushed a nerve but it wasn’t intentional. So, instead, he lifted one hand to bat at a strand of Lennae’s hair. Her words, however, caused a slight tinge of irritation. Not embarrassment. Irritation. It wasn’t her fault, but that nerve was sensitive. Beka’s death was just driven home by those words, and he bowed his head to look at Kahrelir’s so-black hair. His mother’s hair. Her hair, her nose, K’lir’s eyes and lips. Both of them were short. Cleft chin, he got that from Beka… Not good, not good.
Wait, what?
Blinking, K’lir glanced from Kahrelir to Lennae skeptically. His face said it all: As far as he knew, Lennae didn’t like children. At least, he would’ve guessed she didn’t. She did not strike him as one of those people who secretly loved little kids and liked babbling nonsense at them. With Kahrelir she seemed a touch uncomfortable. Yet… babysitting? It wasn’t that he had no faith in her - he did. But Kahrelir wasn’t a normal child. He was extraordinarily shy. Most people couldn’t keep an eye on a child who didn’t cry when he needed something… and Lennae, well, she probably could, but Kahrelir was still new to her. Would he even trust her? So hard to say. Just because he was quiet didn’t mean he was easy to take care of, after all. Not crying meant he was actually more difficult. It was harder to tell when Kahrelir needed something… he never gave any hints. K’lir blinked again.
However, he was saved from having to comment by Fuzz. The duck was… behaving very oddly indeed. Despite himself, K’lir stared. However, as Lennae spoke, Fuzz was only encouraged, tugging more insistently at the greenrider as if the harder she pulled, the more success she would have. Either she didn’t know, or understand, that she couldn’t drag a full-grown human around even if she wanted to. Whatever it was, that did not stop her from trying. No, on the contrary, each word was encouragement and she squirmed backwards, tail feathers wiggling animatedly back and forth. She was certain she’d be able to keep this one. Her two-legged hadn’t let her keep the flying bronze thing, but this one she could, because this one didn’t fly, you see; that was her logic. She also remembered this one. This one was the one who gave her the warm things, yes yes. She would keep her.
“I think… I think she’s trying to collect you,” K’lir weakly offered, indicating with one hand a spot at the side of the weyr which was filled with dozen of shiny, reflective objects. “She’s taken to stealing from Showoff, and once she carried him over and plunked him down in that pile, too. She… she collects things. Usually shiny, but, apparently, sometimes people… I don’t know… Fuuuzzz….” He squinted at the duck, who quacked at him in acknowledgment, but did not let up on her motions. “Might as well surrender. You clearly can’t beat a duck who’s set her mind on something.”
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Post by weaving on May 11, 2009 1:26:07 GMT -5
Oh good, he was dropping the subject. While someday she would like to talk with K’lir about her stay in High Reaches, now certainly wasn’t the time. Currently, she’d much rather be thinking of all the reasons why she was glad to be alive, a thought that came just as K’lir reached up to brush at a bit of her hair and she leaned into his touch slightly. It felt good to be near another living being, knowing that, for the moment at least, they were safe. She felt him tense slightly, probably at something she said, though she couldn’t figure out what she’d said that could be construed as offensive. For a moment, she considered attempting to figure out what was wrong, but then thought better of it. If he didn’t want to say anything, she’d rather not pry and the mood for the moment was nice enough that she’d rather not ruin it.
Immediately after her suggestion, she caught the look of disbelief on his face which didn’t surprise her. If he’d actually taken her up on the offer, she’d have been shocked, but this reaction was to be expected. Clearly he doubted her babysitting skills and she honestly couldn’t blame him. She had no experience what so ever and she had absolutely no desire to ever really gain any. Still, K’lir was her friend and if he was in desperate need of someone to watch Kahrelir, she’d be willing to do it. While she didn’t like children, she wouldn’t willingly neglect one, especially if it was the child of someone she liked. She’d feel awful if anything happened to Kahrelir on her watch and she was fairly certain that K’lir would never forgive her. Out of the people who’d been closest to him, the two-turn old was one of only a handful left. The very thought of taking that away from K’lir, even by accident was something that she’d never be able to live with. Hopefully he’d be able to find someone else to take the toddler, or be able to take him into the infirmary. Then again, it was awfully busy and Kahrelir was shy.
As K’lir offered an explanation for Fuzz’s odd behavior she blinked several times. Fuzz was…collecting her? Well, that was certainly odd, though when she thought about it it did make sense. Showoff collected things, why not Fuzz? Deciding to play along with the duck, she used her good hand to push herself backwards along the bed, going wherever the duck desired. It certainly wasn’t easy, but the amusement she felt at the situation distracted her from any pain that she might have felt from any accidental jarring of her bad shoulder. She took this time to observe the duck, who had grown quite a bit since the last time she’d seen her. She still seemed to have the downy appearance of duckling which had Lennae wondering when ducks hit maturity. Apparently not anytime soon, if Fuzz's appearance were any indication, though she couldn't be sure. Looks were often deceiving.
“Does she often try to collect people?” She asked with a raised eyebrow as she continued moving along the bed. A glance at the pile of Fuzz’s collections told her that if she had collected a person before, they were no longer there, but then she hadn’t really expected anyone to actually just sit and stay where the duck told them. Not that she would have minded staying where Fuzz put her, but it probably would have created an awkward situation. The thought of her camping out in the corner of K’lir’s weyr had her chuckling at the sheer absurdity of it. “I certainly hope that this is the worst habit she’s managed to pick up from Showoff.” At least Fuzz couldn’t actually speak. One creature spouting constant insults was bad enough.
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