(06.25.2761) Breakdown (S'van/I'lir, attn. I'zaj, Bhira/Channith)

[Rachel]

As S'van walked out of the classroom after morning lessons were over, he found himself pausing to look towards the wallows. He'd been so busy recently, struggling to perform on even just an average level as he always did. Every spare moment not consumed by homework and studying went into studying visualization theory, practicing visualizing, trying to fight past the sometimes migraine-level headaches of looking through Exoth's eyes to try and line the stomach-clenching colors on top of his grayscale images accurately.

 

Even during meals, his mind constantly fixated on how he might never be a functional adult rider, how he was holding Exoth back, how he'd impregnated Aalis and how she'd be delayed from Graduating for ten months or more as a result, how he was neglecting the people who'd been kind enough to let him call them friend, how he was just a failure, a complete and utter failure. Exoth always rejected those thoughts vehemently, and on an intellectual level, S'van knew he was being too hard on himself, but, as with everything else he tried, he failed to convince his heart to feel otherwise.

 

So he would just work harder. That was all he could do, all he ever did. Keep trying. Try harder. If he failed, it was because he wasn't trying hard enough.

 

Now there was a whole new class of Weyrlings, and he didn't even know any of their names, or their dragons' names. He doubted he'd even be able to recognize half of them without their knots and their infant dragons by their sides. Looking towards the wallows, he didn't know which ones were occupied and which weren't. Shards, there might even be a new Weyrling in his old wallow, or...

 

Or B'rar's. Shards, Gaiuth's growth chart! B'rar had been in the habit of tracing the outline of his dragon on the wall with chalk to chart the bronze's growth. If one of the new Weyrlings had selected that wallow, S'van had better go and ask them if they could leave the growth chart be. It was the last tangible evidence that B'rar and Gaiuth had ever existed in the Weyr at all.

 

S'van strode over, past his old wallow to the one neighboring it, where B'rar and Gaiuth had died. Wallows didn't have doors, so when he stopped in front of the entrance, his eyes immediately went to the wall where the growth chart was --

 

Wasn't. It wasn't there. S'van froze, heart and mind going numb.

 

"What happened to Gaiuth's growth chart?" he asked the surprisingly tiny boy inside, his wide, horrified eyes never leaving the wall where the chalk marks should have been. His voice didn't sound real, or even like it belonged to him. It was numb, as numb as the rest of him.

 

I'lir had been having a perfectly lovely day, in a dreadfully fatiguing sort of way.  Being an unusually diligent sort of lad, he had been up at the crack of dawn, to complete his latest hidework.  It wasn't in his nature to dawdle, but, well, he did have the most marvelous growing dragonet to attend to and had spent a good two candlemarks of the evening prior attempting to properly oil a particularly stubborn spot of hide.  And why, the afternoon before that he had been to the Dragon Infirmary, of course, to ensure Belpheroth was growing properly.  It had been near a sevenday since he had last been examined and wouldn't do to allow his oversight of such a very delicate matter to lapse.

 

And I'lir did take proper pride in the hidework.  It had been a most thorough treatise on the merits of steel riding buckles over brass, detailing the differences in their strength and resilience, of course.

 

((I liked the little samples you put at the end.  That was cool.  Brass's shiny.  Like me, but...lighter.  Yeah, lighter, that's it.))

 

[[I believe your shade more closely resembles that of a slightly tarnished bronze, if I recall correct.  The metal, not the dragon color, evidently, as that would be redundant.]]

 

I'lir was fully confident his dissertation would meet with the utmost of approval.  For the moment, however, he ought simply grab his afternoon supplies and procure some sustenance, as hunger was an ill-made excuse for substandard performance.

 

((You'll be great, I'll be great.  We'll all be great.  But especially me,)) Belpheroth chimed in warmly.  The Weyrlingmasters knew what they were about.  I'lir said so.  Plus, their games were fun!  ((Ooh!  I hope we get to race again.  I like racing.  Didja see how fast I went last time?...I'lir mine...who's that?))

 

[[I assure you, my dear boy, nothing to concern you.  Probably just a classmate eager to share some scintillating news,]] I'lir replied as he turned to the doorway, analyzing the situation.  Shameful that he had permitted his concentration to so far lapse that he failed to immediately note the intrusion, but fortunately I'lir had a most marvelously observant dragonet, a trait he would evidently have to endeavor to further foster in himself.  A rider ought always be prudent, after all.

 

The visitor in question was a rather unbecoming sort of lad, a large and hulking breed, evidently entirely uneducated in the proper social niceties.  Weyrbred, I'lir reckoned at a glance, from that dreadful Southern place.  His tan certainly suited the image.  A Weyrling like himself, I'lir noted from the lad's knots, but not a classmate.  Two clutches prior to his, if he recalled correct, Impressed the one following Merkan's.  There had been three brown weyrlings from that class, had there not? S'van, he believed was this one, from his forays through the records, the only one of the three who was quite so...brute-ish.

And his disposition seemed to match his countenance, as pugnacious as he appeared.  Well, I'lir supposed there was no help for the matter, some weyrlings lacked his own rather fine sense of discretion.  I'lir supposed the duty fell to him, as a bronzerider and a child of proper Eastern bloodlines, to demonstrate the proper courtesies, "Good day, brown weyrling S'van.  How may I assist you this fine morning?  I am afraid I am unacquainted with this Gaiuth...Ah, give me a moment, now I recall.  He was a bronze of your clutch, was he not?  Deceased in a most dreadful sort of incident?  Sorry affair."

 

S'van's gaze ticked down to the boy at last, still numb inside. Struggling to *stay* numb, because somehow he knew that the feelings which had frozen over would hurt so, so much if they thawed.

 

This boy hadn't done anything wrong. That he knew of. Maybe, maybe he would know... why Gaiuth's growth chart was gone, why...

 

Someone had to have erased it. That thought was a burning poker, held threateningly above his heart. Someone had to have erased it.

 

Maybe this boy would know who.

 

"Yes, Gaiuth was B'rar's bronze," S'van replied, though he barely even recognized his voice. Taut as a drum, the words bitten out like an animal baring its teeth. Something dangerous underneath it all. "They were friends of mine. They died. This was their wallow. B'rar had charted Gaiuth's growth on the wall there in chalk. It was all that was left of them in the Weyr. All that was left of them in the *world.* Who erased it?"

 

Outside on his ledge, Exoth lifted his head, wings rustling with restless agitation. He sensed something unfamiliar from his bond with S'van. Something like... an arrow knocked and drawn, trembling with tension, in search of the proper direction to loose.

 

S'van's eyes never left I'lir, barely-banked intensity waiting for a target to lash out at.

 

"Who erased it?" he hissed again.

 

B'rar, right, that was the lad's name!  Holdbred, I'lir recalled now.  He knew little else of him, had seen no purpose in inquiring further, seeing as he would be hard put to garner any benefit from the knowledge, given the boy's current state.  Most regretful.  But what was all this nonsense about a growth chart?  Of course I'lir kept a growth chart, a rather meticulous one.  But on proper hide, not on the wall...

 

Ah, right! Those!  I'lir recalled them now.  So this had been Weyrling B'rar's wallow then?  Well, that was dreadfully morbid.  How fortunate that I'lir wasn't a superstitious sort.  He donned his best jovial grin as he returned his attention to his visitor, who looked dreadfully perturbed.  Had to set the proper tone, after all, "Please, my dear boy.  You may enter, take a seat.  You look ghastly pale.  May I fetch you something?  A drink, perhaps?"

 

"As for the drawings, were those perchance a series of markings, upon that wall there, with numbers besides them?"

 

S'van didn't move so much as an inch, staying rooted where he was, a part of him still trying desperately hard not to let I'lir's cheerfulness rake razor claws through his sinew-slim hold on his temper. His whole world narrowed down to this moment.

 

"Yes," he said shortly. "Who. Erased. It?"

 

"Why, I did, my dear lad," I'lir breezed on, no sense in denying the matter.  He was the wallow's new inhabitant, perfectly sensible for him to make the place habitable, "But there was no harm in it, I assure you.  Just a bit of grime, some water washed it away quick enough.  Are you sure I cannot fetch you a drink?  Perhaps a piece of bread?  A bubbly pie?  Typically I disapprove of sweets as a matter of principle but I suppose sometimes exceptions must be made."

 

The world stilled.

 

He did it.

 

He did it he did it he did it. Erased it. Didn't even care, S'van had just *said* it was all that had been left of them in the *world* and he didn't even care. No harm in it. No harm in erasing the last clinging remnants of B'rar and Gaiuth, remnants S'van had failed to protect. Because of course he'd failed. He always failed.

 

He hadn't tried hard enough to protect B'rar's memory. First he couldn't prevent B'rar's death being pronounced a suicide, and even if that had been a huge impossible dream, protecting some marks on the wall shouldn't have been. S'van had failed to protect B'rar's memory because he always failed at everything, like he'd failed to help B'rar in the first place, failed to save his friend's life, failed failed failed --

 

((S'van?))

 

But this. This kid. This kid erased it. The only sign left that B'rar and Gaiuth had ever even been real, this kid erased it. *This* kid. This. This...

 

((S'van!)) Exoth launched himself from his ledge.

 

"YOU MONSTER!" S'van bellowed at the top of his lungs, fist cocked and cracking forward before he could think, could breathe. Snarling, S'van seized I'lir by the collar with one hand and gripping his wrist with the other as the boy stumbled back from the blow, lifting him nearly off the floor and bending to snarl in his face. "How could you?! How *could* you, you sick *freak*! That was -- they're DEAD, that was all they'd left behind, that was IT, and you -- you -- you don't even CARE. How would YOU like it if your friends had NOTHING LEFT TO REMEMBER YOU BY? What kind of SICK PSYCHO MONSTER doesn't even CARE?"

 

I'lir froze as S'van came towards him.  Couldn't move, couldn't speak.  Any clever ploy, any eloquent trick of words fled his mind in an instant as pain exploded across his face, blood spurting from his nose with a sickening crack.  Black dots danced across his vision, flickering in and out of focus.  And then there was screaming, lots of screaming, and a sick screeching sort of sound.  And then the words came into clarity.  Freak, sick psycho monster, friends.  I'lir didn't have overly many friends, did he?  He was going to die in here, all alone, and nobody was going to find him, nobody was going to know until the tunnelsnakes came for his body...Belpheroth.  Belpheroth!  BELPHEROTH!  I'lir couldn't feel Belpheroth!

 

Belpheroth growled as S'van entered the room, body hunched low, eyes flashing an angry red.  He knew, knew before he moved, knew this man wanted to hurt his rider.  His I'lir!  As S'van lunged towards I'lir, Belpheroth leapt across the wallow fixing his teeth firmly into S'van's leg.  No!

((Let.  Go.  Of.  My.  Rider,)) S'van's mind felt sick against Belpheroth's.  Wrong.  Not I'lir's.  He snapped again at S'van, lashing out with teeth and claws, a low growl rolling from him all the while.  The blood tasted strange in his mouth, like iron and life and death.  Like victory.  He was going to win.  This was just another game and Belpheroth was a winner.

 

((I'lir!  I'lir!  I'lir!)) Belpheroth couldn't feel I'lir!  Just felt pain and fear, a haze across their bond.  No, no, not I'lir!

 

Tears streamed down S'van's face, streamed from wild eyes, his teeth clenched, his expression wretched with as much fury as helpless despair. He drew his fist back to hit I'lir again, he wanted to hit him and hit him and hit him until the pain went away oh Faranth Exoth was calling him over and over but he couldn't, wouldn't hear --

 

S'van inhaled sharply, the shock of a mental voice that *wasn't* Exoth's pulling him back towards reality... and then pain dragged him back the rest of the way. He dropped I'lir like a burning coal, and wrenched himself away from the, the -- baby bronze dragon – like Gaiuth -- oh Faranth, he -- he'd --

 

Leg too injured to sustain his weight, he fell back, using his hands and uninjured leg to scramble backwards, get away get away get away --

 

S'van's back hit warm hide that felt like home.

 

And then, just like that, S'van was gone, off of I'lir, who choked in a ragged breath, shaking all over.  And there was Bel, lying on the floor, covered in drawers fallen out of his dresser, green ichor dripping down one leg.  And a big brown dragon looming above them, behind S'van.  Exoth.

 

"Bel!  Bel!  Belpheroth!" I'lir called, scrambling towards his dragon, keeping one eye on the brown all the while, his white face streaked with blood and tears, "Get up, please, please, please get up."

 

Belpheroth had S'van, had his leg in his grasp, felt him pause, felt him stop.  And then S'van moved in a sudden jerk, sending Belpheroth sliding across the room, rough floor scraping against fragile dragon hide.  Hitting the chest of drawers with a crash, Belpheroth lay low and still as wood and cloth fell around him.  He was brave, he was brave, he was brave.

 

As soon as it stopped, as soon as everything was still, Belpheroth stood, shaking a particularly silly red hat off one wingtip, and spotted his I'lir, alive, whole, there.

 

((I'lir!  I'lir mine!  Did you see it?  Did you see me?  I saved you!)) Muzzle still stained with blood, Belpheroth came towards I'lir with an awkward half-hop, stopping suddenly, ((I...I hurt.))

 

"Oh thank Faranth," I'lir sobbed.

 

((No, thank Belpheroth.  I saved you, not Faranth.  Right?))

 

[[Of course, of course you did.  Of course you did.]]

 

Sensing that something was wrong, deeply wrong with S'van, Exoth had lunged for the Barracks, roaring, making as much haste to his rider's side as he possibly could. He arrived just in time to place his forearm firmly in S'van's path to stop his rider's movement. S'van shouldn't be moving, he was hurt, he was *bleeding,* inside and out. Ruby red eyes fixed momentarily on I'lir and Belpheroth as Exoth pivoted his body to put his bulk between them and S'van. Then he crouched down, craning his head around to regard his rider with deep concern and something close to terror.

 

S'van pressed fisted hands against his eyes, a vain attempt to staunch the tears. He couldn't do anything right, nothing. He held Exoth back because he was weak and useless and worthless, he ruined everything for everyone that got close to him, B'rar, Aalis, Exoth -- Exoth most of all, he was nothing but a useless burden to his own dragon, Exoth would have been better off picking someone else, anyone else --

 

((*NO!*)) Exoth denied it, with every inch of himself he denied it, rejected it, that train of thought should not exist, he would not LET it exist! ((You are MINE, S'van, I want you here, I want you with me, I want YOU! Don't you want me, too?)) The brown's tone was gruff, impatient, a stupid rhetorical question but oh, the sudden spike of fear and uncertainty, it hurt --

 

"More than anything," S'van whispered, jaw clenched, mouth twisted, chin trembling as he fought to keep from sobbing outright. "But I'm not good enough, I don't deserve you, I -- "

 

((*I* DECIDE THAT!)) Exoth pressed his body as closely around his rider as he could manage, pressed down on S'van physically and mentally and emotionally, he would MAKE his rider see reason. ((You are MORE than good enough, you put your whole heart into everything you do, and even when it doesn't work, you KEEP trying. I don't *CARE* if you succeed or not! You are *TRYING,* you never *STOP* trying, and I *LOVE* you for it! No one is better than you! No one could ever *BE* better than you! I am *YOUR* dragon! DO YOU BELIEVE IN ME OR NOT?))

 

The brown panted, out of breath as if he'd been physically vocalizing that pure outpouring of unadulterated emotion.

 

Shuddering, body wracked with sobs, dizzy and light-headed from blood loss, S'van buried his face in his dragon's neck. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."



--Cheshire & Allie w/ S'van & I'lir



(OOC: Aaaaaand now the authority figures can arrive and the fun can truly begin! 8D


Injuries:

S'van -- Bel's teeth got pretty deep into the meat of his left thigh (closer to his knee than to his hip), and also left some deep claw wounds on his left calf. They'll scar and he'll probably be walking with a slight limp for a while even after he heals, though physical therapy can eventually have him walking normally again.

I'lir -- S'van broke I'lir's nose and it's probably going to heal somewhat crookedly.  I'lir also has bruises on his arm from where S'van grabbed him, and he's going to be a bit disoriented and dizzy from the impact of being punched in the face.

Belpheroth -- Bel's hide got pretty scraped up in his slide across the room and he got a slightly deeper cut on his leg from where one of the drawers hit him at a bad angle.  He also has a few bruises from his crash, but he didn't break anything.)







Some called it a sixth sense.

I'zaj and Subalth called it experience. Also, a fleet of sensitive, alert assistants prowling the Weyrling areas at all times. It was also just hard to miss a thirty-three foot dragon bolting through his domain, even if he was only (only!) fifteen months old. Subalth snapped to full alert as Exoth tore past and I'zaj bolted out of his office toward the barracks, Subalth reporting on Exoth's direction. I'zaj arrived just after Exoth, but not quickly enough to stop the series of events that was already in motion. He did get to hear an awful lot of it, though--like the violence, and bellowing for Subalth to call Channith. Subalth echoed his rider's urgency and fear. ((CHANNITH! FIGHT IN THE WEYRLING BARRACKS. COME.))

Subalth was probably the only dragon in the history of forever who could successfully order Channith. And then, because weyrling fights were unpredictable and volatile, Subalth edged closer and closer to the barracks, ready to mimic Exoth's flight if any of the paper-thin babies (well, not so much Exoth, not anymore) made a wrong move toward I'zaj. His eyes shone a trigger-happy amber, ready to leap forward at any notice.

I'zaj skidded to a halt; Exoth guarded what was probably S'van, and given the eerie crimson of his eyes and general posture, if he had been any younger... I'zaj fought of a shudder. "Exoth." He said guardedly. "May I see to I'lir and Belpheroth? Does S'van need a healer?" He was *not* about to just push past Exoth, not about to get within reaching distance of the brown. That was how concussions and disemboweling happened.

Subalth crept ever closer, nosing inside the Barracks. ((Belpheroth. This is Subalth. Talk to me. Tell me what you and I'lir need. Channith is coming. Everything will be alright. Shall we also call Xaevir? Are you injured?))

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<I'zaj skidded to a halt; Exoth guarded what was probably S'van, and given the eerie crimson of his eyes and general posture, if he had been any younger... I'zaj fought of a shudder. "Exoth." He said guardedly. "May I see to I'lir and Belpheroth? Does S'van need a healer?" He was *not* about to just push past Exoth, not about to get within reaching distance of the brown. That was how concussions and disemboweling happened.

Subalth crept ever closer, nosing inside the Barracks. ((Belpheroth. This is Subalth. Talk to me. Tell me what you and I'lir need. Channith is coming. Everything will be alright. Shall we also call Xaevir? Are you injured?))>>

At I'zaj and Subalth's approach Exoth's gaze snapped to them, and he growled warningly - he did *not* trust them, not an *inch,* not when S'van was hurting and hurting and hurting.

When he heard their questions, though... I'zaj was asking for permission to look at the babies, who did need it, and if S'van needed a Healer. Subalth was doing his job and also checking on the baby, but leaving Exoth and S'van alone.

...Acceptable.

((S'van needs a Healer,)) Exoth replied curtly, words short and sharp and full of warning - he'd do and say what he had to so that I'zaj and Subalth could do their jobs, but he *would not* let them hurt or upset S'van anymore. He *would.* *NOT.* ((Think those two do too. You can go check on them.)) His burning red eyes ticked over to Subalth, watching the bronze with wariness and suspicion. He growled again, this time softly, more by instinct than by choice, at a potential threat to his rider.

Protected by Exoth's body crouched and coiled around him, S'van wasn't even aware of I'zaj and Subalth's presences' - he just continued to sob brokenly. Exoth grudgingly took his eyes off Subalth for a moment so he could nuzzle his rider and croon lovingly. Not his usual style, but S'van needed it, and Exoth would do whatever S'van needed. His rider's mind no longer felt like it was teetering over the edge of a cliff, but it was no more than one or two steps back, either, and there was broken glass of stress and grief and pain and wrongness everywhere, stabbing into S'van's heart and threatening to tear it to shreds if one wrong word was said.



--Cheshire w/ S'van & Exoth

[Rachel]

Part of being the Weyrlingmaster was just having blood of ice. Exoth growled, but I'zaj stood firm until Exoth granted permission to move past him. I'zaj gave the weyrling brown a curt nod and stepped into the wallow. "Tell Subalth how bad it is so we can get specialists here faster if we need to." Then he moved into the wallow.

"I'lir?" He froze just past the threshold, searching out the forms. "Belpheroth? Are you two okay?" There was blood on the floor. A lot of it. From different angles, different trajectories; likely different wounds.

((Subalth. Xaevir, Zarak--I don't know what happened, but we need Xaevir, and whatever dragon-smart human healers he can scrounge up.))

Subalth watched Exoth warily. ((Exoth, healers will be here as quickly as they can. Are you wounded? What is needed and how shall we go about it?)) Exoth might have been only fifteen months, and horribly upset, but he was also intelligent and rational, and Subalth had faith in him to act in S'van's best interest.

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[Kait]

Channith had been sunning - enjoying the warmth while Bhira focused on the seemingly never-ending stream of paperwork that fell to her desk on a daily basis - when the voice broke into her silence. ((Bhira-mine. The young ones fight. Come, we must go. Now.)) All ready there was a command in her voice. It wasn't necessary with Bhira, who was already getting out of her seat and moving out to her dragon. 

The pair landed moments later, and immediately started to work to calm all the dragons in the area. ((You will calm yourselves.)) The gold ordered, peering in the area where the fight was. ((Go, they may need you within.)) She told her rider privately. ((Calm, little ones. We're here to help. No one will hurt Yours. But you both must remain calm, and let us in to help.)) She started to ease carefully into the barracks, folding her wings to fit better as Subalth moved to let her in further.

Bhira strode in, gaze taking in the entire scene. She couldn't lose her cool here - not when she could feel Channith working to tone down the stress and anger in the barracks. "Are the boys okay?" These were her weyrlings, her responsibility. She'd send dragons to fetch the sharding healers herself if she had to, but she wouldn't suffer any more harm to come to any of them. 

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--

Her majesty, the Queen of the Nine Hells, Mistress of the Black Choir, Lady of the Dark, Duchess of the Seven Seas, Princess of the Musketeers, Scourge of Man, Commander of the Blacksail Fleet, Captain of the Eight Wonder... And Governor of a small secluded village down the coast... Kait!

[Allison Herzig]

Subalth crept ever closer, nosing inside the Barracks. ((Belpheroth. This is Subalth. Talk to me. Tell me what you and I'lir need. Channith is coming. Everything will be alright. Shall we also call Xaevir? Are you injured?))

"I'lir?" He froze just past the threshold, searching out the forms. "Belpheroth? Are you two okay?" There was blood on the floor. A lot of it. From different angles, different trajectories; likely different wounds.

Belpheroth looked up with a start.  Subalth was here?  When had Subalth gotten here?  And I'zaj... ((I only hurt a little.  I won!  I beat the big scary bad thing!  Did you see me?  I was awesome!  Uh...I'lir...I'LIR!))

[[Shh, shh, I'm here.  It's alright, we're quite alright,]] I'lir managed, blinking spots away from his eye.  Shock.  He rather thought he was going into shock.  Must be why his vision was clouding, only rational explanation...He supposed it was a sensible enough reaction, he didn't believe he'd ever been struck before...Huh. So this was what injury felt like then.  Wasn't so bad.

"I am perfectly..." I'lir began.  Wait, what was the term again?  He'd had the word for an instant.  Ah, yes, that was the one, "Perfectly well, Master I'zaj.  Perfectly."

The pair landed moments later, and immediately started to work to calm all the dragons in the area. ((You will calm yourselves.)) The gold ordered, peering in the area where the fight was. ((Go, they may need you within.)) She told her rider privately. ((Calm, little ones. We're here to help. No one will hurt Yours. But you both must remain calm, and let us in to help.)) She started to ease carefully into the barracks, folding her wings to fit better as Subalth moved to let her in further.

Bhira strode in, gaze taking in the entire scene. She couldn't lose her cool here - not when she could feel Channith working to tone down the stress and anger in the barracks. "Are the boys okay?" These were her weyrlings, her responsibility. She'd send dragons to fetch the sharding healers herself if she had to, but she wouldn't suffer any more harm to come to any of them. 

((Mom?)) Belpheroth asked curiously, before adding with a hint of petulance, ((I am calm.  I'm always calm.))

"Mom?" I'lir asked hazily, "Why's my mother here, Belpheroth?...Oh.  My apologies, Weyrwoman, I didn't note you.  I fear I seem to be in a bit of a predicament."

[Kil]

---------

Sh'an appeared a few beats later, a little flush-faced and rumpled from his mad-dash to get her in a timely manner. Being called in to assist with something like this wasn't necessary a *good* thing (considering, you know, the injured people), but he sure was happy he got to be in the thick of it. Sh'an *lived* for Healing - er, before Ijith, whatever. 

"Sh'an, healer," he introduced himself, dipping his head to all the necessary authority figures before slipping into the wallow. He saw one rather large brownpair, one rather small bronzepair, and a whole lot of blood. Disgusting. But fascinating. It looked like there was a leg-wound and some sort of face-wound, and considering the generally imposing look of the brown guarding his rider, Sh'an decided to deal with the injury to the face, and the generally smaller and less ferocious looking pair. 

"Hey, there, I'm a healer and I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He greeted I'lir, though his tone was appropriately measured and soft rather than upbeat and cheerful. "Tell me exactly where it hurts, okay? I'm going to have to touch you a bit - can you tell your dragon that I'm only trying to help?" He didn't want the bronze to flip out and get possessive (because the last thing *he* needed was a dragon-bite in his *own* leg) and so restricted himself to peering at I'lir's bloody face from a respectable distance until he got permission to be up close and personal. "Looks like a broken nose, but don't worry, those heal up quick." Sh'an tried *really* hard to leave the unadulterated glee out of his voice as he spoke and busied himself with scrubbing his hands with redwort from the kit he'd brought. He LOVED broken bones, and though a nose didn't *quite* fit the ticket, it was sure better than nothing. Maybe there'd also be a cheekbone or orbital fracture he could play with...

Kil 

[Rachel]

Of course. With part of his mind back with S'van, and beyond incredibly worried about S'van and Exoth, the stress of the whole situation almost made him want to grin. One of his former charges was tending to a current charge. Wasn't that just how life went. "I'lir, son, you are *not* okay. Careful, Sh'an. Keep a mind out for Ijith, too, but mind I'lir's head. He's rattled pretty good."

With a nod to Bhira, he began edging out. "I'll yield this room to you, Weyrwoman, and see to the pair outside." Belpheroth didn't look too bad, superficial, and I'lir would be within Sh'an's capability. Now, Exoth and S'van... and at least he could use his old craft training to look over Exoth from a safe distance.

--

[Aaron C.]

On Mar 31, 2013 8:30 PM, "Kil" <lavalamp...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> "Hey, there, I'm a healer and I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He greeted I'lir, though his tone was appropriately measured and soft rather than upbeat and cheerful. "Tell me exactly where it hurts, okay? I'm going to have to touch you a bit - can you tell your dragon that I'm only trying to help?" He didn't want the bronze to flip out and get possessive (because the last thing *he* needed was a dragon-bite in his *own* leg) and so restricted himself to peering at I'lir's bloody face from a respectable distance until he got permission to be up close and personal. "Looks like a broken nose, but don't worry, those heal up quick." Sh'an tried *really* hard to leave the unadulterated glee out of his voice as he spoke and busied himself with scrubbing his hands with redwort from the kit he'd brought. He LOVED broken bones, and though a nose didn't *quite* fit the ticket, it was sure better than nothing. Maybe there'd also be a cheekbone or orbital fracture he could play with...

((Hello, little hero!)) Lunakath greeted Belpheroth, his tone warm and calming, soothing and smooth, almost like a big brother to a younger who had played a hard round of tackleball and skinned his knee.

((Your battle was a hard one, but you have protected your rider so very gallantly. My name is Lunakath, but you may call me Luna. My rider is E'lis, and he is there with the dragonhealers.)) With this, Luna sent an image of the soft faced blond man standing out of the way but where Belpheroth could see him. He saluted on cue from his blue. ((He would very much like to tend to your wounds now that your rider is safe and tended as well. May he examine you?))

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<Part of being the Weyrlingmaster was just having blood of ice. Exoth growled, but I'zaj stood firm until Exoth granted permission to move past him. I'zaj gave the weyrling brown a curt nod and stepped into the wallow. "Tell Subalth how bad it is so we can get specialists here faster if we need to." Then he moved into the wallow.>>

<<Subalth watched Exoth warily. ((Exoth, healers will be here as quickly as they can. Are you wounded? What is needed and how shall we go about it?)) Exoth might have been only fifteen months, and horribly upset, but he was also intelligent and rational, and Subalth had faith in him to act in S'van's best interest.>>

((I'm not wounded,)) Exoth replied shortly. ((S'van's leg is bleeding a lot, and hurts a lot. That bronze bit him and clawed him, and I think the puncture wounds from his teeth are pretty deep. He needs a Healer, quickly.)) He did *not* appreciate the Healers running to check on those damn babies before coming over to see to S'van, who was easily the worst injured of the three. (He wasn't feeling gracious enough to acknowledge that this was probably his own fault, what with his looming being frightening and also mostly blocking S'van from sight.)

<<The pair landed moments later, and immediately started to work to calm all the dragons in the area. ((You will calm yourselves.)) The gold ordered, peering in the area where the fight was. ((Go, they may need you within.)) She told her rider privately. ((Calm, little ones. We're here to help. No one will hurt Yours. But you both must remain calm, and let us in to help.)) She started to ease carefully into the barracks, folding her wings to fit better as Subalth moved to let her in further.>>

Exoth relaxed a *little* at Channith's arrival and intervention, and did struggle to regain as much calm and objectivity as he could, but shards, it was like changing trajectories to hunt a trundlebug instead of a herd of herdbeasts.

Reluctantly, eyes blazing crimson warnings at anyone who might get any funny ideas, Exoth shifted his position so that a Healer would be able to approach S'van. S'van himself was still checked out, one hand covering his face as he wept while the fingers of the other dug desperately into the hide of Exoth's neck. His injured leg was sprawled out, drenched in blood, while the other was tucked up against his chest.

Exoth rumbled quietly, nuzzling his rider, not wanting to go a single moment without reminding S'van that he was loved, that he was needed, that everything would be okay.

[Geo]

A quiet day in the Infirmary turned hectic in an instant when word hit that there were injuries in the Weyrling Barracks. Rhianna had just walked in, Candidate lessons had just finished, and she was going to do some paperwork before the next item on her schedule. All of a sudden the place exploded with activity. Injuries, Weyrlings, no other immediate word. Rhianna saw someone race out the door in a dead sprint, and then someone was talking with her. "They grabbed a short kit and ran. We've no idea who's hurt nor how bad. You're going over with a journeyman as the second team, large kit bag with most everything. The journeyman takes charge of injuries as needed, and you assist. You're also the relay if things are serious and we need to prep for a major injury. Send your Fire Lizard back as a message. Questions?"  

She had none, and being handed the large bag, she swung it on her back and followed the journeyman out the door at a fast clip, heart racing. Soon enough they arrived, and bowing heads to authority figures she stood back a moment and observed the situation. First job was to report. There was already someone unpacking near I'lir. She knew the face, fellow senior apprentice. The young bronzerider looked battered but was by no means in peril of death from current injuries. Glancing towards the larger brownpair, she couldn't see the boy. The brown was crouched protectively around his rider, and she couldn't see a thing, damn.

 Biting her lip, she heard the journeyman speak up, asking the Weyrlingmaster and Weyrwoman what the rider's injuries were, and if the brown would permit their approach so they could work. The answer was yes, and the brown had moved a little allowing her to see the rider. Leg injuries, pretty nasty. Bite marks and gashes that looked like clawing. Significant bleeding. Slowly moving forward so as not to startle the brown, she set the bag down and made a snap decision to help work first and communicate second. Skie in this type of environment would be all kinds of trouble. 

"S'van and Exoth. Let's set up and divide tasks. I want to stop the bleeding first." Rhi nodded, and they both started unpacking bandages, redwort, numbweed, Rhi set aside a splint for later, broken bones were a possibility. 

"Exoth, S'van, I'm Journeyman Tymal. This is my partner Healer Rhianna. We're here to help. Ok? This is going to hurt at first, I need you to stay strong and we'll remove the pain as quick as possible." With that the two set to work cleaning the obviously injured leg.

Geo~

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<"S'van and Exoth. Let's set up and divide tasks. I want to stop the bleeding first." Rhi nodded, and they both started unpacking bandages, redwort, numbweed, Rhi set aside a splint for later, broken bones were a possibility. 

"Exoth, S'van, I'm Journeyman Tymal. This is my partner Healer Rhianna. We're here to help. Ok? This is going to hurt at first, I need you to stay strong and we'll remove the pain as quick as possible." With that the two set to work cleaning the obviously injured leg.>>

S'van only jolted to awareness when they touched his leg and pain shot through him, and his head snapped up, his body instinctively trying to flinch back even though there was no room to do so, tear-drenched eyes wild and panicked as he panted hoarsely.

Exoth nuzzled his rider more insistently, rumbling reassurance. ((It's okay, you're okay, they're Healers. They'll help you. I won't let anybody touch you who would hurt you, S'van, I promise.))

S'van met his dragon's eyes, and then slumped back, shoulders hunched defensively, head canted sideways and back to rest against Exoth's hide, eyes sliding away and staring at nothing, eyebrows knitted and teeth clenched as he tried to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks. Failing that, he lifted his hand to cover his eyes again, the other not releasing its desperate grip on Exoth. He flinched and grunted a little when the Healers' ministrations were particularly painful, but otherwise said nothing and let them do their work.

[Geo]

The journeyman focused his attentions on the bite marks, and Rhi kept her attentions towards the gashes that had been clawed into the leg. For each seperate wound it was a similar process, swab with wet cloth to remove excess blood, flush with redwort to minimize risk of infection. Suspected bites got a double dose. Afterwards, apply thin layer of numbweed, re-swabbing area as needed to remove excess blood. Finally, carefully wrap in bandage to minimize continued bleeding. 

By her count, S'van was due for a number of stitches, but that would come later. For now they worked in relative silence. Occasionally one or the other would offer a word of encouragement. Finally finishing her work, Rhi checked on her partner. "Just one more time around and then we're done for the moment S'van. Hang with us just a little longer." In a lower tone,he added to Rhi. "Go ahead and make a report to the Weyrwoman and WeyrlingMaster, and then get a message off the the Infirmary. Rider stable, but injured. Stand down the emergency team." 

Nodding, Rhi stood upright and walked the few paces to where the two figures of authority were. Nerves masked by the adrenaline still pumping she spoke. "Sir, ma'am. The brownrider is now is a tentatively stable condition. We'd like to move him as soon as is possible to the Infirmary so we can finish what we've started here. If you'll excuse me just a moment, I'll answer any questions you might have." Stepping out into the hall before they could say anything, Rhi found another pair of Healers keeping their distance so as not to crowd into a situation. Both apprentices this time. More importantly they had brought stretchers. 

"One of you please run back and let them know that we've got non-life threatening injuries inbound. One rider with a lacerated leg, moderately injured and one with what looked to be a broken nose, possible head injury. No bleeding. Keep those stretches here." Duty done, she returned to the rankers. "My apologies for walking away. The infirmary is in crisis mode and we needed to update them. Do you have any questions for me at this time?    

Geo~

Rhi and NPC

[Kait]

While Channith continued to calm the room - adult and weyrling dragons alike - Bhira turned her attention to the Healer in front of her. She nodded at the report of the injuries, mostly satisfied. Not completely, of course - the situation was unacceptable on many levels. But no lives had been lost, and the healers seemed confident in their ability to fix both boys. The girl could have updated her people, then let both her and I'zaj know what was going on, but it was a minor enough thing considering the situation. "None. Channith will keep the dragons calm for when you are ready to move their riders."

((You are being calm, very calm. Brave Belpheroth. The Healers will need to move your rider. I need you to stay calm for them, okay? They won't hurt him. And the healers are going to tend to you as well, my brave boy.)) She crooned, staying as out-of-the-way as a Gold could be, given the tight quarters. 

--

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[Arielle]

Xaevir had been having a relatively normal day, a few accidental chars from misplaced flamings during drills and one rather shocked young rider who discovered she was pregnant from brand new vertigo and her rather panicked young blue. Well, he wasn't THAT young of a dragon, but young enough and with enough of a childlike temperament to be upset enough to see a dragonhealer to calm him down and talk it out. That was, until Subalth's voice distinctly and urgently called for his presence at the Weyrling Barracks. In an instant he'd grabbed his medical bag - full of everything and anything he might need - and had exited his office. He made his way through the main Infirmary with quite a few worried glances from his more senior Journeymen who knew just what the look on his face likely meant.

The Master Dragonhealer's fair of firelizards flittered around him, before he gave them a /very/ firm order to return to his office to wait. After that, he had no problem making a quick jog of it to the Weyrling Barracks. He slid past Subalth with a serious nod, assuming the bronze would understand his lack of staid respect in favor of healing the injured dragonets in question. Upon finding the scene he was glad to see that E'lis had predicated any need for him to ask Arzi to call for another Dragonhealer. "Alright, let's see what's what, shall we?" he asked the younger man, moving into the wallow to see who his patients were. Ah, Belpheroth, and his I'lir. The two had been in only a day or so ago, despite their first physical having been only a few weeks prior. While Xaevir could applaud the young man's initiative in ensuring that his dragon was healthy at all times, there was such a thing as overboard paranoia.

Xaevir knelt down by the pair, not mindful of any blood or ichor he might be kneeling in. "Hello, I'lir, Belpheroth, please, let me see what's going on." He turned his attention to the young bronze's open wound while he scrubbed his hands with redwort from his bag to sanitize them. It looked as though it would need a few stitches, but nothing that would require a likely more stressful trip to the Infirmary. "Give me just one moment, alright?" he asked before rising and turning to face his Journeyman. "E'lis, would you mind working on the abrasions Belpheroth has towards the front of him, for now? I'll be back in just a moment to work on the gash in his leg."

Orders given, the Master Dragonhealer moved to stand near Bhira. "Weyrwoman," he began, keeping his back to the boys and speaking quietly enough that they would not hear him in the commotion of healers present. Nothing required surgery, but stitches would be scary, and certainly serious, for a dragonet as young as Belpheroth was. "Please have Channith pay extra special attention to Belpheroth and in keeping him calm. He needs stitches for the gash on his leg." He raised one hand to calm any upset she might show, reasonably so at the situation. "It won't need to be done in the Infirmary, as small a wound as it is, and considering the skill at hand, but it will be something full of trepidation for a dragonet so young." He gave her a respectful nod. "Thank you." Upon her agreement he turned back to his patient.

[Aaron C.]

On Mar 31, 2013 10:19 PM, "Arielle" <wildma...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> Xaevir had been having a relatively normal day, a few accidental chars from misplaced flamings during drills and one rather shocked young rider who discovered she was pregnant from brand new vertigo and her rather panicked young blue. Well, he wasn't THAT young of a dragon, but young enough and with enough of a childlike temperament to be upset enough to see a dragonhealer to calm him down and talk it out. That was, until Subalth's voice distinctly and urgently called for his presence at the Weyrling Barracks. In an instant he'd grabbed his medical bag - full of everything and anything he might need - and had exited his office. He made his way through the main Infirmary with quite a few worried glances from his more senior Journeymen who knew just what the look on his face likely meant.
>
> The Master Dragonhealer's fair of firelizards flittered around him, before he gave them a /very/ firm order to return to his office to wait. After that, he had no problem making a quick jog of it to the Weyrling Barracks. He slid past Subalth with a serious nod, assuming the bronze would understand his lack of staid respect in favor of healing the injured dragonets in question. Upon finding the scene he was glad to see that E'lis had predicated any need for him to ask Arzi to call for another Dragonhealer. "Alright, let's see what's what, shall we?" he asked the younger man, moving into the wallow to see who his patients were. Ah, Belpheroth, and his I'lir. The two had been in only a day or so ago, despite their first physical having been only a few weeks prior. While Xaevir could applaud the young man's initiative in ensuring that his dragon was healthy at all times, there was such a thing as overboard paranoia.
>
> Xaevir knelt down by the pair, not mindful of any blood or ichor he might be kneeling in. "Hello, I'lir, Belpheroth, please, let me see what's going on." He turned his attention to the young bronze's open wound while he scrubbed his hands with redwort from his bag to sanitize them. It looked as though it would need a few stitches, but nothing that would require a likely more stressful trip to the Infirmary. "Give me just one moment, alright?" he asked before rising and turning to face his Journeyman. "E'lis, would you mind working on the abrasions Belpheroth has towards the front of him, for now? I'll be back in just a moment to work on the gash in his leg."
>
> Orders given, the Master Dragonhealer moved to stand near Bhira. "Weyrwoman," he began, keeping his back to the boys and speaking quietly enough that they would not hear him in the commotion of healers present. Nothing required surgery, but stitches would be scary, and certainly serious, for a dragonet as young as Belpheroth was. "Please have Channith pay extra special attention to Belpheroth and in keeping him calm. He needs stitches for the gash on his leg." He raised one hand to calm any upset she might show, reasonably so at the situation. "It won't need to be done in the Infirmary, as small a wound as it is, and considering the skill at hand, but it will be something full of trepidation for a dragonet so young." He gave her a respectful nod. "Thank you." Upon her agreement he turned back to his patient.

While chance had seen him arrive at the barracks more quickly than Xaevir, E'lis was more than relieved to see the master himself join him on the scene. It meant he could simply follow orders rather than having to act on his own initiative.

((Look, little hero! The master joins my E'lis in coming to your aid. All is well.)) Luna sounded rather cheerful, though he was always full of optimism.

"Aye, sir," E'lis answered, moving carefully to act as instructed while still taking note of the weyrling's disposition.

[Rachel]

I'zaj nodded to Rhianna, letting Bhira's acknowledgment serve for them both. Subalth might be able to, on occasion, boss Channith, but he didn't get to supersede Bhira. He edged further against the wall to clear the hallway more. It was getting rather crowded in there, with two healers on S'van and three in with I'lir and Belpheroth. Not to mention two big ol' dragons.

"Exoth," I'zaj said softly, "how would you like to move S'van? Do you want to follow or lead to the infirmary? Subalth can clear the way for you if you'd like." Until those eyes quit glowing red, he was going to give that brown all the deference in the world.

--

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<"Exoth," I'zaj said softly, "how would you like to move S'van? Do you want to follow or lead to the infirmary? Subalth can clear the way for you if you'd like." Until those eyes quit glowing red, he was going to give that brown all the deference in the world.>>

Exoth rumbled, indecisive and agitated to be so. Healers touching S'van right now was fine, because S'van needed it and anyway he was also in contact with his rider, but in order for S'van to be carried to the Infirmary, he would have to break contact with him, and he didn't want that. Especially not when S'van was still being so unresponsive. But if S'van *needed* to be brought to the Infirmary... Ugh.

((I'll follow,)) he said at last, if extremely grudgingly. At the very least, that way he could keep his eyes on S'van, and the Healers touching him. ((But make sure no one touches him who doesn't have to,)) Exoth added darkly, lips curling back from his teeth a little in a silent warning snarl for the Healers. He knew better than to prevent them from doing their job, but he was *not* trusting *anyone* one inch more than he absolutely had to. ((And I'm staying with him, so they'd better put him in a bed a dragon can fit next to,)) he said with absolute finality.

He then turned his attention to nuzzling S'van and rumbling reassurance to him. ((They need to put you on a stretcher to get you to the Infirmary,)) he told his rider quietly, ((but I'm not going anywhere, S'van, I'm staying right by your side, no matter what. I'm here. I love you. Everything will be okay.))

S'van didn't want to think about anything - thinking hurt too much, feeling *hurt* too much - so he let Exoth's words wash through him, his world shrinking to revolve around Exoth's voice, Exoth's thoughts, Exoth's feelings. Exoth loved him, trusted him, believed in him. And he returned those feelings in full. He didn't deserve such a magnificent dragon, but he had him - oh, he was the luckiest man in the world, for having him - and so he knew that right now, given how useless he was, he could leave everything for Faranth. He'd feel a little guilty about it, but that was a drop of water in the ocean he was already half-drowning in.

[Rachel]

"Journeyman." I'zaj caught the man's attention. "When you are ready to transport S'van, please bow or make a similar respectful sign toward Exoth before proceeding. Exoth will follow you to the infirmary. Only the required healers are to touch him, and Exoth must stay with him at all times. Please keep him in a dragon infirmary to accommodate Exoth. I will be in shortly to check on him and get a full report. If anything changes, reach me through Subalth."

I'zaj nodded at Exoth again. ((And you,)) he said to Subalth, ((be a role model of trust and back out of the barracks now, please. We need room to maneuver.))

Subalth grumped a bit, but complied. ((You tell me if you need anything.)) He said gruffly to Exoth. ((Including telling other people to shut up or go away.)) Subalth was a dragon, damn it. He understood these things.

I'zaj glanced over 'his' scene one more time and then went to the wallow entrance. "Weyrwoman? We're preparing to move S'van out, to the infirmary. How goes the progress in here?"

Subalth added to Channith, ((so if Exoth panics, be ready.))

--

[Geo]

Rhi nodded to the two rankers, "Sir, ma'am." Stepped out into the hallway again, she looked towards the remaining apprentice. "The journeyman and I shall be carrying the brownrider out. See that the way is clear, as much as is possible, and once we're outside, let those waiting for us know we're going to go to dragon Infirmary two. That should be open. I'll take this, and off you go. The brown will be with us, so if you have any updates, we're easy enough to find. Just approach slowly if you have to come back." The other apprentice nodded, and hurried away. Picking up the stretcher, Rhi carried it carefully back to where the journeyman was standing. She heard him acknowledge the Weyrlingmaster.

"Yes sir, we'll do that. It will be just the two of us handling the movement." He caught Rhi's eye, and she moved closer for a quick hushed conference. "You take front, and I back for rolling him on the stretcher. We'll do a two part slow move. Rotate him so that he's fully on his side, and slide the stretcher up and roll him on. Slow as we can manage. We bow to the dragon before starting, and if you want to say something as well, that'd be fine. Questions?" She had none, and turning towards the brown they made a slight bow, held it for a few moments, and Rhi realized that she was the one that was charged with saying something as her partner positioned the stretcher.

"Exoth, S'van, we're going to put you onto a stretcher now. Just the two of us ok? S'van, let us do all the moving, keep yourself loose, and we'll have you on your way in no time." It took a certain kind of bravery to get up close and personal with a distressed young dragon. Putting aside any fear of those bared teeth, Rhi took up her station, kneeling and when the journeyman was ready, they carefully rolled the Weyrling onto his side. While she kept him in that position, the journeyman slipped the stretcher against S'van's back. Once ready, the two healers rolled the patient the opposite way as slowly as was possible so that the was centered on the stretcher. Even with the gentleness of the maneuver, it had hurt, so the two paused a moment. The journeyman cast an eye over their prior work, still holding just fine, and Rhi glanced around making sure the way was clear. 

"Clear the way please." Another glance at the journeyman, pointedly ignoring the dragon looming right next to them. "Good here." A nod in return, and then the man spoke. "Exoth, we're going to pick your rider up now and start moving." A final glance towards her. "Lift on three. One, two, three." And up they went. Slowly.

Geo~

Rhi and NPC

[Allison Herzig]

Of course. With part of his mind back with S'van, and beyond incredibly worried about S'van and Exoth, the stress of the whole situation almost made him want to grin. One of his former charges was tending to a current charge. Wasn't that just how life went. "I'lir, son, you are *not* okay. Careful, Sh'an. Keep a mind out for Ijith, too, but mind I'lir's head. He's rattled pretty good." 

"I am perfectly well.  Perfectly," I'lir repeated, giving another blink, bringing the world snapping back into focus.  That was the way of it.  He just had to avoid idling.  He would be just fine if he avoided idling.  Laziness was the root of...something or other.  I'lir had never overly cared for proverbs anyways.

"Hey, there, I'm a healer and I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He greeted I'lir, though his tone was appropriately measured and soft rather than upbeat and cheerful. "Tell me exactly where it hurts, okay? I'm going to have to touch you a bit - can you tell your dragon that I'm only trying to help?"

Xaevir knelt down by the pair, not mindful of any blood or ichor he might be kneeling in. "Hello, I'lir, Belpheroth, please, let me see what's going on." He turned his attention to the young bronze's open wound while he scrubbed his hands with redwort from his bag to sanitize them. It looked as though it would need a few stitches, but nothing that would require a likely more stressful trip to the Infirmary. "Give me just one moment, alright?" he asked before rising and turning to face his Journeyman. "E'lis, would you mind working on the abrasions Belpheroth has towards the front of him, for now? I'll be back in just a moment to work on the gash in his leg." 

Ah, the Healers had arrived!  Excellent!  A most fortuitous turn of events.  Most fortuitous indeed!  Master Xaevir ought put Belpheroth to rights quick enough, quick enough.  Now, where was the numbweed?  I'lir ought to handle that himself, he rather thought, protect his Belpheroth from gratuitous handling.  Now there was a good word, "Gratuitous...I quite like the sound of that.  Ought to use it more.  Now, if you'll pardon me, may I assist in these most fine proceedings?  I believe...Why, I believe that is Belpheroth's preference.  As for the location of the symptoms, Healer...I believe it is his right leg...No, that's his left, is it not?  Forgive me, my perception seems a bit muddled at the moment."

((Hello, little hero!)) Lunakath greeted Belpheroth, his tone warm and calming, soothing and smooth, almost like a big brother to a younger who had played a hard round of tackleball and skinned his knee.

((Your battle was a hard one, but you have protected your rider so very gallantly. My name is Lunakath, but you may call me Luna. My rider is E'lis, and he is there with the dragonhealers.)) With this, Luna sent an image of the soft faced blond man standing out of the way but where Belpheroth could see him. He saluted on cue from his blue. ((He would very much like to tend to your wounds now that your rider is safe and tended as well. May he examine you?))

((Look, little hero! The master joins my E'lis in coming to your aid. All is well.)) Luna sounded rather cheerful, though he was always full of optimism.

((I was pretty great, wasn't I?  See, told them I was the hero!)) Belpheroth thought proudly.  He liked this blue!  And his rider.  He saluted him and everything! ((Gallant's a good word.  Yeah...I'm gallant.  And I'm gonna be alright...but I guess if he has to...Does he have to?  Can't he just go look at I'lir instead?  He's all muddled inside.  Why-why's he all muddled inside?  I'lir...I'lir...))

Belpheroth leaned over to nudge I'lir's arm.  That wasn't right...He shouldn't be all muddy...But he said he was here and I'lir wouldn't lie...

[[Still present.  Please permit the Healer to examine you.  I will attempt to aid you in but a moment, merely must get up from here.]]

OOC: Yeah, I'lir's pretty out of it and Bel keeps forgetting then remembering he's been hurt and is going back and forth between pride and panic, so feel free to ask for any clarification as it's a bit muddled at points.

[Aaron C.]

On Mon, Apr 1, 2013 at 4:08 PM, Allison Herzig <alld...@gmail.com> wrote:

"I am perfectly well.  Perfectly," I'lir repeated, giving another blink, bringing the world snapping back into focus.  That was the way of it.  He just had to avoid idling.  He would be just fine if he avoided idling.  Laziness was the root of...something or other.  I'lir had never overly cared for proverbs anyways.

 

Xaevir knelt down by the pair, not mindful of any blood or ichor he might be kneeling in. "Hello, I'lir, Belpheroth, please, let me see what's going on." He turned his attention to the young bronze's open wound while he scrubbed his hands with redwort from his bag to sanitize them. It looked as though it would need a few stitches, but nothing that would require a likely more stressful trip to the Infirmary. "Give me just one moment, alright?" he asked before rising and turning to face his Journeyman. "E'lis, would you mind working on the abrasions Belpheroth has towards the front of him, for now? I'll be back in just a moment to work on the gash in his leg." 

Ah, the Healers had arrived!  Excellent!  A most fortuitous turn of events.  Most fortuitous indeed!  Master Xaevir ought put Belpheroth to rights quick enough, quick enough.  Now, where was the numbweed?  I'lir ought to handle that himself, he rather thought, protect his Belpheroth from gratuitous handling.  Now there was a good word, "Gratuitous...I quite like the sound of that.  Ought to use it more.  Now, if you'll pardon me, may I assist in these most fine proceedings?  I believe...Why, I believe that is Belpheroth's preference.  As for the location of the symptoms, Healer...I believe it is his right leg...No, that's his left, is it not?  Forgive me, my perception seems a bit muddled at the moment."

((I was pretty great, wasn't I?  See, told them I was the hero!)) Belpheroth thought proudly.  He liked this blue!  And his rider.  He saluted him and everything! ((Gallant's a good word.  Yeah...I'm gallant.  And I'm gonna be alright...but I guess if he has to...Does he have to?  Can't he just go look at I'lir instead?  He's all muddled inside.  Why-why's he all muddled inside?  I'lir...I'lir...))

Belpheroth leaned over to nudge I'lir's arm.  That wasn't right...He shouldn't be all muddy...But he said he was here and I'lir wouldn't lie...

[[Still present.  Please permit the Healer to examine you.  I will attempt to aid you in but a moment, merely must get up from here.]]

  As instructed, E'lis began to very carefully apply redwort to Belpheroth's front end, taking care not to block his view of I'lir, his rider. 

  ((E'lis, I believe there is something more wrong with the little hero's rider, something beneath the surface. He is... muddled. I believe he should not be permitted to go to sleep,)) Lunakath sent to E'lis as he listened to Belpheroth. To the little bronze, he said, ((It is necessary that he tend to you; however, there is a rider healer that is tending to yours. Fear not, for I will ensure that they know well what ails him.))

   "Excuse me, Journeyman," he said to Sh'an, "but you may have already noticed. Luna tells me that Belpheroth thinks I'lir feels muddled on the inside. He says he shouldn't go to sleep. Maybe he has a concussion?" he ventured. He was not an experienced healer, though he had the basics of it down now that he had been an apprentice for some time since Luna's injury. While dragons and men did not often share similar injuries, he still knew what a concussion was.

[Kil]

Ah, the Healers had arrived!  Excellent!  A most fortuitous turn of events.  Most fortuitous indeed!  Master Xaevir ought put Belpheroth to rights quick enough, quick enough.  Now, where was the numbweed?  I'lir ought to handle that himself, he rather thought, protect his Belpheroth from gratuitous handling.  Now there was a good word, "Gratuitous...I quite like the sound of that.  Ought to use it more.  Now, if you'll pardon me, may I assist in these most fine proceedings?  I believe...Why, I believe that is Belpheroth's preference.  As for the location of the symptoms, Healer...I believe it is his right leg...No, that's his left, is it not?  Forgive me, my perception seems a bit muddled at the moment."

Sh'an blinked. Poor kid had either *forgotten* his question, misunderstood it, or was too confused to make sense of what was going on. Though, to be fair, there was a *lot* going on. Sh'an could barely keep track of all the people mulling about, especially when the dragonhealers converged upon the little bronze. "I'lir, I'm the Healer for *you*, okay? I'm going to set your nose, alright? It'll hurt a bit, so brace yourself...

In a normal circumstance Sh'an might've waited to stem the bleeding a bit, but he had to act fast before the swelling completely disguised the natural shape of the nose. "Ready?" He asked, gently placing his fingertips on either side of the feature, then, a beat later, pressed against the cartilage in an attempt to align everything. After another second or two of maneuvering, Sh'an was satisfied. He wanted to play with it a little more - and the kid's nose would probably still end up a little crooked - but it was the best he could do right now. "There you go," he said, in a stunning example of cheery bedside manner. "You look practically good as new!" He gave a weak laugh. 

"Breathe through your mouth," he counseled, then shoved some cotton into I'lir's nostrils. "We've got you keep your head elevated until the bleeding abates. You doing alright?" You know, considering you just got attacked...

 "Excuse me, Journeyman," he said to Sh'an, "but you may have already noticed. Luna tells me that Belpheroth thinks I'lir feels muddled on the inside. He says he shouldn't go to sleep. Maybe he has a concussion?" he ventured. He was not an experienced healer, though he had the basics of it down now that he had been an apprentice for some time since Luna's injury. While dragons and men did not often share similar injuries, he still knew what a concussion was.

Journeyman. Someone called him a Journeyman! Sh'an practically swooned, that was, until E'lis mentioned a 'concussion.' That was serious. And fascinating. "Uh-oh, thanks," he said, turning to lean in close to I'lir again. 

"I'lir, tell me exactly how you're feeling right now. Do you feel nauseous at all? Any ringing in your ears? Can you close your eyes for a few seconds then open them wide for me?" 

Kil

[Cheshire Pandacat]

<<Subalth grumped a bit, but complied. ((You tell me if you need anything.)) He said gruffly to Exoth. ((Including telling other people to shut up or go away.)) Subalth was a dragon, damn it. He understood these things.>>

Exoth grunted softly in response, the only acknowledgement he gave, his eyes pinned with fierce intensity on the Healers handling his rider. But he'd remember the offer, and take Subalth up on it the moment it seemed even half-likely to be necessary.

<<"Exoth, S'van, we're going to put you onto a stretcher now. Just the two of us ok? S'van, let us do all the moving, keep yourself loose, and we'll have you on your way in no time." It took a certain kind of bravery to get up close and personal with a distressed young dragon. Putting aside any fear of those bared teeth, Rhi took up her station, kneeling and when the journeyman was ready, they carefully rolled the Weyrling onto his side. While she kept him in that position, the journeyman slipped the stretcher against S'van's back. Once ready, the two healers rolled the patient the opposite way as slowly as was possible so that the was centered on the stretcher. Even with the gentleness of the maneuver, it had hurt, so the two paused a moment. The journeyman cast an eye over their prior work, still holding just fine, and Rhi glanced around making sure the way was clear. 

"Clear the way please." Another glance at the journeyman, pointedly ignoring the dragon looming right next to them. "Good here." A nod in return, and then the man spoke. "Exoth, we're going to pick your rider up now and start moving." A final glance towards her. "Lift on three. One, two, three." And up they went. Slowly.>>

S'van barely responded to the instructions, but did as they said, and let them shift him on the stretcher, flinching a little at the pain. Exoth's wings were folded tightly against his sides, and he held himself low to the ground; there was a distinctly predatory vibe to his movements as he prowled after them, every muscle taut.

--Cheshire w/ S'van & Exoth

(OOC: Will anyone need anything else from them until S'van's injury is treated and I'zaj goes to get his account of what happened? S'van's gonna continue to be pretty unresponsive and Exoth will continue to be extremely protective and possessive and growly. 8D;;;)

[Arielle]

Xaevir turned back to Belpheroth, kneeling down once more by the young bronze. Rifling through his bag, he pulled out his small case of needlethorns and a spool of gutthread. He kept these things balanced on his thigh as he once more cleansed his hands with redwort and put on thin leather gloves he'd had specially made for occasions like this. Once on, the Master took out his jar of numbweed and applied the thick paste liberally to the area of the sluggishly bleeding gash. It was lucky that Belpheroth was so young and healthy and seemed to have good clotting ability.

"Alright now, Belpheroth, I'lir, I'm going to start sewing up your wound. I've numbed it with numbweed, so it shouldn't hurt too much, but you will feel some pain and likely pressure in the area while I work. If anything hurts too much, tell me, preferably not by biting me. I'll put on more numbweed before I go on working, if that should happen." Warning given, Xaevir began his work, threading one needlethorn and starting at the top of the wound, keeping the edges of skin together and not pulling too tightly, to avoid puckering and therefore a scar that might tear and crack open in future.

[Allison Herzig]

Sh'an blinked. Poor kid had either *forgotten* his question, misunderstood it, or was too confused to make sense of what was going on. Though, to be fair, there was a *lot* going on. Sh'an could barely keep track of all the people mulling about, especially when the dragonhealers converged upon the little bronze. "I'lir, I'm the Healer for *you*, okay? I'm going to set your nose, alright? It'll hurt a bit, so brace yourself...

In a normal circumstance Sh'an might've waited to stem the bleeding a bit, but he had to act fast before the swelling completely disguised the natural shape of the nose. "Ready?" He asked, gently placing his fingertips on either side of the feature, then, a beat later, pressed against the cartilage in an attempt to align everything. After another second or two of maneuvering, Sh'an was satisfied. He wanted to play with it a little more - and the kid's nose would probably still end up a little crooked - but it was the best he could do right now. "There you go," he said, in a stunning example of cheery bedside manner. "You look practically good as new!" He gave a weak laugh. 

"Breathe through your mouth," he counseled, then shoved some cotton into I'lir's nostrils. "We've got you keep your head elevated until the bleeding abates. You doing alright?" You know, considering you just got attacked...

"Oh right, my nose," I'lir murmured, managing to straighten a bit, "Very well, you may attend to my nose.  Belpheroth is being seen to, yes?"

I'lir managed to stay perfectly still as his nose was straightened.  It helped that everything was still rather dull, he could hardly feel the pain.  Excellent!  A young rider must endeavor to never lose his composure, "My thanks.  I assure you I am quite alright, thanks to your most excellent administrations.  My appearance is of little enough concern, not to worry.  Now then, may I be dismissed to resume my duties?  I do believe I had some hidework to attend to..."

((Uh, I'lir, you handed that in this morning,)) Belpheroth projected to both I'lir and the healer.  Talking to other people felt odd, wrong, but he didn't want I'lir to die or anything...

"Oh, did I?  Right then.  Through my nose, you said?  How will that aid the healing process?  Will the air allow my nose to more rapidly resume its accustomed form?"

 "Excuse me, Journeyman," he said to Sh'an, "but you may have already noticed. Luna tells me that Belpheroth thinks I'lir feels muddled on the inside. He says he shouldn't go to sleep. Maybe he has a concussion?" he ventured. He was not an experienced healer, though he had the basics of it down now that he had been an apprentice for some time since Luna's injury. While dragons and men did not often share similar injuries, he still knew what a concussion was.

Journeyman. Someone called him a Journeyman! Sh'an practically swooned, that was, until E'lis mentioned a 'concussion.' That was serious. And fascinating. "Uh-oh, thanks," he said, turning to lean in close to I'lir again. 

"I'lir, tell me exactly how you're feeling right now. Do you feel nauseous at all? Any ringing in your ears? Can you close your eyes for a few seconds then open them wide for me?" 

"Nauseous...no, I don't believe I am," I'lir began, taking stock of his injuries.  Huh, perhaps he did feel a bit woozy...although his ears weren't ringing, everything was just oddly quiet was all.  He most certainly did not have a concussion.  He was a rider, a weyrborn rider.  Weyrborn riders did not suffer from concussions.  He did, however, oblige the Healer, shutting his eyes momentarily, "Like so?"

Opening his eyes, I'lir blinked away spots of black.  He was merely rattled was all, perfectly fine.  The true object of concern was Belpheroth, who had taken quite a nasty fall, "Belpheroth, please blink for the Healers.  You ought to be checked for a concussion as well."

((Do I have to?))

[[Yes.]]

"Alright now, Belpheroth, I'lir, I'm going to start sewing up your wound. I've numbed it with numbweed, so it shouldn't hurt too much, but you will feel some pain and likely pressure in the area while I work. If anything hurts too much, tell me, preferably not by biting me. I'll put on more numbweed before I go on working, if that should happen." Warning given, Xaevir began his work, threading one needlethorn and starting at the top of the wound, keeping the edges of skin together and not pulling too tightly, to avoid puckering and therefore a scar that might tear and crack open in future.

((I'lir, please tell Xaevir I do not bite.))

[[Of course you don't.  You are a perfectly civil young dragon.]]

((Ow!  Hey!  That hurts more than the fall did!  Can you make him stop?]]

[[No I cannot.  It is essential for the proper progression of your Healing.  You wish to fly, don't you?]]

((Yes I'lir.))

"Master Xaevir, my thanks for responding so rapidly to our summons.  We are most pleased to have a Healer as eminent and skilled as yourself attending to Lord Belpheroth.  He has requested that I inform you he is well aware of the typical conventions and well in control of his emotions.  He shall not harm you."

--

[Arielle]

Xaevir managed a grin for the dragon and boy while he worked, his hands steady as rocks. "Oh, I'm sure he's perfectly civil and well behaved. But having had a few injuries like this myself, I must admit even I was tempted to do bodily harm to the healers fixing me up at the time." He smeared a little more numbweed over the stitches he'd already done, to ease the pain and stop any additional bleeding.

The mention of a concussion was a good point though, so he spoke to E'lis next. "Check his sight and such for any possible concussion when you're done with his scrapes. I don't think he'll have one, but just in case, better safe than sorry with a dragonet this young."

[Aaron C.]

On Thu, Apr 11, 2013 at 9:01 PM, Arielle <wildma...@gmail.com> wrote:

Xaevir managed a grin for the dragon and boy while he worked, his hands steady as rocks. "Oh, I'm sure he's perfectly civil and well behaved. But having had a few injuries like this myself, I must admit even I was tempted to do bodily harm to the healers fixing me up at the time." He smeared a little more numbweed over the stitches he'd already done, to ease the pain and stop any additional bleeding.

The mention of a concussion was a good point though, so he spoke to E'lis next. "Check his sight and such for any possible concussion when you're done with his scrapes. I don't think he'll have one, but just in case, better safe than sorry with a dragonet this young."

   E'lis nodded and looked into Belpheroth's eyes for any sign of gray and then asked through Lunakath for Belpheroth to tell him how many fingers he was holding up.

(OOC: Sorry, on this one, I'm not sure exactly how to make sure a dragon doesn't have a concussion. XD)

[Allison Herzig]

"He has a most admirably placid disposition," I'lir agreed, "Don't you, Belpheroth?"

((Uh...I don't know if placid's the word I'd use.  More like daring and noble and heroic and brave and tough and strong...Shards that's cold!  How much longer do I have to sit here? Can he stop soon?))

[[I assure you Master Healer Xaevir is perfectly competent.]]

"Master Healer Xaevir, ought your ministrations be causing Belpheroth additional discomfort?" I'lir wasn't particularly fond of presumption, saw no harm in raising the question.  If Master Xaevir was unaware of the problem, he could hardly seek to mend it now, could he?

   E'lis nodded and looked into Belpheroth's eyes for any sign of gray and then asked through Lunakath for Belpheroth to tell him how many fingers he was holding up.

((...He's holding up three.  I can count, I'm not newly hatched.  So do I have a concussion?  If I have a concussion, can I get a prize or something?  Hey, it didn't even hurt there before!))

--

[Arielle]

Xaevir didn't look up from his delicate work, but answered the questions posed to him. "Yes, there should be some discomfort from the stitches. It'll get better once I've finished them all. As long as Belpheroth's not in twice as much agony as he was when I started we should be alright, though I can add some more numbweed if he'd like."