Logs:Disappointments in Delirium
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| RL Date: 15 November, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, Ka'ge |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ka'ge briefly visits plagued Dee. She's not especially lucid. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: J'zen/Mentions, R'oan/Mentions |
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>---< Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr(#241RJs$) >--------------------------------<
This central cavern is roughly oval in shape and large enough to
accommodate two or three smaller dragons if need be. Its white-washed
walls hold several outcroppings for glows, focused around the main counter
at the left of the room and the two beds set far enough apart for dragons
to settle into the wallow-like dips between them. Equipment is stored in
the locked cabinets behind the counter and the glass-covered shelving
units carved into the wall, wide and deep enough to hold the necessary
quantities to treat injuries of a larger scale. which is well stocked for
the treatment of dragon injuries and spacious enough to accommodate the
smaller dragons.
Several ground weyrs that face out onto the Bowl link into this hub,
dedicated to the treatment of larger dragons or long-term care. A short
passageway, blocked by a heavy curtain, leads into the Infirmary while a
set of wide, double doors lead out into the Bowl and are rarely locked, in
case of emergency. She's always restless. Sometimes, as she sleeps, she keeps her hand on R'oan's in the next cot over. It can't be comfortable, little of this dying process ever is. Tonight, Dee is rolled on her side, facing away from the sleeping brownrider. Sweat bead on her forehead and she gasps awake, body suddenly shaking. She might be back in weyrlinghood, waking from yet another nightmare, only now she's in the dragon infirmary, plagued, waking from one nightmare into the next. It'd been five days that he'd been visiting her, but only once per day. The first day, he only looked at her from afar, standing in a corner of the infirmary as minutes passed him. The second, the same except of an even more brief occasion. The third he made it to her bedside. And yesterday, today, he'd stayed at her side just long enough to touch her feverish hand, to look over her and listen if her delirium gave her speech. He never sat, he never stayed. Ka'ge handled death differently. He typically didn't watch it happen when he wasn't in control. His hood is drawn as far over his face as it will go, his head tipped down to see her. Blue-green eyes are too-calm, his expression blank for what could be seen in that dark hole the hood creates. When she gasps awake, it would be with the young bronzerider paused with a clean off-white rag poised over her head, prepared to blot away the sweat there. She's wan. This illness steals beauty, vibrancy and life. Dee hasn't lost all of any but there aren't hands to spare as regularly as might be desired to sponge sweaty flesh. The smell in the infirmaries, on the whole, is unpleasant. Who can say how fragrant Dee herself is, though she seems marginally better tended than others. Her hazel gaze wildly searches. "Jem?" is a frightened question, "Jem?" She reaches for Ka'ge; he's there. Those eyes don't change as she calls the wrong name. Should he be hurt by it, he unsurprisingly hides it well. Ka'ge takes a breath, and then allows her the free hand to take even if potentially under a different hope. The rag continues its course, however, to wipe over her face, gently dabbing the contours of the face that is certainly not as it should be. "K-" He starts, catches, and changes, "Kaelige." Tastes unfamiliar now to his tongue, but more appropriate, as he gives his name with the hesitancy of hoping for its acceptability. "Kael," comes with a sigh. It's brief relief before anxiety takes hold once more. "Jem is gone, isn't he." Not really a question. "He left me. I didn't change so much, did I? Not so much," Dee begs it to be true even though it isn't. "Kael?" Is he still there? She's squinting at him now, uncertain, perhaps not dating to trust her eyes. There's an overly gentle squeeze of her hand to give her an affirmative of her recognition. And then to her questions, "The lazy bastard, just took all his sunshine back to Southern. Favored it as much as you did, he just went-" Ka'ge draws the cloth across her hairline, moving the stray hairs from her face, "Home. He'll always be your brother." His words are unhurried, unconcerned, and whispered, but not particularly soft. Comfort is not a strength of his, but maybe it ensures his presence all the better with that bluntness. "I'm here." Reaffirmed at her request. "Oh," is confused. Something about the bronzerider's words don't jibe with whatever's going on in Dee's delirious mind, but she doesn't have the presence of mind to challenge him. "Sometimes you go." She explains her worry, "Sometimes when I try to find you, you're not here," then, with a little nearly winsome smile, "but you are now," and that's apparently good. "I miss you when you're gone." One might wonder whether Dee is speaking to Kaelige or if she's thinking Kael is Jem and that Jem is gone, but here now, but one could also just take the win. Ka'ge listens, eventually setting aside the cloth to simply stroke her hair. Even, slowly, a gentle repetition despite the hollow, devoid look he carries. "I only go because I must." He answers, perhaps only as a continued reminder he's there and not so much for information. "You only need to call for me and I'd..." He trails off, a huff of a fake laugh escaping in his breath, a bare, brief glance sent beyond her to the cots nearby before returning, "Are they taking good care of you?" Dee stares blankly up at him. It's hard to say how much of what he says is actually getting taken in and processed. The last question brings a puzzled look, "Are who?" "Healers. Food? water? Clean?" Calm, maybe too calm, maybe too familiar?, he adds each subsequent word with a pause for processing. The confusion lingers, then there's an 'ah-ha' of clarity as the same moment as Taeliyth shifts, uncomfortably, behind them. "I'm sick," Dee tells Kael, as if it were a new revelation. Then in a tone that is distinctly more fearful and childish, "I don't feel good. Will you tell me a story?" "You are very sick." Ka'ge gives his unnecessary agreement, turning attention from her face to look over her once. The hand of hers that he's holding is given a small squeeze and then relents its pressure as if with intent to withdraw, "No." Is a strangely set response, no more harsh than kind. "You need rest. I'll be back again tomorrow." "You're going?" is sad, so sad, but at least that distracts the goldrider from his 'no.' Dee's brows furrow. "R'oan is here," is an abrupt re-revelation. Then, of course, comes the instinctive attempt to turn, to find proof of him in the cot next to hers. A pause, "It's my fault." Ka'ge straightens to create a little space from her, though his head remains tilted forwards just-so. To look up into his shadowed face may catch the slightest of narrowing of eyes, but he counts her too sick to tag it. "I know he is." What doesn't he know? "Most likely." It's truthful, with no silver tongue to deliver it and left at no more than that. "Be strong, Dee." And another step back is taken, out of reach but not yet turned. Tears well in Dahlia's eyes. Truth is hard. It's not wrong, but it still makes her weep. Another step back, and with a silent sigh that gently heaves his chest and shoulders, he turns with his head ducked further still. With no further words to share, he moves to leave, bumping the arm of an healer apprentice stepping away from a different cot who managed to be just a bit in his way. He mutters something gruff that sounds anything but an apology, and shortly vanishes around the corner. |
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