Logs:First and Last Aid
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| RL Date: 26 July, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Ka'ge, Taeliyth, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tempting fate takes a sharp left into unpleasantness and ends in confusion. |
| Where: Weyrling Classroom, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 5, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Celestra/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Nasci/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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>---< Weyrling Classroom, Fort Weyr >----------------------------------------<
This cavern could easily house up to sixty weyrlings at a time, with
desk-space provided in neat rows for academic lessons and classes taught
by both the weyrlingmasters themselves and the Weyr's posted Harpers.
Heavy tapestries line the walls, depicting wings of dragons fighting
Thread, perhaps to serve as a reminder of the ultimate task and skills
that must be passed down the generations. At the head of the room is a
sturdy desk for the instructor, beside which is a tall filing cabinet from
which writing materials can be claimed and distributed. A chalkboard has
been hung against the wall in full view of the rows of desks before it. At
the back of the room, there is also a sandtable and space for storing wax
tablets and important texts.
At first glance, it looks like a wooden screen has been set against the
wall in the last third of the room, but closer inspection reveals that
this heavy screen is set on small wheels and can be folded and drawn back
to reveal a hidden feature of the classroom. After more than a month of the weyrlingmaster staff 'helpfully' heading off additional contact between Ka'ge and the displaced Dee who moved in sevens past from her mid-way place in the barracks to as far from the bronze pair as was possible, the task of watching over Nasci distracted the staff supporting the first aid class enough that Dee was able to take her practice bandage purposefully toward Ka'ge. "Partner?" She asks, hazel eyes holding much more than the term in context. She hasn't tried to get around the staff's instructions since the lecture she received, but perhaps enough time has passed that she feels entitled to speaking to him in public again. Ka'ge leans back slouched against Zymadiath instead of facing him, legs outstretched in front of him crossed mid-calf, a roll of heavy-woven bandaging material being played with between his hands. He seems enthralled enough, or not, by this entire scenario that he has his hood pulled down as far as possible such that he would look like he was asleep if he wasn't fiddling with the bandage roll. Dee's voice seems to change the tone of that, the playing stopped for sake of a hand raising to draw the hood back enough that he can look up at her. It's fairly apparent he doesn't care about the past month's limitations carrying over into today since, instead of immediately answering her, he gestures beside himself as an invitation. Visible expression had gone from a bored 'nothing' to a subtle, maybe even non-sarcastic smile for her. Rather than sitting beside him, Dee slides onto her knees, facing him, a glance back toward the other pairs already engaging in the hands-on practice. Her eyes linger on Nasci where she's paired with one of the assistants before coming back to her own partner. "Start with the arm?" She inquires as if this is going to be just any other exercise. Only when she reaches for his arm her fingers seek to brush lightly across his palm on their way to his sleeve, aiming to roll it up so she can better bandage him. "I haven't been able to speak to Nasci," is quiet. "One of the greenriders said she'd been upset recently--" which surely Ka'ge already knew. "Maybe I should go to her." Not Nasci, her, but Lilah. The Scary Her. Ka'ge watches her for another wordless moment or two, and then draws his legs towards himself to sit cross-legged and lean much more close than before. Although his fingers curl when her fingers brush against his arm, it's likely due to the concept of pulling his sleeve up than the touch itself. He gives up his arm willingly beyond that subtle thing, though his gaze remains on her face more than on what she's doing. It's been awhile since they'd been this close and he seems intent on observing over interrupting. "She has." Leaning forward is two-toned in purpose, as is most of what he does, as it allows him to speak quieter, "And I'm sure it's related." To exactly what she thinks it is, "Haven't been able to follow her." As if such things are expected of him, though he seems a little put-off that he hadn't been able to. He seems to decide better of his willingness of before, and reaches to take her wrist lightly. "How about I try a sling?" The 'nice' smile draws into something more at that. "Alright," Dee is as agreeable and bodily pliant as anyone would expect her to be. This is a lesson, they're learning things, practice is what they're here for. Nevermind there's the subtlest tilt of her chin like she might be baring her neck to him. It's the gesture of one whose long hair is still remembered though the shaggy crop doesn't present an issue in drawing a sling into place. "I haven't spoken to the harper yet," is quietly apologetic, almost abashed. "Every time I've been to find her, there are people about." It's held things up, understandably. She doesn't seem to think much of him following or not following or expectations therein. Ka'ge shifts his weight a little more, taking her arm that had at once been exploring his in both his gloved hands. The type of sling he pursues is much more complex than the simple kind that should just be under an arm, crossed and behind the neck. No, it seems he's doing a splinted sling for either a wrist or clavicle fracture which requires considerably more contact and time. He picks up a small piece of wood that had been set beside him by the assistant weyrlingmasters prior to the class beginning, laying her forearm and palm across it such that her elbow is at one end, her fingers across the other. His hand lingers where her fingers are, holding them, wrapping them slowly around the edge of the wood as his other hand begins wrapping the bandaging over her arm to fix it there. At this point, there's only a couple of feet between them, but beyond knowing who they are, the closeness can't easily be questioned by glance considering the topic of their practice. "You need to." He says simply with an unpleasant seriousness to it, even if his eyes are not on his work but on her neck, slower to return to her face. "Don't go to her," Lilah, that is, "without her." There's a tighter squeeze of her fingers, "It's our best-" only? "chance. I told her we could call her by firelizard at any time. You can request a private meeting without being seen doing so." "I might not get a choice," Dee answers, her eyes following the movement of his hand, and the way it lingers. She's obviously just learning the technique as he's showing it to her. "If she calls, I can't not answer. I'll try, but you know they're watching," the weyrlingmasters, for probably more than one reason. Dee is no expert in evading watchful eyes the way Ka'ge is. "You're good at this," the girl observes before seeking his eyes. "Practice?" She asks with genuinely innocent curiosity. It's sweet she still wants to know more about him, isn't it? "You need her, Dee. I can't be there, so someone else needs to talk for you. You're too..." Ka'ge stops himself, taking a breath as the unpleasant if necessary conversation darkens what would be an overdue and highly desired interaction. There's a little tighter pressure of her fingers as he forgets himself, forgets to be 'gentle' for a beat of time, before he consciously lightens the grip again. His blue-green eyes flick up to meet hers, "Please." He can only ask. Hasn't he done all he could to protect her? His other hand continues to deftly wrap her arm, making it to her elbow, and slowly winds back for a second layer. The hand holding her fingers release completely at that, and moves to touch her other arm to raise it away from her torso. All those motions are made quietly, deliberately, and not quite so impersonally as it's supposed to be. "Out of necessity." Is all she gets for the latter question, but at least she got something. Dee jerks when he suggests someone needs to talk for her. Hazel eyes narrow slightly in confusion and rejection of the idea. She doesn't jerk away, but her body has a visceral reaction to his words. She doesn't raise her arm, not yet. She's caught up looking at him. "Is that really what you think?" There's already hurt and accusation in her eyes for thinking he thinks so, and Zymadiath is treated to Taeliyth's sudden and hard presence, like petrified wood though nowhere near as brittle. Her mental presence is so still and so stalwart in her silent but equal rejection of Ka'ge's idea. There's warning there, but warning from her, not Dee. The topic of his life experience is left by the wayside, as he no doubt prefers. "Am I wrong?" Ka'ge asks, his hand hesitating on her other arm, barely touching it. "Your guilt won't get the better of you, you won't blame yourself in twenty different ways and martyr yourself into exile?" He's a little harsh in this, but his tone is otherwise difficult to read considering he's so torn in having to talk about this in the middle of this 'practice.' "I'm trying to keep you in this Weyr." Trying, tried. His jaw sets a little, and then he relinquishes his touch on her arms, to set his hands in his lap, though the remainder of the bandage material that's wound around her splinted wrist remains held. The shadows to which the stone-like wood so rapidly becomes apparent seem disconnected, unconcerned, uninvolved. The black rorschach figments ebb and flow, change and unchange, form and unform. But Zymadiath himself doesn't seem to bend or respond to that warning. "Yes!" The single word is vehement if quiet. "Even if I did try to martyr myself into exile, Taeliyth would never let me. Nothing and noone can stop me from feeling as I do, but Faranth, if you think I'm so weak as to need someone to speak for me--" Dee directs her eyes away and up, wholeheartedly ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes. Taeliyth's agitation flares and though her mood may go unheeded by the bronze, it doesn't by the assistant's dragon. The assistant breaks off his practice with Nasci and makes his way toward the two, arm still wrapped in gauzy white. "No." Ka'ge interrupts, both to her words and the tears. At the same time, Zymadiath's shadows become heavy, overhanging, eclipsing of the forest of the gold's mind. It's an invasion he's never pushed before, but hints of the power of his mind, « You give them no time to talk. » It's a reprimand to her flaring mood summoning intervention, an annoyance for the necessary interaction that's surely about to be cut-short. "There's a reason people use harpers in delicate situations." His harsh voice lowers further for the sake of someone approaching. "Really, Dee." The disappointment is heavy, and his frown could almost legitimately be counted as upset, not at her, not at her ability or inability to speak for herself, but for the now. He sets the wrap down on the floor between them and shifts his weight back so that when the assistant does arrive, it's nothing so obviously wrong except that they're sitting together. A hand even raises to place thumb and forefinger on his hood, tugging it down in his now surely very-familiar motion of discomfort and displeasure. "That," Dee snaps her eyes back to him, something hard showing in her expression that perhaps he's only seen before when she was determined to get his help on this foolhardy quest to begin with, "is not what you said." Her hands are swift to move to begin unwrapping the progress he'd made until she's free. "Everything okay here?" is the mild but pointed question from the assistant, whose brows are raised with the concern he must feel warranted given the queen's continued agitation. Zymadiath? He can go bury his head in porcine excrement and enjoy the smell for all she cares. « Stop underestimating her. Us. You'll regret it if you continue down this path. » "She didn't like my splint style." Ka'ge lies from beneath his hood to the assistant, as he's already leaned back against Zymadiath's shoulder. His arms folded, his voice low, a bit muffled even, but neutral. He'd no longer look at either of them. The young bronze's eyes continue to whirl none but sated, controlled hues and speeds. His mind remains specifically tuned to Taeliyth's alone, ungiving of anything to the adult dragons so-carefully monitoring their emotions. « You want to throw her into the thing she's worried about the most, alone? Even with you, there is much that can go wrong. She is inexperienced, not underestimated. He's put aside his selfishness to work with something he deems horrendous for her sake. She asked for help, he delivered it. » Multiple times, he implies, « Yet you both scorn him for it. » The shadows are nightmarish, the usually soft curve of the faded edges sharper, more distinct, though their tempo never changes. « If you wish to scorn him, do so. But have her not make him so pleased with her presence as she did today. » The overwhelming darkness recedes slightly after all that, the shadows lingering back on the mind's horizon. "I need to go to the infirmary," Dee tells the assistant, whose eyes go from one to the other, brows raised in a dubious fashion. The fact that Dee (Dee) has a snap of temper that has her saying, "I can be sick on your boots if you like, sir," speaks volumes for her emotional frame of mind. It does get results, if perhaps not fully the kind she intended. "Weyrling Ka'ge," he addresses the boy, "Escort Weyrling Dee to the infirmary and you can both run extra laps in the morning." At least this much is delivered cheerfully as he steps out of the danger zone for his boots. Dee, briefly, looks fit to be tied, her mouth opening to argue, but snapping it shut before she has a chance. Instead, she simply turns to start walking. Taeliyth doesn't move immediately, her orange-flecked gaze lingering on Zymadiath. « She's not worried about speaking to Lilah, » is firm and ticked off as some item at the start of a list. « You haven't been paying attention if you think that's the kind of thing she worries about. » Then, next item, « This time, he went for the heart; somewhat more vital and more readily bruised than the hand, » as she supposes he probably knows. « It isn't always weakness to ask for help, particularly when one is out of their depth, but do not assume that she is weak because she asked, » and then the afterthought, « Or for any other reason. It's a serious mistake and I thought you both cleverer. » Only after that does she move to follow her lifemate with a put-upon, « Come on. She's not going to be sick. She's just mad and hurt. » Teenagers. "Sir." is dry, mocking of the formality, but fortunately not quite curled by the sneer he likely holds under the safety of that hood of his. Not that it would save him from a bonus extra lap in the morning, surely. Ka'ge slides his feet up under himself and rises with that cat-like silent grace he tends to show when he's not thinking about it. As he follows Dee out of the weyrling complex, it's slouched, head dropped down and hands shoved as deeply into his pockets as they could likely go. The shadows sigh, the feeling of ghostly whisperings and murmurings hushed and distant. « You haven't been paying attention. » The night's harsh, low voice doesn't seem too much more annoyed than is normal, aside from the fact he's taken on the tediousness of explaining himself further. « Neither he nor I ever said or implied 'weak'. » A mental pause follows as the physical darkling bronze rises as his rider does, taking on a conversation with him briefly in the inbetween before returning to Taeliyth, « Mine would dislike her if she were such. And clearly, he does not. » The writhing figments consider continuing, but decide against it, sharing little more than their presence. « Haven't I? » Taeliyth's dubious challenge would be issued even if she felt that she hadn't been. She won't be showing any weakness just now. « Perhaps that's something he should explain to her. » It's suggested with some of her familiar tartness. « The why he likes her part. » It's, arguably, not exactly what Zymadiath said, but twisting words is one of the things Taeliyth does as routine, if it gets her what she wants. Dee slows only once they're well into the bowl, toward the infirmary then stops, turns and gives him a hurt look. "Why would you say that, Kael?" "What, the truth? I try to make a habit not to." Ka'ge replies unpleasantly, not lifting his head to look at her as she stops in front of him, forcing him to come to a pause as well. There's a long period where he falls into an angry, eerie silence- that boy in patchy black-greys with a masked face and a looming dark shadow of a bronze behind him. "I did what you asked of me." He starts, his tone particularly level, controlled, "You're in something deeper than you should have ever been. Shit I told you not to do. I don't know how you're suddenly the master of getting out of it, but when I went through all this.." trouble, "You needed the help. I'll make sure to stay out of your way, weyrwoman." Although the shadows are finished humoring the gold dragonet, there's a trickle of red amidst his facets. Another private exchange. Gnarled shadows, twisting, writhing, nigh vile in their unpredictable creation and destruction of ghastly things envelope Ka'ge's consciousness, the suffocating thing of being fully, unquestionably drowned to the soul in Zymadiath's darkness. « You pick a pointless battle. They will not understand us. They can't, for we do not let them. You must give her what she wants, or you will lose her. » (To Ka'ge from Zymadiath) In consequence, after an uncomfortably irritable pause, the boy reluctantly gives, "I never considered you weak, Dee. I did what I did because I wanted to." And, with even more difficulty, muttered, "for you." The look Dee gives Ka'ge in the silence is disappointed, her hands finding her hips, though only lightly. She's waiting. When he finally continues, her hands fall away with a sigh. She looks only unhappy in the face of his rebuke. "I'm not an expert," she refutes his opinion of her opinion. "But I'm not weak or stupid or-- shells, Kael, I have every reason to be terrified, and I am," her eyes show him in that moment before something asserts itself in her expression, something that is the strength she's arguing for. "I can't control my nightmares, but I can control my actions. I have wanted to break and tell so many times, but I'm waiting, for the right time, for the right situation, so that I can at least protect the people I care about." She swallows hard, but doesn't look away: she means him. She means them, too, but she means him. "Are you going to be this way every time I do something-- am something you don't like?" This is nearly defeated, and yet she doesn't say what should come next, she doesn't suggest they should part ways now and save themselves the trouble. Ka'ge listens, yet remains unwilling to show his face, unwilling to move such that he may as well be made of stone in his patchy bland hues. Whether or not he agrees or disagrees with any of what she says remains untold, for he chooses only the last to respond to, "Will you be this way whenever you have to ask me for help?" Slightly deflated, that seems, against his usually iron-wrought confidence, "There's nothing that you are that I don't like." "Have I been this way when I've asked you for help?" Dee counters, turning the question back on him, perhaps pointing out the answer. "You-" Exasperated, but cut off. There's a low rumbling sound behind him, though nothing about Zymadiath moves to support the fact that it was him who made it. Not quite a growl, yet not exactly a pleasant thing. The substance within the pitch night that makes up the very basis of Zymadiath's mind is not kind, not soft, not gentle, « You seek gratitude? » He scoffs in disgusted amusement, « You know well such a thing doesn't exist for what you do in the shadows. We do not get gratitude. We do not need it. » The oppressive darkness swirls, consumes, « Now be quiet. You speak when you should listen. » (To Ka'ge from Zymadiath) An unseen jaw clenches, Ka'ge takes a breath. "What do you want me to say?" "Just--" Dee might not know. Only in the next moment, she does and with a sigh she steps toward him, to close some of the distance, though not enough to be suspect by any onlookers. "Just tell me you have faith in me. That I can do this." Taeliyth is watching, silent but watching with great intensity. "If you were anyone else, I would be happy to lie to you." Ka'ge turns his covered face away as she takes a step closer, "But I don't share your positivity." The hurt shows. Dee turns away, but rather than go, she steps toward Taeliyth, who shifts to accept the open palms pressing against her chest. « He's an idiot, Dee, » Taeliyth's displeasure with Ka'ge's current course is obvious, her touch trying to maintain the casual, even as her protective instincts flare. « I believe in you. I chose you. » She might still harbor doubts, and may for the whole of her life, but she's not going to let a petty little thing like truth get in the way of fixing what Ka'ge has broken in her lifemate's heart. (To Dee from Taeliyth) Dee looks up, startled. She might think to step back so she can see Taeliyth's face, but instead she shifts so she can press herself bodily against the dragon - a hug. The gold might tense, but she doesn't reject the touch. A gloved hand raises to rub the back of his neck, the fabric there wrinkling, rustling quietly before he lets the gloved hand fall back to his side. Ka'ge tilts his head enough that blue-green eyes can watch the moment between the girl and her dragon, though his overly-practiced pokerface remains religiously guarded. He won't take back what he said; surely she couldn't prefer more lies. He takes a step forward as if to take Dee in a hug himself, his hands even rising to almost hip-level before he thinks better of it. The gesture between girl and gold doesn't last long. Dee whirls back toward him abruptly. "You're wrong, Kael." There, honesty for honesty. "You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it to you." This clearly won't end with Dee doing anything stupid. Clearly. "There's nothing to prove." Ka'ge responds quietly, unhurriedly, but with necessity of clarification. "It's not that I doubt your determination.. I just.. don't.." He fails at finding the word, likely more for desire of evading argument than not knowing what to say, and just seems to let it fade at that. The feeling that he's said too much weighs heavily on him, causing an uneasy discomfort that finds him picking at the edges of his gloves instead of watching her. One of those few quirks that at some level demonstrate his social shortcomings. "I will never be what you want me to be. I warned you a long time ago." Lower in volume, almost said to himself rather than her as he speaks downwards to his gloves. "You don't what?" Dee asks when all is said. "You don't know how to believe in someone? To give someone your faith?" "You know my answer." Ka'ge's gaze lifts to study her expression, imploring in the look he gives to let it go. "Oh, Kael," is soft and sad. Dee shakes her head before she looks away. Perhaps she heeds his look, or maybe she has her own reasons for turning toward the infirmary. "You don't have to go with me," she volunteers once she's gone a few paces, without turning back. "May I," Ka'ge trails her offer of dismissal as she turns away from him, his voice slightly edged with a halfhearted attempt at humor, "if I don't speak?" That might, might even be more to her dragon than to her, but he's already following her with or without permission, if a few long steps behind. « Does he think his ability to be annoying is diminished in silence? » Taeliyth quips back to the bronze, dryly, glancing back toward the dragon and his lifemate. Dee half-turns back toward him, stopping again. "I thought-- you wouldn't want to," she tells him awkwardly; she must have thought she was releasing him from some unpleasant obligation. « No, but he will be able to listen better if he isn't actively digging himself deeper into trouble with her. » The shadows must be amused by this, if only a minimal degree, given the hint of phantasmic grins on figments which allude to faces with eyeless sockets, that soon melt away into the rest of the blackness. Zymadiath follows, stalking as is his normal gait, with overly heavy wings almost but not quite dragging beside and behind him bat-like, cape-like. Ka'ge shrugs his shoulders heavily, letting the layered fabrics that lay across them and his head rustle quietly, his expression untelling of his opinion of the matter. He jogs an extra step to decrease those few paces separating them to just one or so, hands shoved into pockets and gaze directed down at the ground in front of them instead of at her directly. But, this time, doesn't stop when she does, continuing on towards the infirmary, expecting her to do so as well. She does, after a look to Taeliyth which leaves Dee looking discontented and puzzled. Still, arms curl protectively over her middle, shoulders hunch a touch, and she trudges after him. |
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