Logs:Treatment for Shock
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 18 October, 2014 |
| Who: Lycinea, V'ros |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lya tries to help take care of a shellshocked V'ros. It's very weird, but thankfully neither of them realize that. |
| Where: Living Cavern, Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated to immediately following The Storm. |
  |
| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
Lycinea was probably doing more than she is now when they were still preparing; after all, someone had to build up those fires, didn't they? But now that the thing they've prepared for is here, with so many figures trying to warm, she's tasked with carrying two things, a pitcher of klah and dry shirts. She's down to only a few of the latter as getting people out of wet clothes was made a priority to avoid hypothermia. So it happens that Lya passes near and doubles back, having added an empty mug to her collection of items, which she fills silently after setting the shirts on the table beside V'ros. She settles next to him, close though not touching and moves with the intention of pressing the warm mug into his hands. There's no greeting, no words just now, and perhaps unsurprisingly no attitude; she's as shocked as anyone. Silence is appreciated. Words would be complicated and superficial, when there's really nothing to say in the wake of this disastrous night. V'ros doesn't bother looking at Lycinea. He's busy staring at that one spot on the floor that looks like every other inch of the living cavern's floor. His body only moves to inhale and exhale breath, his hands unmoving beneath the blanket. Minutes pass without answer, without accepting the mug the blonde is trying to get him to take. "She's gone," he says, in a barely-there-whisper, out loud; it's not definite if he's saying it to her, or just voicing his concerns out loud. Lycinea stops trying to push the mug into his hands after a few moments. She knows you can only lead a mule to water. Though if ever there were a moment to be a mule... His words have her sucking in her lower lip and looking at him, brow creasing with worry. The gossip has already gone everywhere, hasn't it? At least here. She gets up without a word and leaves the klah on the table in order to reclaim the remaining pair of shirts which she moves to hand out. Her duty thusly discharged, she comes back to the weyrling, one hand taking the mug and the other seeking one of his hands (she'll come under the blanket to get it, too!). "She is." She says in answer to his words from before. "But you're not. Come with me." To hear someone else say the words, to be slapped with the reality again, has V'ros grimacing with genuine pain. He doesn't stop her from grabbing his hand, doesn't seem up to par with his usual hesitancy; his actions are simply in following the kitchen aide's own. Brown eyes finally lift, clouded with worry and agony, but he rises without resistance and stands there, huddled under the blanket, waiting the next instructions. Someone unsavory could take advantage of the weyrling's numbed consciousness now and use it to their liking, but here's to hoping Lycinea isn't that malicious. Is Lya that malicious? It's a valid question. She's certainly leading V'ros off, away from the roaring fires, and into the cooler tunnels of the weyr, but it isn't so far to where they're going. She stays silent, one hand on him, pulling, the other carefully managing the klah mug. It's to the steamy cavern that is the weyr's baths that she takes him.
Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup. The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
No disagreement rises from the weyrling's lips as they move from cavern to cavern. V'ros plods along behind her, seemingly unseeing, the occasional shiver moving through his whole body. His disorientation comes to a head when they enter the baths. Brows furrow over confused brown eyes. "Why.." He stare, unconvinced, at least until she unwraps his blanket and holds it up. Too weary to argue, too numb to fight, all he can do is follow instruction with stilted movements. He disrobes quietly and slips into the warmth water, wrapping his arms around himself, and it's only then that the shivering becomes more pronounced; minutes later, thawed by the baths, it stops, but his eyes have yet to clear. "Because you're cold." It's simple. Once she hears him enter the pool, she folds the now damp blanket. "Don't drown," is the simple instruction she gives him as she sets the klah on the edge of the pool before heading back the way she came. Does it need to be said that those in the Tillek sea have that method of dying well in hand? She returns some minutes later with a fresh set of clothes and a new, dry blanket, to tuck into the cubbies before she's stepping out of her own work boots and bending to roll up her trouser legs, splitting a seam as she forces them up over the curve of her calf; they'll need a new patch. She walks carefully to the edge of the pool and sits on the ledge near him, just her legs entering the rejuvenating heat of the water. Drowning now, in the baths, instead of in the storm earlier would be the greatest irony. But even V'ros, as out of it as he is, stays where the water is up to his waist. Others with similar intent are lingering in the pools too, and the overall effect of the cavern is hushed; a kind of reverence for the lives lost, not least of all their own weyrwoman. It's when Lycinea returns with fresh supplies that he's jolted into action, sinking up to his shoulders, to further chase the chill away. He stays near the edge of the pool, his pale skin regaining some color the more time that passes. Lycinea is quiet for a few moments before she shifts her legs in the water, making the water make a sound. It's like it gives her some outside permission to make her own. "You should drink the klah, V'ros. It will help." Will it? She doesn't sound entirely certain, but they were saying so in the living cavern; perhaps it's the kind of thing she has to believe so that she can believe something, anything could. Another moment later, she asks quietly, "Are you okay?" Because it isn't obvious or anything that he's so very not. V'ros' eyes lift to Lycinea; they lack their usual zeal. "I I don't know," he says in a low voice. Unable to retain his attention on the blonde for more than that, his gaze slips away again, darting around the cavern in a frenzied state; it's then that he presses his fingers against his eyelids, blocking everything out.. everything he can see anyway, as there's still sounds and feelings to sort through. "People died. She died. How can.." His exhale is the start of a ragged sob, his hands balling into fists on the sides of his head. Lycinea's voice comes quietly, almost meekly. "People die." It's an unfortunate fact of life. "Worse when you don't expect them to." She chews her lower lip, not looking at the brownrider. "I'm sorry. I'm not helping. I'll go." She's shifting, starting to pull her legs out of the water. It's not hard to guess that this teen isn't any more experienced with loss than the other. V'ros struggles to get ahold of his emotions - evidenced by the ragged inhale and cracked voice when he replies. "They don't have to die.. like that." He doesn't say what that is, but his eyes, full of sadness, fly to the departing blonde. "Don't." Lycinea freezes when the last word is spoken. Her legs drip water onto the already wet stone, and she is motionless a moment before she shifts to let them resume their place in the water. She meets his gaze. "We don't get to choose. It would be nice if we did, but we don't get to choose. Not where. Not when. Not how." Her blue-green gaze falls to the surface of the water and her shoulders hunch forward. Silence follows Lycinea's answer, and a hard swallow. "No." V'ros runs shaky fingers through his hair, making it stand on end, and shifts to stare pensively at the cubbies - so far away - where the towels and fresh clothing are. He starts moving to the edge, his intention clear; despite his plea, if she wanted to get out, about now would be the time. Her brows furrow and briefly there's a flash of the familiar Lya - annoyance with his 'don't go' and now 'get out' decisions. "Stay," she directs as her legs come out again. "I'll get you a towel." Because just now, even if she is annoyed with him, just a little, she's not the one who was out there, with all those dying people. She at least has the sense to know that she doesn't know what he's going through, and knowing you don't know is something. V'ros falters just on the edge, letting his palms graze the stone. His eyes flick to Lycinea, troubled, but he obeys the directive to stay. "Thanks," he mumbles, lowering his gaze to his hands. Sadness edges his voice still, and still, it's significantly less than earlier when he was sobbing and shaking. "You're welcome." It's proof that Lycinea has manners that she just never chooses to use. She'll even look away, for him, as she holds up the towel for him to take from her. "You should still drink the klah." It's probably even still warm, given the ambient temperature of the cavern. Without preamble, V'ros hoists himself out of the pool, arms shaking with the exertion, and takes the proffered towel. He doesn't make a show of it, just goes through the motions of wrapping it around his hips. His eyes fall on the klah mug, briefly. "I can't.." He takes a breath, exhales, shrugs. "I don't want anything." Then, he's moving off to the cubby where she put the dry clothing. He makes sure to turn, with his back to Lycinea, while he's pulling the shirt over his head. She goes to collect the unwanted thing. "Okay." She'll not force him. "But promise me you'll eat something before this time tomorrow," Then, "please." More manners. Maybe she cares, maybe she feels like she has to because it's all she's been able to do here. Lya doesn't turn toward him, but does say, "I had to guess about the sizing. I hope it's alright." She reaches up a hand to smooth tresses that have escaped from her sloppy bun, not really worried about it, just something to do with her hand. The shirt fits, but the pants are one size too small, hugging his legs in a definitely non-masculine way. Not that he particularly cares now. "Yeah. It's fine." V'ros uses the towel to scrub at his hair, getting rid of excess water. "Thanks," he murmurs again, carrying the unneeded towel with him as he walk up to Lycinea, and stops, suffering through another awkward moment. "I'll.. be fine." Lya's eyes pull quickly away from his pants. She wasn't looking! Awkward. She reaches out to take the towel from him. "I know. But you still need to eat. Promise me you will, or I'll come check on you tomorrow." It's a threat, yes it is, her lips are set in a no-nonsense line. "Lya." V'ros gives his head a shake. "I don't want to eat, and I don't want to talk, and I don't need you to check up on me. I'll be fine. I have to be." He plucks absently at the towel, but slants the kitchen aide a look that says about a million things. "V'ros," Lya says seriously, "When have I ever cared what you wanted." Then she cracks just a little smile for him. "You will be fine. Because you have to be, but in order to be fine, you'll need to eat by tomorrow. I don't think it's asking much for you to promise me you will." She gives him a rather pointed look. "I didn't get to help anyone." This comes more quietly after half a breath. "I don't get to. Let me. Please?" At least, let her feel like it. V'ros turns to face her. His face is as passive as it's been the whole time they've occupied the bathing cavern. "If I tell you I will, will that be enough for you?" What he's really saying is - will that make you leave me alone? He doesn't return her smile. Lycinea looks at him a long moment. Then, "Nevermind." She doesn't even bother waiting to get the towel from him now, but instead takes that mug of klah and starts plodding toward the caverns. Maybe he should call her back. Maybe he should apologize. Maybe he could say "yes" and act like everything is fine. But he does none of those things, instead, he watches her leave, barely keeping the hurt off his face. Its minutes later, of him standing in one place, that he follows behind and exits the cavern himself, making his way back into the chaos and eventually, his weyr. |
Leave A Comment