Logs:Weak Lung Syndrome
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| RL Date: 28 May, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Rasavyth, Telavi, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin, the exercise enthusiast, sits out on the morning run. It's worrisome. |
| Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Sh'mel/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Part 10 in a series of month 11 snippets between K'zin and Telavi. Preceded by Logs: Solith, Singed. (All of these are back-dated and played via gdocs.) |
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| Some weyrlings can't finish the morning run under K'zin's watch because they have 'weak heart syndrome'. They have the physical capability, but lack the passion to push themselves to achieve the goal. Or maybe they really are physically incapable of keeping up with the exercise enthusiast. All of those weyrlings would have reason to breath a sigh of relief on day 29 when Sh'mel, who often dropped out early (but gave it a good go every time!) , led the run. K'zin didn't even follow. He got barely into a sprint when a cough came to him that wouldn't abate in time to catch up. He waved them on, while he coughed, one of the staff dropping back to check on him. Upon recovering himself, he was instructed to sit it out, which chaffed and might have been protested were it not for the pressure of the heavy layer of concerned ooze that drenched his mind then, all of Rasavyth's suspicions coming to a head. K'zin put on a good act the rest of the day, so either it had just become that apparent or Rasavyth brought his suspicions to Olveraeth, but at the end of the day he was taken aside by the Weyrlingmaster and a few quiet words were exchanged. The result? Sh'mel was on his own for reports that day. Even among the weyrlings who can and do keep going but who don't necessarily want to, there must be glances of concern bent K'zin's way, and not just from Telavi, either. Coughing is one thing, stopping another, but sitting there and taking it? Telavi doggedly continues to run after her look back, but there are other ways. Not necessarily ways she likes, though, and so when she does finally reach out to recuperating Solith to ask what the dragon can find out, it's met with a touch of pleasure verging on satisfaction that has Tela grimacing that much more under the circumstances. It's of Solith's own accord that the green's drifted some distance off the oozy outskirts from the beginning, after all, the better to pick up whatever there is to pick up. She knows that not-rightness, after all, that not-rightness that's never made the rounds because she's never whispered it along. Colds happen. Her concern is for Rasavyth, her thought a cool echo of the way he'd salved her in the dragon infirmary not long ago, if not nearly so amusing: if there is anything he needs, he has only to let it be known. Including if it's to distract the nosy. Rasavyth's mind is focused. It's still receptive, of course. It always seems to be ready to receive whatever conversation partner comes his way, but there's an inner focus to it today that is unusual. The ooze is a touch slow to react to the whispering of Solith's touch. Even the reflections of nature that he so often ripples automatically into to make her feel more comfortable are slow in coming and pixilated copies of their usual flawless mimicry. There are no words, just sensation. The sensation is a mix of gratitude and assurance that if they need something, they will ask. Not included in the sensation is the fact that they're both male and asking for help... well, they just don't go together. At least, not often enough. Poor Solith, so unacquainted with the peculiar differences of males, and so unlikely to override even the statement that she might see a lack of request as being. The pixelation is intriguing for its difference, even as it's more subtly troubling; she says nothing further, so as not to stretch those resources further, but that hint of a breeze continues to drift in and out of earshot. Sense-shot. Just... in case. |
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