Difference between revisions of "Logs:Manly K'zin is Manly"

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.

Under Sh'mel and K'zin's leadership, weyrlings were encouraged to eat together, but not required. True, they were a team, but with Sh'mel and K'zin at the helm, there was a healthy sense of being a rider being an extremely important job, but not their whole lives. So long as things continued to go smoothly, lunch was considered free time and it was their own to do with as they chose. Sh'mel and K'zin usually ate together, welcoming any other weyrlings that wanted to join them.

Today was strange though. K'zin was there at the table. The paleness was a subtle change since the middle of the month, the occasional cough that was passed off as relating to the weather (though if asked, K'zin would tell that he'd never had the problem before). What was easily more noticeable was the lack of a mountain of food in front of K'zin. There was a small cup of soup and a bland hard roll to dip in it, but it wasn't even a quarter of what the bronzerider usually downed in a sitting. Sh'mel happened to be absent as well, but that seemed to make K'zin only look a little more at ease than at other lunches.

When Telavi slides into a seat across the way with her own profligate platter, it takes her a little while to notice, what with the hunger that has her devouring half a sandwich before really looking up. Only then it's a double- or even triple-take right out of a Gather comedy, with her own plate in between, which she then slides towards K'zin's bowl but stops partway across the table... so she can put her elbows on that table and peer at him. "You don't have the 'runs,' do you?" She could be talking about cardio.

So focused is K'zin on the action of dipping the roll into the soup and getting it to soften up, that he hardly notices Telavi when she joins him. It seems to take effort for him to lift his gaze to find her. "Hmm?" He blinks at her slowly, before lifting the roll to his lips to take a bite. He chews and then looks back down at the soup and replaces the roll to let it marinate some more. "The--? No. I don't have the runs." He might normally add some remark about her being concerned with the part of his anatomy most directly linked with that phenomenon, but not today. "Do you? Is it going around? Should I be checking on people?" These questions tumble from his lips, but tiredly, and there are the shadows of circles under his eyes like he didn't sleep well the night before.

His answer, or the way he answers, or the time it takes him to answer, has Tela peering that much more closely at the other weyrling, but her food's getting cold and she has to eat so she pulls her plate back and starts. Until, gently but firmly, "No. No, nobody I know does. No, you don't need to worry about it." And in the next break from chewing, and after a quick glance to check against eavesdroppers that has her voice dropping anyway, "How much sleep did you even get last night? That doesn't look like a hangover," not at lunch, but maybe that's why she dropped her voice anyway, in case.

He yawns, covering it with a lazy hand. A yawn that turns into a little cough, equally covered. It's getting to be that time of the turn, where coughs inexplicably just spring up. It's happened off and on over the last few days, but K'zin has minded it well. He reaches for his mug, which is steaming but doesn't smell of klah. Not even of tea. He takes a long few swallows before answering. "Like, ten hours or something. I've been falling asleep while I've been studying a lot lately. Material must be really dry." He shrugs his shoulders, dismissing. Because, well, he's a man. And men don't get sick. The bread is lifted again, bitten and then set aside in favor of picking up the bowl of soup to drink from the rim.

Ten hours, if he's counting right. Telavi does that thing where she squinches up her mouth from side to side all dubiously before she gets back to eating, not to mention thinking. "Or you're," coming down with something? no, clearly not manly enough of a phrase, "fighting something off." In which case, he could talk to a healer. But by then... where'd all her food go?! Before she rises, though, Tela will nudge his boot with hers if it's in range. "Take care of yourself, okay? Be careful with that flaming thing." And then she's off for seconds.

"Always," K'zin might be out of it. Visibly. But he does manage an encouraging smile, waving off the idea that there's something to see a healer about. Seeing healers isn't manly either.