Logs:Waiting Game
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| RL Date: 5 March, 2014 |
| Who: Kinai, Nazius, Telavi, Wakina |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: When K'zin is finally allowed visitors after Rasavyth's accident, Telavi isn't the only one waiting to see him. |
| Where: Dragon? Infirmary, Telgar Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, F'manis/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Kinzi/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Zakari/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. Two bits of vignette and a scene. NPCs by K'zin. |
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| Five days. Six days. Seven days, a sevenday, finally enough time to be counted as a lump; finally the man-shaped lump on the cot can be allowed visitors. Several have come and gone already, in pairs and singletons; most notably among them are his wingleader and-- not for the first time-- the wingsecond who's more than that and also very much more than his weyrleader. High Reaches' healers, human and draconic, may not be currently in attendance but then they aren't exactly 'visitors,' either. It leaves Telgar's whitewashed infirmary the more low-key for their absence; the local crafters may have allowed the others to weigh in but, well, nobody can pretend it isn't awkward to have a foreign rider and dragon in residence for the duration, and just about everyone breathes a sigh of relief when Telgar's left to its own devices. Patients, of course, excepted. Just now, ushering people to and fro is relegated to an apprentice-- 'a trained healer must be practiced in all the duties of an infirmary,' quotes the bland-looking journeyman who oversees him-- who might otherwise like to be doing something more exciting, such as putting in stitches, taking out stitches, cauterizing wounds, or sleeping. There are plenty of spare cots to nap on, too, since the kid with the skinned elbow was shooed out just about as soon as she'd arrived, leaving just a few patients audibly present: first, a heavy snorer that occasionally stutters into silence only to roar back into existence; next, a patient who's mostly silent but for the occasional low, pained moan; and last, the only one with his curtains drawn back, a wispy-haired uncle chattering to himself and having a really good time... who isn't even a rider, if his scribe's badge is to be believed. Even the waiting area continues to clear out, a bluerider donning her still rain-wet jacket as she shares a few last words with a similarly young, similarly 'Reaches-knotted greenrider with a mostly-empty plate on her lap; they could as well be in the living caverns if it weren't for how they're both so solemn. It seems, though the greenrider's features may be further blurred with exhaustion and worry-- she's been here often enough to be mostly overlooked by the healers, now and again allowed to slip in unofficially-- all that hasn't stopped her from being able to eat.
Naz wasn't sure when his mother sent for her sister, whether after the first time he suggested the leave or the eleventh. But there was Kinai on the third day of their wait, smelling of salty brine and fish guts (yeech). It was Kinai who told him none-too-subtly that he should return to the Hall. If it were up to Naz, he'd have been gone in a heartbeat. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother, but, he was either going to die or not, and from the sounds of it, it wasn't even his brother who was hurt. Just his stupid dragon. Men have lived without dragons before. Sadly, it wasn't up to him. Well, it was, but if he chose to go home and leave their mother, even with Kinai there, Zak would sit on him. Literally. And it wouldn't be just sitting, Naz knew that much from experience. So he "chose" to stay, despite now being unwanted in addition to not wanting to be there. It was the icing on the sweet bun, really. So they waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, an apprentice appeared at their lunch table to tell them that visitors would be permitted starting that afternoon. And the waiting was over. Or so Naz thought, until, upon arriving at the infirmary waiting area, the trio of dark-haired blood relations were told they would have to wait until a pasty-faced, blonde-haired-- wait, wasn't that that rider he met back at the Hall?
Telavi's busy with the grainy roll; momentum means she takes another bite before green eyes lift, lift and focus and-- for a split second-- narrow on Nazius. Now they've widened again, and she flips her braid forward over her shoulder before she says, "No fooling you, is there! My condolences." Politely. "Belatedly. I'm Telavi." Her glance flicks towards the women beyond him before returning to the youngest of the crafters; her hands neatly contain the plate in her lap. "You just got here?" Nazius has no hesitation in rolling his eyes, though whether it's for the first phrase or the second... That's easily a debatable topic. "Right. Nazius." He flicks a finger toward himself, just in case she's forgotten. He glances over his shoulder toward the women, "My mother, Wakina, and her sister, Kinai," since he's making introductions anyway, not that they're presently close enough to realize they're being introduced, some several paces back behind the man finding seats of their own. "We've been here a few days, waiting. Mother's insisted on staying until she can see him for herself. Nevermind that he isn't the one that's been injured." Nevermind that Nazius was in the Weyr a few turns himself; clearly, he didn't learn a lick about dragons and their lifemates. "You?" He inquires in turn. Tela duly cranes a look past him to spot the women, and likely to try and identify which is which, though she doesn't spend more than a moment on it yet; it's easier to smile then-- days! insisting!-- though it doesn't wipe away the underlying worry, and after last time, she still keeps her hands to herself. "Looking in," she says. "Not keeping nearly busy enough. So, what, you're playing escort?" "Mmmhm." Naz's lips press together in response, glancing back at the women, whose eyes are now on them since they've settled into seats now. "Any news Mother wouldn't have heard so far? We haven't been told much." He must be asking for his mother, since he sounds as bored as if he might as well be asking if there's only stew again for dinner. At his mention of the older woman, Tela peeks back at her, essaying a brief wave before looking back up at Nazius. "I don't know," she admits. So unhelpful! "They have him settled at least, which is better," than screaming, "but does she really want to hear how awful it sounded? Besides, that's not really news, it's not like he's suddenly back to walking and talking and..." here she bites her lip, glancing away. The woman sporting twin braids wrapped in leather thongs just before the ends sees the wave and offers a polite smile and nod in answer. Nazius purses his lips, nodding. "It would almost certainly be better if she didn't." His expression sours. There's a glance around the curtained alcoves. "Which is he?" That has Tela looking back, but slowly. She doesn't reply immediately-- perhaps she doesn't remember? perhaps she's considering telling him the wrong one? perhaps she just needs a little more recovery time?-- but in any case nods toward one off the curtained-off sections, closer to the dragonhealing side if not fully in it. "I couldn't encourage you to barge in, of course," she murmurs piously. "They'd likely tell you to leave, and then you couldn't wait here any longer." He might have to wait somewhere that's more fun, but then, where isn't? It seems that Nazius won't need to do any barging, because it's just then that a trio exit the alcove indicated, one of the infirmary aides moving to the waiting area. "Rider K'zin's mother?" is requested politely. Tela may have been here and here and here; but short of weyrmate, nothing trumps mother. "Here," is the answer from the woman with loose-hanging deep brown hair. She's already on her feet and the other woman behind her, gesturing to Nazius to come. He spares a glance for Telavi and a shrug. If he looks just the slightest bit smug that he's going in, and she's left waiting... well, no one ever said he was charming or well-mannered. Ever. The three follow the infirmary aide back to the curtained area and it isn't long before Nazius is reappearing. He lingers just outside, looking unaffected, and then saunters lazily back toward the waiting area. "Well, that was a waste of a trip," is his bored comment to the greenrider. The name can't help but draw Tela's attention; she might have forgotten Nazius was even there, with that opaque look she gives him only once he moves. It's the women her eyes track thereafter, though, and she's just looking after them for long moments before bowing her head and doing-- whatever it is she does. By the time he's back, short though it is, the plate is gone and so are the remains of the roll. There's innocuous off-white cloth in her clean hands, and a threaded needle stationed in it that she hasn't touched. "Not exciting enough for you?" "He's fine." Clearly, Naz is an expert. "No bruises or broken bones. Just lying there, mumbling." He rolls his eyes. "He's probably faking it for Mother's attention, like he always used to do." Another eye roll has to accompany that statement before he flops into a seat. "You're wasting your time here." He advises the greenrider as his arms settle loosely across his chest. 'Fine' incites an arch of one fine brow. But, "Maybe," Tela admits with a sigh. "He might not even know we're there." Except for his mother, right? Telavi is all set for his mother to bring a miracle, what with the trumping and all. Her gaze wanders about the room, never rising nor lowering particularly far, and never touching her stitching. "...Faking?" It's fishing, sure, but with a distracted nothing-else-to-do affect. An eye-roll meets Telavi's conjecture, before the Journeyman is waving a hand dismissively, if still slothfully. "Oh, yes. See, our mother liked to be journeying. She certainly could have had a posting at the Hall where our father was raising us, but she didn't. And Waki was convinced if he were sick enough, she'd come to see him after she came to see Zakari after he was trapped in that cave in all those turns ago." Naz sounds bored even by this. "So every cough he got was surely a deadly plague. He didn't give it up until we were all at the Weyr together. It was the only posting my parents shared since they were separated when he was a journeyman and she an apprentice." Which might just explain how someone like Wakina ended up handfasted to someone like Zianarius, and why none of her sons look like her husband. All these things are important, surely-- and Telavi certainly has sad soulful eyes for the plague story, whether or not Nazius is entirely to be believed-- but, "...Trapped? In a cave? What?! And which of you is Zakari again?" "Hazard of being a minecrafter, my dear." Nazius could probably make even Alida's skin crawl by sheer force of smarminess. "Zak is the oldest. He was an apprentice at the time. Supports gave out. He was one of the lucky ones. Just a few broken bones. Mother always did treat him a little more specially than the rest of us boys, probably because he was first." It may be just as well, then, that Telavi has long sleeves. "'Just' a few," she says with a shudder. "Did you ever have one fall on you? That sounds awful." "There are only two types of minecrafters: those who have, an those who have yet to. I'm of the latter," Nazius relates it candidly, serenely even. "Fortunately those that fall on us are usually minor affairs. It's the convicts that get stuck working in the truly dangerous shafts." He's just as blandly blase about this as everything else. After all, it's not as if convicts are people. Taikrin stopped being Weyrleader a long time ago in Telavi Turns, but still-- and then there's Jo; while Tela hadn't started out looking wholly well, she's gone pale, her lips tighter now. A beat later when she can speak again, and then another couple when she can refrain from saying something she really really shouldn't, "Who teaches them, I wonder." "The criminals?" Nazius questions, but before there's really time for an answer he shrugs. Doesn't know, doesn't care. Telavi nods once, and then she stands, murmuring something about how she'll be back; her feet can't help but take her several steps deeper into the infirmary, before good sense can override and let her circle towards the outer areas as though she meant that all along-- as though she has to powder her nose, or whatever it is girls do. As Telavi starts to near the alcove in which K'zin is housed, the woman with the long twin braids steps out, turning to carefully overlap the curtains for privacy. A woman's voice can be heard within, soft and reassuring in tone though the words are unintelligible. Once done, Kinai is turning, taking a step toward the waiting area, but stopping almost immediately as her eyes settle briefly on Nazius and she frowns. Surprise pauses Telavi, and as long as the woman's back is turned she listens; at that soft voice, something about her features eases ever so slightly, even if it's counterbalanced by the color rising in her cheeks. "Excuse me," she murmurs, curling the cloth in her hand. A backward step keeps her further out of the older woman's way, but only one. "Oh, no, excuse me," comes Kinai's polite rejoinder. "I ought not've stopped in the main thoroughfare. I wanted to give them some privacy, but I--" Her brown eyes cast toward rge chairs where Nazius has sprawled himself, "I didn't want to sit." Her completion is tactful. "You know Nazius?" Making small talk in the main thoroughfare is probably as equally ill-advised as stopping, but it doesn't stop the Journeywoman SeaCrafter. Green-today eyes track the exact same course. "I can imagine," Telavi murmurs. "Especially if you've been through a lot of," she tucks an escaped blonde strand behind her ear, "sitting." Neither does she seem particularly concerned for whoever else might wander by and have to detour around them, though it's not impossible that she's keeping an eye out for some ancient auntie with a knife-cane. "I... wouldn't say I know him, exactly," this with a glance at Kinai. "I only ran into him the once, when K'zin and I were--" separately, "--visiting the Minecraft." At least she can say his name without too much of a tremor, though she glances towards the alcove once more. "I'm Telavi, by the way." "Oh!" It's a soft exclamation and Kinai's lips curl involuntarily into a small smile. "You're one of Waki's friends," As if the world is suddenly making sense again. "Well met, Telavi. I'm Kinai, Waki's aunt." She wipes her hand out of habit on the soft leather breeches she wears before offering it to the greenrider politely. "Have you seen him yet?" 'Kinai' clearly rings a bell, if Tela's parted lips and the widened eyes with which she gives the other woman a quick down-and-up look are any indication; after a moment, she too is smiling, and gladly crosses the other woman's palm. "Not officially," she admits more solemnly, no got-away-with-it dimple or, for that matter, prevarication in sight. "It... it was so out of the blue. I'm glad you could come." Would come. There's the slightest blush to Kinai's cheeks, though whether she catches that she's known or whether she thinks Telavi caught some private opinion about Nazius versus K'zin, it's unclear. "I'm afraid we don't understand it very well. Perhaps you can explain it to me better. His dragon was injured and that's why he's like... this?" "Well," and just like that, Telavi brightens up a fraction-- something she can do! something that isn't just sitting there!-- right before biting her lip and glancing again at that alcove. Then, more discreetly, at Nazius where he's commandeered the chairs. "I can certainly try. Only, would you like to go somewhere nearby that isn't so..." she gives a little shrug but doesn't look at Nazius this time. "The main cavern's quieter this time of day," and it's right there, "or perhaps step outside?" "I shouldn't stray too far, given..." Only Kinai doesn't look toward the alcove where Wakina's voice can still be heard murmuring and K'zin occasionally interjects with one of his awful moans. She looks to the sacked out Nazius, then back to the greenrider, "But I could step outside. Lead the way, Telavi." Even now, Telavi glances down and away with a shudder at that sound. But she nods, manages a small smile for the other woman, and detours just long enough to take her jacket and small sack-- in which the fabric gets stashed-- from their hook. It's not a warm day, not in the third month of the Turn, unless one has colder places to compare it to; beyond the overhang the rain falls, the air fresh and faintly misty, nothing like the smells and especially sounds of where they had been. Telavi turns up her collar but breathes in deeply before turning back to Kinai. "Do you have a firelizard?" she asks, serious enough to not be just shooting the breeze. Kinai doesn't shudder, but then she doesn't seem like the type who would. Her stride behind the greenrider is efficient, but not overly, so she doesn't step on Telavi's heels on the way out. She'd not been in the infirmary long enough to truly get comfortable, so she's still wearing the thick cabled sweater she arrived in. "No. I'm afraid Wakizian is the first of us to really have anything to do with dragonriders," Not that firelizards are dragonrider territory, really, but certainly related. The statement also probably explains why to his family, he's not only still 'Waki', but Wakizian as well. Telavi doesn't twitch exactly, but then she never had used that old name; it's known but unfamiliar, like a pet name, registering in her eyes' fractional lessening of focus before they're intent on Kinai again. That, or she's talking to Solith; it could happen. "Mmm. In that case," she says to the older woman with a fledgling if short-lived smile-- Kinai's here, she wants to know-- "I'll pretend you don't know much of anything, and you can just stop me if it's more basic than you'd like, all right?" Tela does take a moment to think, but then it seems to be time for talking hands. She holds hers up, wiggling one hand's fingers to denote, "The dragon," and the other for, "The rider. They're linked." She shapes fists and bumps them up against each other, peeking to see how Kinai is doing with this; is she getting it so far? "And they can share what the other one thinks or feels, more or less." "It's not something you'll have to strain your imagination to pretend," the SeaCrafter assures the greenrider in that moment of thinking. Once Telavi begins, however, there's nodding for at least the linked part; that small amount, she knew. Her brow furrows at the sharing, surely there have been rumors enough that one's mind makes assumptions about that which she doesn't definitively know, so some amount of adapting those assumptions is required. Still, the second nod Kinai gives is encouragement to Telavi to continue. Telavi's relieved smile, despite her own weariness, intends encouragement in return. "So," she says, "Some pairs are only this close," this time the knuckle of one fist barely touches a knuckle on the other, "and if the dragon's in a lot of pain, which they say he is, still... it hurts and it's scary but we're still mostly ourselves. But K'zin and his dragon... they're like this," and she's searching out Kinai's expression that much more, does she get it? even as her lifted hands seek the other woman's gaze with their display: no longer true fists, even, their fingers laced and the hands themselves curled to make a whole. After a pause, "That's the main thing," implies more. So closely has Kinai been following Telavi's explanation that when her hands entwine, there's a soft but sharp intake of breath. A nod comes after a moment of thought. "The dragon," Does she know Rasavyth's name? Surely once it must have been mentioned, but did she bother to remember? "He was hurt badly?" Can Telavi imagine that Kinai might not know? Or perhaps it's easier this way, to not name names-- or it doesn't even register, what with the surprise that blooms in her expression before it pales into something more like shock. "They didn't tell you?" she breathes, and it's not that she waits for an answer, it's that she can't help but look back at the infirmary and further, closer to the dragon side. Her eyes have darkened as she looks back at Kinai, pupils expanded in the thin ring of iris. "His wing," she says. "It's bad. Have you... ever dislocated a shoulder? Or anything really? And it's his wing shoulder--" There's a grimace for dislocating that shows Kinai's experience. There's a solemn sort of nod to confirm it further. Then, quietly, "Our finding out was really happenstance. Kinzi let us know when she heard." So the gossip mill must have been working fast if Kinzi heard wherever she's posted now. "Auntie," the voice comes from within and almost certainly heralds the approach of Nazius. Nazius. Ugh. Telavi does attempt not to grimace in return-- surely he can't compare to a dislocation and tearing... can he?-- but the contrast might be the more apparent for its arriving in the wake of what had been a quick, interested nod for Kinzi. Kinzi, who found out when his own mother hadn't. Why can't Nazius walk more slowly? Impulsively, she reaches toward Kinai's sleeve, her would-be touch featherlight and just as brief. "Where are you posted, ma'am? Perhaps, I shouldn't promise, but perhaps I could pass along news now and again when there is any." Any good news, anyway, even if only a little bit. "Out of Tillek." Kinai answers distractedly as she glances toward the infirmary. "But I'm navigator on a ship there." Her eyes flick back to the greenrider, "If the Madelyn isn't in port, find Zakari. He'll want to know." Presumably also at Tillek. Then Nazius appears, but he's not alone. Weeping Wakina is under his arm though he offers no words of comfort. She holds a handkerchief close to her face and lets her son do the speaking. "Mother would like to return to the room." Kinai's nod is swift before she addresses the 'Reaches woman. "Thank you, Telavi." She shoots a swift glance to the infirmary and back. "I expect he's free now," Kinai adds this softly. Tillek. Madelyn. Zakari. Tela's lips part, and though she doesn't go so far as to repeat those names under her breath, she has that intent memorizing look. "Safe travels... Kinai." Softer yet, following the other woman's gaze, "Thank you." If ever this particular greenrider can fade into the stonework, she does so now; on the strength of the single look she'd given the other pair right when they had arrived, she discreetly averts her eyes from the woman in her grief and slips away-- back inside, despite the moans, officially this time. |
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