Logs:After Fighting Thread Over Crom
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| RL Date: 19 March, 2008 |
| Who: B'yan, F'rint, Lujayn, Melata, Milani, N'thei, Shanlee |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 16, Month 9, Turn 15 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
| The threadfall that preceded this was off-camera. Aurora, Equinox, and Hailstorm Wings had no injuries; Equinox flew sweeps afterward. Sarisia/brown Tiqueth (Snowstrike), D'ver/bronze Puirth (Snowstrike), N'thei/bronze Wyaeth (Glacier), Eigery/green Thursneth (Avalanche), and S'vent/brown Nijath (Avalanche) were among the notably injured. T'wef/green Zevilth (Glacier) were the only fatalities. Just under five hours after nearly 150 dragons left to fight thread over Crom, the Wings of Aurora, Avalanche, Glacier, Hailstorm, and Snowstrike return to High Reaches Weyr, most of Equinox still on sweeps over the area. A few dragons and riders have already returned to the Weyr with injuries, and one pair will never return-- T'wef and Zevilth were lost *between* over three hours ago, with no time to mourn them as thread fell. The weather was kind, the 'fall was well-fought, and there's a general sense of weary exultation from the dragons that touch down in the bowl. Arrayed to the east is Hailstorm with the few non-sweeps riders from Equinox. Glacier, Avalanche, and Snowstrike land in formation at the western end of the bowl, with Aurora just off to one side. A triage table of the High Reaches three Journeymen Healers and a dozen infirmary aides is near the dragon infirmary, with stools, redwort, numbweed, and kits to treat minor wounds The dragonhealers have already begun to circulate to check on those who may have sustained non-critical injuries. Wyaeth touches down with the rest of Glacier's formation, even heavier than his typically thumpy landings. He favors his right hip considerably, and the dim twilight reveals a raw-looking welt that would account for his discomfort. A single command ripples from the bronze through the Wings, reinforced by Kaylith; the Wings are dismissed with his personal gratitude. N'thei, still between his neckridges, moves with a similar caution when he slides heavily to the ground with a hiss between his teeth. Without delay though, he's looking around for the Wingleaders in the gathering darkness. Pushed beyond the normal limits for a green, Kaylith is nursing a severe muscle strain, her right wing hanging limply. Small chuffs of discomfort emit softly from a dragon exhausted to the point of sickly grey. Her rider doesn't seem to be fairing much better either, but that obdurate nature of Shanlee is what holds her together as usual. The angry red welt of ashburn that marks the side of her neck ignored as as she tends her lifemate with thick slatherings of numbweed. Melata is off her dragon quickly after touch-down, and if she has any reservations about her near-miss during the Fall, she does not show it. Instead she is quickly sending her 'seconds to check out the rest of Avalanche while she herself goes stalking after dragonhealers to see how certain riders who left during the Fall are doing. Pushed beyond the normal limits for a green, Kaylith is nursing a severe muscle strain, her right wing hanging limply. Small chuffs of discomfort emit softly from a dragon exhausted to the point of sickly grey. Her rider doesn't seem to be fairing much better either, but that obdurate nature of Shanlee is what holds her together as usual. The angry red welt of ashburn that marks the side of her neck ignored as as she tends her lifemate with thick slatherings of numbweed.'. Commanding, what more could one expect from Teonath? The queen has no sooner landed than she expends her will to calm an injured dragon, to keep him relaxed while a dragonhealer promptly attends to the wound. Satiet moves away from her queen, seemingly to tend to the rider in a similar way. The light brown of hide of Tiqueth is not hard to spot and he stands out more due to the fact that he is rather frantically twisting every which way in order to catch sight of Sarisia who is undergoing a rub down with numbweed on her left shoulder and neck region. "Calm," She says threw gritted teeth as the numbweed is applied, watching anxiously as Tiqueth too gets a good smathering on his left forearm with the stuff. Hailstorm's Wingleader, B'ren, dismounts and jogs across the short distance to deliver a brief, clipped report-- not to N'thei, but to Shanlee. Although he gives the Weyrleader a crisp salute before he returns to check on his dragon, on his riders, he clearly knows just who wears the pants in this Weyr. Jaireth touches down smartly, his rider already in the process of dismounting and ripping off his helmet. Panting from the exhaustion of Fall, B'yan slaps a brief hand and once-over on his bronze before he starts looking about his wing - and further onto the Weyrsecond and Weyrleader down from him. Lujayn lingers on the edge of the bowl, drawn out of the barracks as news of the wings' return spreads. For a moment she watches the riders mill about, almost gawking, but is soon recruited by the dragonhealers. "Don't just stand around," One tells her, handing her supplies to carry. "Follow me and don't get in the way." Lu can only pull a face and follow along, head turning every which way to watch proceedings as she goes. Suraiya has arrived with the queens and other pregnant riders, though few and far between with all the Threadfalls happening. She had finally decided to put off flying for the belly. "Sari?" She calls, though softly, as she takes off her head gear and glances at the whirling eyes of her lifemate, who rumbles encouragely. "I saw 'em too," she murmurs back before unbuckling and sliding down to the ground, looking up to the queens before deciding it didn't matter and to rush towards the bustle of Healers, instead, eyeing them warily a moment before looking for the familiar brown dragon. Melata finally manages to corner a harried dragonhealer, gaining the report on both Eigery and green Thursneth, followed by S'vent and his brown Nijath. She nods as she is told that both of them will be in the infirmary for awhile, but both will be returning, eventually, to duties. There is a list of other minor complaints for other dragons as well, the there is relief visible on the Wingleader's face as she get the report for the two major injuries. With that, she returns to her Wingseconds for a quick conversation before checking over her own dragon one last time before (finally) heading in the general direction of the Weyrleaders. N'thei begins a salute back to B'ren, raises his arm part of the way to his forehead, but he thinks the wiser of it just before he can put strain on his newest score. "You there!" He calls that hastily to the dragonhealer with Lujayn, oblivious to the weyrling in his wake so far; "Numbweed please." He indicates the gobbed skin on Wyaeth's hip, the bronze surprisingly casual for all it's a pretty substantial injury. To Shanlee, because she ought to know! "Melata and B'yan?" B'ren is offered a curt nod by Shanlee and a few words in exchange, her eyes flashing sidelong to the Weyrleader pair shortly thereafter. A waterskin is snagged by those handing them out and thirst quickly slaked as the weyrmate of T'wef is given a quick glance where she stands, still hopeful of the green pair's return. Shudder. Focus on answering N'thei rather, "In one piece as far as Kaylith reports." Healers already assail B'yan, and the wingleader listens with pointed nods before he exchanges brief words with them and turns away. He matches pace with one of Snowstrike's blueriders, pointing him in the direction of the infirmary before his hazel eyes scan the bowl and lights on Sarisia and her brown. He looks to be heading in that direction until one of the healers returns to his side with a bucket of numbweed and a skin. He takes both with a nod of thanks and moves quickly to Sarisia and Tiqueth with a quick look up and down of the latter. To the brownrider, "You alright?" he asks of her, holding out the numbweed for her to take. Carisandra follows behind Lujayn, gawking as she walks over to the landed wings and gets grabbed by another healer and loaded up with supplies while the healer and her assistants dash about taking care of the 'minor' injuries. "These sure don't look minor to me." she mutters as she dashes past Lujayn on her way to another dragon with a score on haunches. Melata eventually makes her way through the post-Fall crowd of dragons and riders and healers and helpers, taking several detours as members of her Wing and others call her aside for a question or a comment. Finally she is before the Weyrleaders and Weyrsecond, avoiding the healers that are here as well, to make her report. Tiqueth is the first to catch sight of Suraiya's advances, his eyes swirling even faster at the familiar but not too well loved face. A low grumble is issued as the healers continue to work on his forearm, stuck for now it seems. But Sari is warned and her blue eyes lock onto to her twins, clearly not pleased. As B'yan speaks, however she nods quickly. "M' alrigh'" She says with a slight grin as she shrugs. Bad idea. She winces in pain, grabbing the numbweed rather quickly and dabbing some more on. "Can't believe it happened, great conditions and all." She mutters darkly, clearly dissapointed in her performance. Lujayn heads in Wyaeth's direction, or rather follows after the dragonhealer when he starts to the bronze's side. "They're used to it," She has time to guess as Carisandra passes her and before the healer begins speaking, demanding her full attention. "..won't do, so keep clear of that. Just numbweed, and I'll handle the rest. I don't think he'll need calming, Wyaeth's a tough ol' guy," Lujayn wonders at the healer's familiar tone, but pulls out the numbweed. "Redwort on the hands," Snaps the healer. "Can't be spreading germs." The weyrling bites her tongue, rinsing her hands with the disinfectant before beginning to slather the numbweed over Wyaeth's wound. Trying not to look too closely at it, but there's morbid curiosity in her eyes. N'thei beckons with a finger toward Shanlee's water, left-handed tonight, at least until he gets himself patched up. "Melata, give Shanlee your numbers. T'wef's the only one dead by my count. Your Wing's injuries?" Though hardly the gentlest way, the words certainly get the point across and T'wef's girlfriend becomes a puddle of tragedy on the spot. The Weyrleader turns a blind eye, just now half-distracted by work being done to Wyaeth, by the morbid expression on Lujayn's face. Ahhh weyrlings. Suraiya finally catches sight of Tiqueth as well. Ozriadasoth stays back, so as not to crowd with those injured dragons, as well, and she glances up to the brown before rushing an approaching Healer. "I'll help!" She hisses to them. Completely healthy, she could easily help smear numbweed on the dragon. Or rider. "Sari!" This time, her voice is louder, and she weaves over to her and the Wingleader, barely giving B'yan a glance as her misty eyes turn to the threadscore on her sister. "Are you alright? I have more..." she lifts her own salve, though asking before she approaches her. With a body used to heavy loads, Basquirin is quickly asked to help a healer carry their supplies as the wings make their return to the Weyr. The stablehand is carrying a few jars, carefully clenched in his arms as he quickly shuffles his feet to keep up with the healer. "Hurry up, kid," the man calls back to Basq, as they approach a panicking, whimpering blue. The stablehand winces as he sees the gouge score amongst the dragon's hindquarters. The healer doesn't seem to flinch, and Basquirin quickly realizes that, although it is painful for the dragon, that it isn't that horrible of an injury: it just looks worse because it's so much bigger than the beasts he deals with in the stables. Basquirin hands the healer some numbweed, and it is slathered on the minor score. The blue's relief is immediate, as the whimpers changed into relieved croons. Milani moves around, briskly busy, collecting empty firestone sacks and other paraphernalia in the wake of the end of Threadfall. She's got a basket for this very purpose, though it's starting to fill up rather quickly as she moves between the rows of landed dragons. Her face for once, is serious, though she doesn't pause in her work much. B'yan catches the wince, and lets go of the numbeweed once Sarisia takes ahold of it. With a quick critical gaze upon her dragon now, "Don't take it too hard," is his even words of either comfort or understanding to her last, bringing his gaze back to her with a nod. Looking towards where he could see N'thei, "Let me report in and I'll come back if you and Tiqueth need me further," he offers before ticking a hand up for the healer with them as he moves with the skin and passes Suraiya with a bare nod as he heads off. Melata looks from N'thei to Shanlee, and then with the smallest of shrugs starts to relay in tones that have reported about hundreds of Threadfalls the injuries of Avalanche, the healers' prognoses, the tactics that worked and those that didn't, even her own near-miss. She ignores the sounds around her, stopping only once as a loud bellow of a dragon somewhere in the crowd shatters the air, then continuing as if the inturruption never happened. Shanlee finally gets to gingerly applying some numbweed to the ashburn on her neck once she's satisfied that Kaylith is beyond feeling any discomfort. Wiping her hands on a rag and turning as Melata approaches, N'thei is offered a hard look for the blunt disclosure on T'wef's demise, she does however hand over her waterskin to him, "Starting to become a habit," with a nod to his injuries. Back to Avalanche's wingleader attention fully on her as the bluerider reports, eyes flicking over to the brief disturbance and then back to Melata again. Carisandra is sent back to get some more numbweed while the healers assistant takes the last pot she's holding. She dashes off to the side where the table holding most of the supplies is and gathers up a few more pots as well as some more redwort. Once her arms are re-loaded, she returns to the general area where the healers and her assistant is. Each working on a different dragon. When Sari comes near him with the intention of help Tiqueth grows agitated, his eyes whirling wildly he takes a few steps back. "'Queth!" Sarisia barks, bringing the dragon to stay still. Now that her lifemates under control she turns her full attention back to her wingleader. "Don't worry, we'll be alrigh'." She tells B'yan before he moves off but then her face turns icy when Suri gets passed the numbweed. "I'm better now." She tells her twin cooly, taking her right hand off her shoulder, keeping her eyes on Tiqueth the whole time. As the twilight deepens, the purplish light turning bluer and darker, glowbaskets are brought quickly out from the lower caverns to aid checking on dragons and riders. The grimmer injuries are ushered off to the appropriate infirmaries, but the triage table is busy with cleaning up minor burns, nicks and cuts, things of that nature. Lujayn's hands are busy but her ears are still open, taking in the reports and to some extent the healer that's returned to oversee her work. "..around the edges," He's saying something or other, but Lu finds the riders to be infinitely more interesting. Spreading the numbweed to cover more of Wyaeth's hip, she nods mutely, and again when he asks her about dragonhealing experience. "Then sew this up," Catgut and a substantial needle. Cloth. Noting the suddenly hesitant look on her face, the healer smiles more reassuringly. "I'll be around, and there's not much you can do to make it worse." With a last pat on the shoulder he's off to survey more severe injuries, and Lujayn faces down what seems like a wall of endless bronze hide and one huge wound. "Sure," Is her belated reply, facing it down. Numbweeded, redwort, check. 'Gut in the needle, check. Practice makes perfect, but it's real this time. Milani bends down near a brownpair, picking up two sacks, one entirely empty, one still with 'stone in it. The empty one goes straight into the basket, the partly used one, she peeks into, getting a measure of how much is inside it and promptly sneezes at some of the 'stone dust rising up off the lumps withing. "Man. Nothing like the smell of firestone," mutters the assistant headwoman, then she pulls the sack closed again and pulls the mouth of it through her belt. She looks up as a dragon bugles some distress and makes a little face, then spots another empty sack and trudges thattaway. Melata asks, "Anything more for me to report, Shanlee?" Eyes swing sideways towards the Weyrleader, and back to the greenrider. Tough as nails, Wyaeth. He holds up like old leather while Lujayn and the dragonhealer get numbweed on his hurts. As unfazed, N'thei shrugs the left shoulder and grim-smiles at Shanlee; "Always liked the looks of patchwork." He pays courtesy attention to B'yan and Melata, mind in a thousand places while he drains a long drink out of Shanlee's waterskin. An aside to Lujayn, mild from his gruff voice, "It's not like you can make it worse, neh?" The bronze's rumble could very well be pained laughter. Slinging the skin over one shoulder, B'yan approaches Shanlee, Melata and N'thei finally and gives his acknowledgement with a nod. Spouting off the report told to him, he adds "Got a bronze injured that I'll be seeing to, and Sarisia and her brown I've just been by. Healers think they should be alright. No one grounded," he adds, looking from Weyrsecond to Weyrleader as he idly rubs his firestone-sooted hands together infront of him. Then, rather abruptly to Shanlee, "Sorry about T'wef," he sends with no emotion. In among the reporting by Wingleaders, F'rint makes his way into earshot. As likely a man to be handed a Weyrsecond's knot as ever flew in Glacier, the grizzled brownrider cocks an ear, takes a look at Kaylith's drained state, waits quietly in-the-wings. Suraiya glances up again towards the brown dragon before looking back towards his rider. She also gives B'yan a distracted nod as he leaves to report. "I just want to help, an' you need someone to help with the wounds." She holds up the pan of numbweed with her blue eyes scanning the wound, her lips pursing. "I can fix you up as good as any of the Healers here," she says calmly, her other hand hitting her thigh impatiently with her helmet. "Jus' forget 'bout what you said the other day and let me help!" She tries to glare away a Healer approaching, but with tearful eyes after that last Fall, it doesn't help. "Always get it in the sharding face!" Shanlee grumbles, until she peers downward and catches sight of a charred patch of leather over her left thigh, "Just great." Lujayn is given an askance look as the inexperienced weyrling looks set to be stitching Wyaeth up, but she leaves that to his rider. He whom is offered a lifted brow, "I'd rather have the type that keeps me warm rather than hurts when I try to sleep," on subjects of patchwork. Melata is given a crooked twist of lips that could almost be a grin, "Who's got the wineskins maybe?" serious once again, "No. You've about covered it, thanks Melata." Snowstrike's approaching wingleader now gains attention with a nod and weary look, "B'yan." Listening as he now gives report, her own face immobile for his last, "It happens," low enough that the sobbing weyrmate being taken off likely doesn't hear it. Sarisia and Tiqueth are afforded a short study thereafter. Melata nods at the semi-dismissal from Shanlee, but does not leave yet as she waits to hear B'yan's report. Sarisia remains rooted to her spot, clearly hoping her sister will go away if she ignores her. "'m fine, was at the infirmary earlier." She states dryly, her eyes looking over her sisters head. After a while she changes strategies and she heads over to Tiqueth. "Why don't ya make sure yer precious 'mate ain't scored?" She makes sure to say loudly as she situates herself in between as many healears as she can, watching closely as they tend to her now much calmer lifemate. Even though she tries her best however, it's obvious that her wounds are still bothering her. At Shanlee's stare she turns her face away quickly, busying herself with trying to locate water. Lujayn purses her lips and shakes her head, but gets down to business. In and out, that wasn't so hard, don't hurt him now. Pausing at the noise from Wyaeth, she glances wide-eyed to N'thei but continues when no orders are given. "Right," Anything to keep her mind from running itself ragged, she talks. "That's why he left me, nothing hard," Only when she holds her breath are her hands completely steady, tying off the first suture and moving to the next at the other end of the wound. "Does he hurt? I have more numbweed." She offers, easing into her new role bit by bit. Wyaeth> Ozriadasoth, Jaireth, Kaylith, Tiqueth, and Verenth sense that Wyaeth shares from the midst of his irritation at being all stitched up, by a fardling weyrling no less, the following information; « Equinox reports in. No burrows found. Cromese won't let 'em land and report to the Lord accourse, but the ground's clear. We did right by 'em. » Carisandra is trailing behind the healer heading for Sarisia. Her eyes are wide as she hears bits and snatches of conversation as she walks. She remains silent as the healer pauses to check a scored wing sail that has already been doctored. She catches a glimpse of Lujayn actually- actually stitching a dragons wound? Oh wow. Her eyes are huge and she almost stumbles catching herself and focusing back on where she's going when the healer snaps at her. Ozriadasoth, Jaireth, Wyaeth, Tiqueth, and Verenth sense that Kaylith's return is little more than a slow swirl of mud at this moment, taking in the information from Wyaeth and duly passing it on, « This will please mine. » Ozriadasoth, Kaylith, Wyaeth, Tiqueth, and Verenth sense that Jaireth sends a gust of hot sandy air, both coarse and rough as is his nature before grunting out a « Relayed. This is good. » N'thei looks at Wyaeth; Wyaeth looks at N'thei; they both look simultaneously at Lujayn. "Just keep at it there, love. We'll let you know if it gets to hurting." He takes a moment just to give Shanlee a look after her comment, hard to read in the growing darkness, harder for anyone but the greenrider to interpret. "Almost wish Equinox's report had gone the other way;" only loud enough for those nearest to overhear, B'yan and Melata just barely. Shanlee senses "N'thei's look ought to be familiar to Shanlee if no one else; a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a brightness in his eyes in response to her keep-me-warm remark. He shouldn't even have to say the obvious joke. Unfortunately, the merriment dies when Equinox reports." "/Not/ my mate," Suraiya stresses, knowing what her sister was talking about. She passes the pan off to a closer weyrling, avoiding the Healers all together as she wipes her hands on her pants, which only gets ash all over them from the fall. "Fine. Get help from /them/," she sniffs, pointing to the working infirmary aides, before catching sight of Carisandra and following along after her. "Need any other help?" She wipes black streaks across her face, and then glances over her shoulder a moment before continuing off to see where else she could be of use. "That it does," B'yan quietly agrees on the score of the lost Glacier rider, a solemn look afforded those around him brief. Slipping the skin from his shoulder and deftly popping its seal as he sends a critical gaze in the direction of his wing, "I can get some wineskins out and about," he states as he returns his attention to them all, perhaps responding to Shanlee's mention of the wineskins to Lujayn. "I already have K'dal taking a couple to pull from the storages." You sense Shanlee catches that look, interprets and adds nothing more than a wry shake of head in response, her features smoothing out for the report coming from Equinox. Still continuing onward, there's a little trail of dribbled loose firestone for Milani to pick up and she's not paying attention too well to where the trail leads. She comes around the hulking shape of a dragon and she spots feet in front of her perhaps too late, letting out a short squeak and blurting out: "Ack!" as she practically bumps into Basquirin, her arm clutching hard onto her basket to avoid losing it. Melata hears the comment, but stays quiet. After a few minutes she says quietly, "I need to see about getting wine for my riders as well, those that aren't in the infirmary or heading up to their ledges. T'wef and Zevilth had some close friends in Avalanche. Lujayn blinks, wiping her eyes with her forearm. Second down. Now the center suture; she's getting steadier at least, though her expression hasn't changed much. "Okay," She nods to N'thei's almost-encouragement, making sure the numbweed is within grabbing range before continuing. Now there's a little distraction twisting her mouth, and she just /has/ to ask. "I thought they got off well, Equinox? Why would you want it to be different?" Her eyes remain completely on Wyaeth, focused. Sarisia chooses to ignore her sister's words but when Suri's not looking she spares her a glance, eyeing her quickly to reaffirm that she is in fact alright before turning her attention back to Tiqueth. "No burrows?" She says to her lifemate, a slight look of relief on her face. "Show 'em 'Reaches knows what they're doin'." She says smugly, grabbing up some numbweed and applying it to the browns hide. "Wineskins?" She states quickly and rather happily, her eyes moving over to B'yan. "That'd be the best thing right now." She adds, licking her lips at the thought of a nice cool glass of wine. Or bottle. Palming a hand over her face, which does more to smear soot than clear it, Shanlee utters a sigh, "I don't recall if they had children or not," and then quickly leaves off the subject of their lost wingmate. Melata is offered attention briefly, "If you wouldn't mind to meet with me in the morning, I'd like your input in going over some of the strategies used today?" Dulled eyes light briefly as wineskins being brought out from the stores is touched on, "I think more than a few could use those round about now. Wine, a hot bath and sleep," turning to survey the wings as they start to disperse. Lujayn is offered a dryly amused look, "Weyrlings may not drink," the reminder given out with a glance about for the 'master or one of his assistants. Carisandra glances over her shoulder at Suraiya. "I'm not sure. I think I have everything they need?" and she nods at the healer she's helping, quickly scooting ahead to hand over the redwort at the healers demand. The mention of wine makes her look wistful for a moment, but only a moment before she gets her mind back on what she's doing. It takes a quick reaction from Basquirin to keep himself from dropping the load of supplies in his arms. "Ack!" He also shouts, clutching onto the healer's supplies for dear life. The healer, who has moved on to stitching the gaping score, glared at the two of them, before retunrning to his work. Making sure that everything is intact, the stablehand looks at himself, before looking at Milani. "Well, fancy being bumped into by you here, Milani," he chuckles, looking back to the dragon before casually looking back at the assistant headwoman. Melata nods at Shanlee, "Morning. Yes. If you don't mind, I think there are several riders of mine whom are starting to register the loss. I need to get them taken care of, now that the healers seem to have my Wing's injuries well in hand." And it's just as well; a few Snowstrike riders are seen with numerous wineskins slung over shoulders, moving amongst the crowd slowly and in B'yan's view. Sending a slightly wry grin Sarisia's way, "Make sure each of you grab one before retiring," he drawls to the Weyrleader, Avalanche's Wingleader, and Weyrsecond, raising up the one he has before catching a passing healer and mutters a few words to him with the skin going in his care. The healer moves off quickly in the direction of the Snowstrike's injured bronze, his bronzerider claiming the skin before he returns to examining his dragon. Rough, eyes snapped momentarily between Shanlee and Melata; "He's dead. What does it matter if he had kids?" N'thei's teeth grind a moment, his injured shoulder rolls experimentally, and he turns abruptly to answer Lujayn's question with a rush of dark humor out-of-place in the surroundings. "Ignorance really is bliss on this one. --How many more stitches you have left there?" Melata takes her leave to arrange for wineskins for certain members of Avalanche, as well as check on the injured in her Wing again. Suraiya bobs her head after the weyrling. "Right, it seems in order," she says, eyeing the Healers before finally making her way out from the group. She shuffles back eventually to her own lifemate, running a hand over the green hide. "You did well, Ozzy. Sorry that's all that we can do." Her eyes do close brieftly before glancing up as the wineskins are suddenly produced. She looks hopeful for a moment and then sighs heavily, realizing she could not partake in it. With an affectionate rub at the green, she mounts back up before glancing down from her higher perch to see if there was anything else she missed. Milani straightens up, pulling the half-empty firestone sack from her belt and sets the basket down briefly to open it up and dump the stray bits of 'stone into it. "Well you know, everyone's got a job to do," sing-songs the young woman with a flashed grin at Basq. She eyes the 'score on the dragon in front of them both. "Bad one, yeah?" "Thank you, Melata. Go tend to your wing, we'll catch up in the morning," Shanlee responds to the bluerider. Snowstrike's untouched riders moving between the wings with the wineskins draws a short curve of lips, "Your people have the right idea here," offered approvingly to B'yan. N'thei's snapped comment earns him a dark look, uncharitable words of a cussing nature held tightly in check for those around them, "Faranth forbid one should have an ounce of human compassion," annoyed she gathers up flight gear now, readying to depart after her green that's headed off down to the lake. Rilsa weaves her way through the bowl, working on the various and sundry injured, finally arriving at the largest contingent of humanity and draconic gaggle. Hair has escaped her normally meticulously neat braid to surround her weary face. She moves from one DHL staff to another, checking on work, making sure everything is flowing smoothly while adding notes to the hidebook. "That's for sure." Sarisia echoes Shanlee's words on wine, stroking her lifemates side gently. "How's he lookin'?" She asks the healer who is finishing up on the browns wounds. The older woman gives a tired nod to signify that Tiqueth will be fine before moving onto a small green in far worse shape. At B'yan's order she calls out "Aye!" heartily, not taking long in securing her own skin, clearly in better spirits now that wine is being discussed. "I'll one in yer honor too." She says happily to her dragon, winking at him while she steals another skin. She watches curiously as Suri gets ready to leave but remains silent. Lujayn is slower than a seasoned dragonhealer would be, and she knows it as some riders disperse after being treated. "A few," Is her reply, not wanting to rush but feeling the pressure of being the last woman standing. "Just closing up what's left, he's being so good," Complimenting the patient instead of pressing the issue, she ties off yet another. "Oh, shells, I'm sorry Wyaeth," Apparently Lu felt her tug was a bit too hard on the knot, though there has yet to be a reaction (if any) from the bronze. Rilsa's appearance is unknown, as she keeps both eyes straight ahead. Basquirin gives a shrug, trying to pass off a feeling of calmness, though he just can't help but looking a bit worried. "Yeah, though I s'pose it could've been worse." He says, looking back at the blue as the healer grunts. "Almost done," the man says as he stitches up the numbed hide. The stablehand smiles again at Milani, and says, "My job right now is just to carry around stuff," he barks a laugh. "Guess it's something I'm used to," he winks. B'yan catches N'thei's comment to Shanlee and Melata and no expression registers on his face. His gaze passes to Shanlee, lingers there, before he ticks a nod towards the departing Melata and sends back to N'thei and Shanlee, "I'll see about my wing and those skins," he wryly dismisses himself, dipping his head before he moves off to seek out his bronze and those in his wing. Ozriadasoth gives a soft saddened croon to the rest of the dragons still nearby. Suraiya gives her one more pat before turning her gaze to her sister, finding her easily in the injured crowd. She gives her a wave, either way, when she realizes she was being watched before giving Ozri the signal to take off and head back up, most likely to their weyr for a much needed nap. Melata sets about dismissing those that should be dismissed, calling for wineskins to go where they should go, and generally pushing herself too hard, as always. N'thei answers Shanlee's snip in a flat look, B'yan's self-dismissal in the same vein, feathers ruffle-free, and his attention drifts to incorporate Kaylith while the green moves. "She's over-exerted again. I'll talk to F'rint in the morning about a second 'second. Get some rest." --He lands on a lean of his good shoulder to Wyaeth's near shoulder, an eye kept to where Lujayn stitches, the bronze a model of masculine restraint. "Don't apologize. If you heard the things he's saying about you, you'd hardly call him being good." "Sure, most of the time, can always be worse," Milani remarks philosophically as she eyes the almost-stitched 'score. Then she grins over at Basq nodding. "It's a useful job. Leaves people's hands free to do the other work." She picks up another piece of scattered 'stone and drops it in the sack she carries. "I get to tidy, so no one trips and breaks their face stumbling around tired after," she explains and looks around, snags another empty sack with the toe of her shoe and drags it near, drops it in the basket. Rilsa finds herself near Lujayn and N'thei. "Weyrleader." She greets absently before focusing on Lujayn. "How is it going?" She asks. "Not bad suturing..." "What's he saying?" is Lujayn's immediate question to N'thei, dabbing away ichor with a clean towel before continuing. "Unless you're too much of a gentleman to repeat it," She finds herself joking, nerves winding up into a shaky laugh. "Rielsath wants to pester him, but I've been holding her off. Maybe he could tell her, instead." The end is in sight, at least, and the injury doesn't look so horrible when it's not gaping open. Shanlee's attention follows after B'yan briefly as he moves off, an unreadable expression on her face. This is until she flings a glare N'thei's way, but her response is put first to the bronze, "They'll have you back in the air in no time at all," gentler for the dragon, harder for his rider, "We'll discuss that tomorrow." On Kaylith's over extension, about a second Weyrsecond, and likely a few other things held in check at this time. F'rint is barely acknowledged, as with jacket, helmet and gloves scooped up she brushes past him. Rilsa however, garners a half-hearted attempt at a smile, "She's doing pretty good," Lujayn that is, "Kaylith is calling for attention," apologetic as she moves off toward the lake shore, a wineskin taken up from one of those handing them out. Melata is told by one of her lingering wingseconds to go...just to go. Wash Verenth, take a nap, just something. Relieved of the last of the supplies she's been toting around and released by the healer and her assistant as they tell her they'll finish up, she wanders a bit aimlessly at first. Until she spots Lujayn busy with her stitching. Her own morbid curiosity gets the better of her as she wanders over and stands as close to the big bronze as she dares to watch. "Fine, I think. Wyaeth's saying bad things about me, though." Lujayn glances to Rilsa for the barest moment. Sarisia does not return her sisters wave and instead keeps stock still while her Suri departs. When her twin is finally gone she seems to relax, her shoulders sagging again and causing her to grimace in discomfort. With the two wineskins slung over her good shoulder however she seems to be in better spirits. "Ya gonna be fine gettin' up to the weyr?" She asks her lifemate gently, adjusting a strap idly as she listens to his response. Her blue eyes roam however and she watches B'yan closely, curious as to the wingleaders next action. Basquirin nods, and says, "Indeed. Well, you almost tripped into me, so..." Basquirin playfully chided, winking at Milani. "Yes, it is useful to have useful peoples' hands free. I probably couldn't do what he's doing," Basq gestures to the healer, who gives a light chuckle, but is too involved in his work to give much else of a response. Rilsa chuckles softly, watching Lujayn quietly before responding. "They all say bad things ... it's in their nature when getting stabbed." Melata is told by one of her lingering windseconds to go...just to go. Wash Verenth, take a nap, something. "Falling on your face won't help anyone," she is told. Melata nods, a tired slump coming to her frame. "I'll be at the lake, if you need me." Verenth, seeing his rider /finally/ taking a break, swishes his tail and leads the way to the shore. B'yan finds himself by D'ver and his bronze's side, exchanging long words with the healer looking him over before he gestures towards the skin the bronzerider now has. With one of his lopsided smiles, he's on the move again, then time returning over by Sarisia and this time giving Tiqueth father inspection. "Doesn't look too bad from here," he comments slowly, passing a quick look Sarisia's way for her response as one of their wingriders approach with a few wineskins in tow. "Better me than a tired rider?" Milani replies matter-of-factly to Basq. "and me neither. I can barely repair tears in my clothing. You don't want me going anywhere /near/ someone's skin or a dragon's hide with a needle and thread." N'thei keeps his eyes averted from Shanlee, his expression from registering her talk-about-it-tomorrow response, his attention fixedly on the weyrling and the dragonhealer and the bronze beside them. "Let's pretend I'm too much of a gentleman and leave well enough alone. As she says--" He nods in agreement with Rilsa's remarks, a nod that also greets the brownrider. "Days? Weeks? What's the estimate, Rilsa?" "Yeah, I s'pose you have a point, there." Basquirin nods, as if confirming this statement. "Sometimes I just wonder how they do it. Maybe we should learn," the stablehand shrugs. Peripherally aware of a growing audience, Lujayn bites her tongue and just focuses on her work. Not much left. "Well, if that's the case," She nods in acceptance, carefully evening out the next suture, waiting for Rilsa's estimate. In the process of leaning up on tiptoe to watch Lujayn, there's a bugle from the other end of the bowl and Carisandra jumps. "Yikes. She's awake." and she steps back from Wyaeth carefully. Once she's out of 'bumping into anyone' range, she starts across the bowl. "Give a holler if anyone needs any more help. Coming Izzy." A brief pause, voice fainter as she gets farther away. "Okay, okay. Iesuth." Sarisia's face seems to fall at B'yan's interaction with D'ver, clearly feeling a bit guilty over the bronzers injuries. When the wingleader joins her she nods, slowly before giving the brown a good whack on his uninjured rump. "He's a big boy." She says with a slight grin, her eyes focused on B'yan now. "He just likes to complain an' get attention." At this statement Tiqueth rumbles deeply, raising his head slightly as a form of protest to his riders statements. "Is D'ver gonna be alright?" She asks tentatively, nodding towards the bronze pair. Milani eyes the stitching and shakes her head. "I'll stick to cleaning up," she says bluntly. "It'd take more than a little practice for me to be any good at /that/." "Sounds like a few others I know," B'yan responds to Sarisia's words on her brown a bit dryly, his eyes roaming on a few riders rather than the dragons. His gaze coming to rest on her now, "His bronze got a few wing scores, but nothing numbweed treatment and rest can't cure," he answers on D'ver, a look going the bronzerider in question's way with a thinning of his lips. "Sent a wineskin his way and that should calm him." Rilsa eyes the injury and the suturing while contemplating N'thei's query. "It may take up to 6-8 weeks to heal fully and regain full mobility with some therapy, Weyrleader." Pausing again, she adds. "Since it is on the hip, landings and sometimes takeoffs can pull the sutures before they are ready so I recommend no activity for the first sevenday. After that, no fighting Thread but general activity is okay." "Indeed," Basquirin agrees, as the healer turns around and says, "All right, I'm done here." The stablehand looks at the newly-stitched wound, and nods. Making sure his grip on the basket of healer's supplies was good. "Looks like we're moving again. Coming with?" He asks of Milani, giving the assistant headwoman a questioning look. It's taken a while for any of the infirmary types to get up the nerve to skitter toward N'thei, for the rail-thin young man with his triage kit to mumble something about taking a look at that shoulder. The intention was undoubtedly to get the bronzerider somewhere with better lighting, but the two retreat only a few steps to park on a stool and set to work. Jacket removed gingerly, tunic torn-and-cut more open down the back, he absorbs Rilsa's comments with teeth filing his lower lip; "Longer than I care for. She can't throw in a few extra stitches and pare that back to five days?" A glance at Lujayn; can she? "Sure, there's sacking pretty much all over the place," answers Milani and she tags along after, picking up stuff as she goes. "Seems like it was a fairly injury-heavy Fall overall," she remarks to the stablehand. "And of course ... there's the loss." Sarisia gives a snort at B'yan's analysis of her lifemate and probably about half of the weyrs population. "Ya got that right." She says, shifting the skins while she listens to the status of D'ver. "Good, wine should lift his spirits and make 'im forget anythin' it doesn't cure." And with that she eyes the rest of the bowl, happy to see it loosing a number of riders and dragons, a sign of recoveries. "I guess I'll jus' keep him from workin' too hard over the next sevenday or so?" She asks B'yan indirectly, tugging at the straps lightly. Rilsa lifts a shoulder in a shrug as she replies. "Sure she can. We can add a lovely double-stitch scallop to make it look prettier too but in the end, it depends on how well he is healing." Sutures are dancing before Lujayn's eyes, nearly, but the end is in sight and she doesn't falter. N'thei's question gets a shake of the head, leaving Rilsa to fill in the details - and pauses in confusion before she realizes the rider must be joking. Continuing with the standard stich, she ties the last knot and snips off the end. "Well." Is all she can say, or wants to say, observing Wyaeth's haunch with stilled hands. Mirroring that snort in agreement, "Or otherwise forget period," B'yan tacks onto the brownrider's statement, keeping up with the dryness until he turns a crooked smile on her. With a sudden call to his name heard, "Nothing strenuous," the wingleader agrees with her, looking Tiqueth over one last time before giving up his examination. "Feel free to take the day off if he complains, and I'll see how he does with drills and sweeps afterwards." Stepping away then, "I better see to the others," he states, raising a hand towards the greenrider that called him earlier. "Get some rest, Sarisia, hear?" as he prepares to depart. Eager-seeming; "Could you? Sounds lovely." That's what N'thei says; Wyaeth's snort would answer differently. "How well he's healing. Understood and thank you." Bitter gratitude he gives Rilsa, a more genuine nod to Lujayn to follow. Behind him, there's a bit more activity when it turns out the skinny aide trying to doctor his shoulder is ill-prepared for the task and has to wave over the healer at the head of the Basquirin-Milani-train. Rilsa stares a moment at N'thei, suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and turns back to Lujayn. "Well done, indeed. We should start you on the next set of classes soon ..." Ah, that was good timing! The healer grins as he begins heading towards N'thei and the others, with Basquirin and Milani in tow. The stablehand looks back at Milani, and chuckles, "Don't trip!" Sarisia nods her head quickly as B'yan tells her what she needs to know on her lifemates injuries. "Sounds good, I'll keep an eye on him." She states before giving the wingleader a salute as he departs. "Take care of yerself too." She adds before getting up slowly onto the brown with the aide of Tiqueth's right forearm. With a final glance at all those still present she and Tiqueth depart for their weyr, ready to put that wine to use. Lujayn remembers not to stand around like a dope after just another moment or two, now bending to wash the needle in redwort as well as her hands. Towels, numbweed, it's all getting packed away when Rilsa mentions more lessons. Despite the understandable dread any mention of extra lessons brings to any Weyrling, Lu is betrayed by her tongue. "Of course. I think I have time between lunch and afternoon chores.." Wait, what? Treachery! Milani bends, picks up, drops sacking in basket. It might almost be comical to see her progressing this way all the way over to where the Weyrleader and various attendants are. Duck, pickup. Duck, pickup. She straightens in time to slow down and not bump into anyone this time. Rilsa chuckles softly, "When lessons settle down somewhat..." With that, she moves on to the next grouping to check over work and make sure her log is up-to-date. B'yan returns the salute before he moves off, passing on to a few more wingriders of his before he finally makes his way back to Jaireth. With fatigue showing little signs in him as he collects up a skin and takes a long scan around, the Wingleader vanishes towards the inner caverns with one healer in tow as his muddy bronze lifts and angles his way towards the lake. Protests that there's not enough light for this work are shushed with a look and a reminder that Lujayn, /a weyrling/, just stitched Wyaeth, why can't the healer just shut up and get to work? While the healer grumbles but breaks the redwort for a mean-looking thread-blister down the weyrleader's shoulder, N'thei puts away his grimace and casts a grin toward the weyrling; "Planning to learn the hard way, are we?" He can't help but be briefly distracted by Milani bobbing along with Basquirin. "Yessir," Lujayn replies automatically, but forms a more satisfactory response when the carrying bag is all sorted out. "Well, I want to learn more. So I couldn't say no, right?" Freed of the sutures, and with nothing else pressing in upon her, she sits right down on the ground and has a look around. Bobbing for bags? There's a tired grin there. "Yes, you could." N'thei's duh-hello? expression is fleeting since the healer's idea of revenge is to use as little numbweed and as many jabs as possible. "I'd get in as much no-thanks practice as I could if I were you. Don't seem too eager or you'll wind up with unfavorable comparisons to-- You must have the coldest hands on the face of Pern." The healer patently ignores the complaint, keeps working. Lujayn pulls a face of her own, "Who's comparing me to who if I take dragonhealing lessons?" She's still trying with the asking questions thing, at least. "I can't just say no thanks to everything that comes up, or even most things." N'thei's still trying with the not-answering thing. "Who says you can't?" Compared to Lujayn's speed, the healer at his back does a very quick-and-tidy job of setting stitches to the stripe down the man's back. Milani draws up short and puffs out a breath. "Phew! Hey there Weyrleader, sir, my doesn't that look nasty. Hey Lu." Blunt and cheery at once as she props her basket o' sacking against her hip. Basquirin smiles, and greets as he approaches with an oddly cheery, "Hello Weyrleader, Lu!" It might not reflect his own mood nor anyone else's at the moment, but Basq wasn't going to be the last to admit that it felt good to act cheerful. "I say I can't, because I shouldn't," Lujayn looks as if she'd like to say something more, but the arrival of Milani and Basquirin divert her. "Hello." She looks up at them not unkindly, but not quite cheerfully. "Got all those stray bags?" After Milani; "She says as if I can see my back and would know if it looks nasty." N'thei smiles blandly at the girl, at the skinny kid that comes with her. "You shouldn't. Of course." His condescending tone comes so easy, even while there's a cold-handed, thin-lipped, irritated healer poking away at his back. "Does it feel nasty? Or is here enough numbweed that you can't tell?" Milani's head cocks lightly to the side but she nods Lujayn's way. "Think so, and if not me, the others who were getting the other side of ... over there." She waves vaguely and blows out another puff of air. "So pretty much, things are shaping up, mostly. As much as they can." More seirously said. Lujayn's expression suggests her instinct is to do something in the manner of sticking her tongue out at the Weyrleader, but thankfully it doesn't come to that. Instead she focuses on Milani, "That's good. A lot of people have already gone off to rest." Blame it on the threadscore, but N'thei's especially snide tonight; "Well, it definitely doesn't feel /good./" The healer finishes his work with some mumbled recommendation about taking it easy, getting a sling for his arm for a few days, things like that, ignored while N'thei stands from the stool. "Thank you for working on Wyaeth, before I forget. Thank you for-- I'm sure you contributed something tonight, Millie?" He looks doubtfully at her collection of bags. "Poor you. Would you like me to bring you something especially stiff to drink?" Milani's tone actually does convey some measure of sympathy. "I picked up," she states clearly. "And sure thing. No problem. I also got a whole lot of wineskins ready and people were carrying them around earlier." A vague wave. Lujayn has enough grace to accept the thanks. "You're welcome," She nods, listening to talk of wineskins and drinks somewhat dejectedly. "I can't drink." Just a side comment, to no one in particular. "I'll manage." N'thei looks around at the tatters of the evening, the table that someone forgot to collect, a few empty jars that probably had numbweed in them. "You two make sure this stuff gets put up." With what's left of his jacket tossed over his arm, he heads off to his weyr. Milani tosses off a mostly correct salute. "YEssir, Weyrleader sir, will do." And she hefts her basket again, preparatory to picking up. "Klah then, Lu?" she offers more gently to Lujayn with a sincere smile for the Weyrling. |
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