Logs:Don't Argue With the Invalid
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 28 May, 2015 |
| Who: Ebeny, E'dre, Laurienth, Wroth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After the landslide, Ben is concussed and confused. She still manages to argue with her weyrmate. |
| Where: Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 11, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Casseny/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions, C'stian/Mentions, Elayne/Mentions, Eden/Mentions, Eryn/Mentions |
  |
| It would be hard to say who lost their mind more following the landslide - Wroth or E'dre. The brown, alerted before his rider, disappeared Between without E'dre and hovered over the slide until a gold's orders sent him retreating back to the Weyr. Furious, E'dre was seen shouting obscenities at any who bothered him in the strained hours that followed. Ebeny's arrival in the infirmary saw E'dre interrupting a meeting with a holder and leaving with little to no explanation - and the Hematite rider remaining had to struggle to make amends and explanations. The Weyrsecond has not left her bedside in the time since and is haggard with the lack of sleep. Currently, his chin is dipped down against his chest as sleep has claimed him in his chair. Subdued by Eliyaveith, Laurienth's fury has been settled to a low simmer that continues to have her lashing out verbally at any who get too close, or anyone she perceives to be patronising or babying or trying to be reassuring - they all get pushed until they leave her alone and leave her to storm of worry and self-recrimination. Little has changed for her rider since she's been settled in that infirmary bed, her moments of wakefulness a haze of confusion and names of 'weyrlings' now long since riders. A broken wrist and cracked ribs seem to be the worst of a plethora of cuts and bruises, leaving Ebeny looking rather like a battleground, but otherwise whole. She stirs again now, all the signs of concussion in her distant gaze, and murmurs, "...Where...?" Wroth has alternated between his wallow and near the infirmary, knowing better than to approach Laurienth and offer any sort of comfort. His presence is a buzz of static in the foreground and no more. He knows that when she is ready she will seek him out and he will not press her sooner. E'dre doesn't immediately wake at Ebeny's question, continuing to snore until Wroth shakes him awake with a shout that has E'dre stumbling forward in his chair. He blinks a few times, rubs sleep from his eyes, and leans forward to grasp Ebeny's good hand. "You're in the Infirmary," he tells her patiently as one who may have said this more than once, "you were in an accident. You've got a broken wrist and cracked ribs, so don't move. How's your head feeling?" He offers her a tired smile before he glances behind him to see if a healer is nearby. Even contact made with her functioning hand must hurt, for Ben makes a murmuring, incoherent sound of protest before she can stop herself, the sound instinctive, especially when moving quickly is out of the question right now. "...Everything's fuzzy," she admits, blinking her eyes wide before she shuts them to slits, trying to get the world to fall back into one, clear picture. "Did they make it out?" the greenrider asks for the umpteenth time. "Is Cassie okay? Laurie said that she was... I don't know why she was there." She closes her eyes and lets her head loll to one side. "Why's everything heavy?" E'dre rises from the chair, moving towards Ben's head to soothe his cool hands against her forehead gently. He brushes her hair from her face and leans down to press his lips briefly against her cheek. "Cassie is fine. It was a landslide. You got trapped. You're out now. You're healing." He glances around the room again and signals with a jerk of his head for a healer to come over. He steps out of the way as the younger man murmurs softly to Ben and does a check of her vitals and asks, "How is your pain? I can dose you with fellis again if you're hurting too much. It would do you good to be up for a bit if you can manage. Let your weyrmate here talk to you and when you grow too tired he can fetch me." The man glances at E'dre and then away as another patient pulls his attention from Ben's side. E'dre reseats himself and pulls the chair closer to the bedside. "You've had me very worried," he tells her, moving to rest his hand gently on top of one of hers. "We're getting too old for these things Ben." "...I think 'healing' is a matter for debate," Ben drawls, as she tilts her head a fraction to seek out the cooler quality of E'dre's hand. She keeps blinking, first at him, then at the ceiling, and then at the healer, who she gives her hazy attention to for long enough to say, "I can't see properly. There's not... one of anything." The pain doesn't sound to be high enough on her list of priorities right now; not above her sight. However, she doesn't push the matter, whether she understands it's a temporary side effect or not. As E'dre moves his chair closer, she tries to look in his direction, but her neck doesn't really permit that much movement yet. "I'm not old," she protests, slurred as it is, an edge of true disgruntlement there. "I'm forty... two. You can be old. I'm not getting old. I decided long ago." The healer did not seem prepared to stay near Ben at her proclamation of eyesight issues, leaving E'dre to scowl at the man's retreating back. "No bedside manner," he grumbles. He returns his gaze to the greenrider as she presses into his hand and changes his scowl for a fond smile. "I'll take being old for the both of us. I've outgrown near-death experiences the last 5 or so turns. Maybe you should try your hand at avoiding them too. Even if it means declaring yourself 'old'." He pauses, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. "You should've seen Cassie, should still see her. She's been a real wonder. I'd tell her I was proud of her but.. I don't want her to take it the wrong way." He shrugs, looking baffled by his own assessment of fear which she may not be able to register with her eyesight. "Should I go and get that man back? Have him look at your eyes more closely?" "Because I threw myself under a landslide on purpose." What filters Ben has developed over the turns must be malfunctioning, or the pain and concern over her sight is agitating her enough to keep much of her usual kindness from her voice. "I'm not old." Again, muttered this time. Her sleepy-edged irritation slips away somewhat when she tries to focus on the matter of Casseny and what she can - or can't - remember. "...She was there." Whether her understanding or Laurienth's. "Why was she there? She shouldn't have been there." Her features soften into a smile. "She's always been bright. Doesn't get it from me." Just as quickly, that smile fades. "...You should tell her. She must be... embarrassed. Look at the state of me." She twitches her fingers in a semblance of a wave, dismissive. "I'll sleep soon. Can't see when I'm sleeping." So it doesn't matter? "You didn't see me out there helping before it hit," E'dre counters, whether or not in defense against her tone or arguing his lack of empathy, he sounds mildly agitated. "She was there. I haven't asked why. I haven't left here since you came in." He sighs at Ebeny's assumptions. "She can't be concerned with embarrassment. I am sure she is glad you are alright. She gets plenty of things from you and intelligence is one of them." He ruffles his fingers through his hair as he slouches back in the chair and watches her. "That's 'cause holders piss you off." Yep, filter definitely not functioning. Making that connection must allow Ben to make others, since she slowly hazards, "...It wasn't the barracks. We were at a hold. I was... building something?" She attempt to focus, narrowing her eyes, but that causes enough pain to warrant lifting an arm to press her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "She was worried... about a mudslide? She wanted to go look." A spluttering sound follows, close to laughter, and then her arm is needed to press across her ribcage when she writhes awkwardly in answer to the pain it causes. "You sure you didn't get hit on the head? I'm not smart. Half-broken and I know that." She dwells on that for a moment, then murmurs, "You should get some rest." Maybe E'dre has been through some version of this already because he doesn't seem confused by her confusion, more weary of the topic. "Holders don't do enough for us for all that we do for them." She's heard that one from him before. His own tiredness is bringing out his "bad habits" that have been kept at bay for some time now. "All that rain," he clarifies, "and people stuck in mud or needing help or were ill. You two went with Lilah to help." He can't shake her but he does slap his thigh loudly in response to her degrading comments. "You are smart and kind and the better of us. Don't worry about being broken. You'll heal. And I am not tired!" "...Don't argue with the invalid," Ben replies, a silly, half-smug smile curving one corner of her lips. "'Specially after you've gone on about bedside manner." She lets a moment pass before adding, "Rude," in as deadpan a fashion as she can summon. "Maybe I'll remember better later." But maybe she's made that assumption before too. She reaches, seeking one of his hands without looking. "...If you've been here all this time, you need rest. The girls'll need looking after and I won't be running around with them for a few days. I figure." Days, sevendays? Does she know? "They are fine," E'dre states, "they haven't been in to visit. I promised as soon as you're better. I've got some of Hematite helping out. Good practice for them." He settles his hand into Ben's , cupping it further with his other hand. "I just.. can you not take so many risks in the future? You don't have to rush out and offer help. Next time.. just stay." "...You've got Hematite looking after our daughters?" Ben might not be in any state where channelling anger is going to be productive, but it doesn't stop her from immediately trying to sit up and free her legs of blankets.... though it rather effectively prevents her from getting any further than demonstrating that clear desire to leave. The pain she causes herself in trying to escape her bed draws a strangled cry from her lips, and she immediately has to admit defeat. "Put them in the nursery or go and look after them," she demands, attempting to suppress the tears in her eyes. "I don't want them with them. If Cassie was there, maybe I was there 'cause she's mine to look after. Like our girls." E'dre looks affronted as he backs away from Ebeny. "They aren't evil Ebeny! The girls don't want to be in the nurseries all day and night! They like their uncles and aunties," whether or not their mother may even allow them to call them that. "I'm not putting them in danger. They are well cared for." He folds his arms across his chest and mutters a few curses out before he looks from the ground back to her. "Do you really believe I'd put them in harm's way?" He demands, scowling. "It's not as if I dragged them along on--," he cuts himself off and looks away from her. "No, but you think it's okay to leave them with the kind of people who think it's funny to walk into a flight weyr while we're having sex." Increased heart rate, or blood pressure, or the simple act of trying to move has Ben pressing her eyes shut against the pain as she presses her head back into her pillow at the same time. "Just go," she grits out, that angry or just unwilling to face an obvious struggle against the pain in-front of him now. At least her cry of pain has alerted one of the healers, who begins to drift back towards her bed. "I have friends who I trust. N'muir, E'ten, even C'stian. They aren't all bad. Even N'rov..," E'dre does not bother to clarify further. "I'll go," his voice is heavy with fatigue and sadness, "and be with our girls." He moves to grab her hand and steps away without the contact. The healer is there, prepared with pain relief and a pattering of questions. E'dre watches for a moment before he turns to head out. Later, when he's bathed and the girls promise to be careful with mommy, he returns and brings them for a visit that gives the girls a sense of peace in seeing their mother. E'dre is broody and silent the entire time and as soon as he's sure the children will agree he takes them home. Ben's slightly more coherent the next time, some measure of pain eased away by numbweed and what else can be administered without knocking her out for too long, given her concussion. If she notices E'dre's state of being, she doesn't draw attention to it, or call him on it, what focus she can wrangle for the children, though she does seem rather oblivious, even for her. Does she remember the details of her previous discussion with her weyrmate? Or is it a good act? She'll never tell. Perhaps there's nothing to tell. |
Leave A Comment