Dragonhealer's Yard

Painfully elegant, a stubborn brand of cleanliness is retained in the gentle colors of faded murals and various curtains hung from the rusted metal poles meant to shelter injured dragons on spacious couches lining the permanently soot-stained limestone walls. Of a dusty no-color somewhere between brown and gold, the floor extends onward, fading beneath ragged cabinets built to withstand anything from lashing draconic tails to various medicinal spills.

It is the seventy-ninth day of Winter and 26 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

Midmorning dawns overcast and cold, as is expected for most wintry days even in Igen's climate. The day prior saw the Wings rise to meet Threadfall and already there is activity brewing in the 'Yard for those who joined the injured ranks. The numbers aren't as dire as previous 'Falls but try convincing those stuck here that that is a good thing! A few of the patients are rousing, grumbled and low rumblings of discomfort echoing in the otherwise subdued atmosphere here. There's enough going on here that extra hands are always welcomed… and no doubt a few have been recruited just for that very task. No Candidate left idle, right? Ixanedre was unfortunately looking too "idle" this day and was volunteered (voluntold, more like it) and the closer they approached this place, the more sour his temper has become. By the time they've crossed the threshold, he's in a bad temper though he's keeping a good grip on it; the only sign that he's off is the set of his jaw and the heavy frown darkening his expression.

Vosji has no injury herself, nor did Iskanzivoth take any hits, but she's still nearby visiting a friend or two; a small score here, a sprained wingsail there. Of course, the Weyrlingmaster also has family present in the form of her 400-turns-removed cousin, dragonhealer I'yn, who is the one who looks over at Ixanedre thoughtfully and says, "He looks absolutely delighted to be here, hm?" And after seeing which candidate the greenrider means, Vosji just shakes her head once. "No, he always looks like that." She'll move closer, though, to keep an eye on the candidate group while I'yn is setting a forelimb. Which means slightly repositioning that forelimb, and SNAP goes ligament as it rolls over bone. No reaction from the stalwart green whose leg it is, but anyone who's never heard that before? Yeah, it's a little gross.

Also included in the group just arriving at the Dragonhealer's Yard, Xanthee isn't looking as comfortable as some, but she definitely doesn't look as bad tempered as Ixanedre. Her face is almost unreadable as she steels herself for what she might see of injured dragons. Not like she hasn't seen it before, she's grown up in the Weyr. It's an inevitability. Holding her shoulders back, the raven-haired girl proceeds with the group, looking around at the various injuries, silently thanking Faranth there aren't more gory injuries. Shooting a sidelong look at Ixanedre, she moves to ask him if he's ok, but then that SNAP seems to set her teeth on edge and her skin suddenly blanches with a distinct greenish tinge.

Definitely more than a little gross. Ixanedre readily joins Xanthee in paling considerably as he grits his teeth and tries not to shudder at that ominous sound. He's too busy trying to scrub that memory out of his head to really focus on the conversation between Vosji and I'yn, otherwise he'd have brazenly glared at them both. Thankfully, he remembers his place in rank and, with a deep breath to settle his frayed nerves, he salutes the Weyrlingmaster and Dragonhealer for good measure. "Morning." he grits out, not really trusting himself to say any more. Except his gaze does turn downward to Xanthee and now, bad temper or not, he manages some of his usual behaviour. "You ok, kid?" Yeah, because clearly she's the only one struggling!

"Are you both?" Vosji is not letting you get away with that one, Ixanedre, but she will show a modicum of concern, not overly touchy-feely or anything, for both of her candidates. I'yn is too focused to even return a salute, so Vosji's can just count for both of them. "That noise is unpleasant," she adds, "but doesn't seem to have bothered her at all. If anything, it feels better." Indeed, the green is bending her wrist in a way that it didn't look like she'd been able to before — and her rider and I'yn are both trying to get her to stop so the limb can be properly wrapped up.

Is she ok? Xanthee is not immediately sure she is. She has to bite down on a rising feeling and swallow a couple times before she trusts herself to talk, "Yeah, I'm fine," she finally manages to squeak with a weak smile. More than a little embaressed that she forgot to salute herself, and quickly rectifies that with a sharp salute to both in turn before she tries to focus on what Vosji is saying, her color coming back gradually.

Trying not to be sick might be a good excuse not to immediately salute a higher rank. At least, that'd be Ixanedre's defence! He quirks a brow for Xanthee's answer but he doesn't needle her any further for now. Instead he just nods grimly to Vosji. "Yeah." he answers tersely. It's not out of disrespect, it's just how he is when his thoughts are so stormy. At least he doesn't seem as sour? He rubs at his own wrist, while casting a swift look to the green and both her rider and I'yn trying to wrap that limb. "So… what've they dragged us here for?" Blunt, but honest in his desire to know why they've called on Candidates. "I dunno about her," He tips his head to Xanthee. "But I don't know a thing about… this."

No one seems to mind about delayed saluting, at least; it's almost like the staff of the dragonhealer yard is used to it. "You'll have rudimentary lessons just after you Impress, on the event that you do," Vosji explains, "I think we might have Doji teach them this time around." Sorry Doji. You'll have a supervisor, at least? But she knows they know who Doji is! Or should, at any rate. "As for what you're here for, I assume handing people things, maybe helping distract dragons — " Vosji clearly hadn't expected to be working herself, and therefore doesn't have much of an agenda. I'yn, though, gets to be SUPER helpful at this point, yelling over, "Who wants to help with a tail!" like this is something candidates will eagerly volunteer for if they aren't entirely sure what's going on.

When Ixanedre says what Xanthee and probably other Candidates were thinking, the dark-haired girl silently thanks him for being the blunt sort. Not that she wouldn't have asked, but now she doesn't have to. As Vosji goes on, she nods at her words, ones she's surely heard before in her previous stints. Looking around for someone that needs helping as the Weyrlingmaster explains what they are there for, her head snaps back when I'yn asks for volunteers, stepping forward and raising her hand. A tail can't be that bad right?

Ixanedre blinks for a moment, at a loss when Vosji gives a perfectly logical answer. His brows furrow and he sighs, almost defeated. "Alright, guess that makes sense." Of course it does! As she lists off some of the possibilities of what they may be doing, he regains that tense set to his jawline but it's I'yn to the rescue — okay, not really, but it stops Ixanedre from figuring out a way to protest or talk Vosji into allowing him to vanish into the sidelines. He starts a bit when Xanthee volunteers herself and, well… "You think you can hold down a tail alone, kid?" Sorry, he's not going to stop teasing her about her height but there's genuine concern deep down and buried there. So of course he's going to step up alongside her. "We can!" Emphasis on we.

Nice try there, Ixanedre, but there was no way Vosji was letting anyone who got picked for this task get out of it. That's why she's still here, instead of actually with her friend and the friend's bronze — whose head is lying on the ground, but he's watching the goings-on quite peacefully. So just to add to all the fun, the candidate group has a painkiller-stoned bronze keeping an eye on them. She even trails after them — showng no sign of being of any assistance — as I'yn beckons Ixanedre and Xanthee over to a brown with a scored tail. "Okay," the small red-haired man says brightly, "I need to be sure that Chryth here doesn't have any serious bone or bowel involvement. He's n pain, so along with T'kai," the poor brown's very tired looking rider, who seems to be swaying a little, "I'll need you all to hold his tail steady so I can get a good look. One on the tip," that would be Xanthee, it's the smalest part, "and the other two just before and just after the wound." Vosji looks — is that amusement or curiosity or just grading? yes — Vosji looks as the candidates are able to see the nice, clear, open wound on poor Chryth's lower tail.

Xanthee may be small, but she shoots a look in Ixanedre's direction that clearly states that she could if she wanted to. But it's mostly bravado on the girl's part. She knows she's strong, but a dragon's tail is a whole other matter. So she privately thanks the older Candidate with a sidelong glance and a brief nod. As she moves forward, she's pushing the sleeves of her jacket up past her elbows as she follows the dragonhealer to the brown. Why did it have to be a brown? Xanthee feels a lump settle in her stomach as she tries to keep her face as neutral as possible as she nods when assigned to the tip. She does get a good look at the score on Chryth's tail as she takes up her position, and she doesn't quite manage to swallow a soft whimper as she picks up the tail and wraps her arms around it, careful to be as gentle as possible.

Poor Xanthee. Little does she know, she has a kindred spirit in Ixanedre, though he would've been losing it on the inside if the dragon had been blue and not brown. His approach is but a step behind the girl, though he's eyeing that tail apprehensively now that they're closer. Swallowing thickly, he breathes heavily through his nose. "Right." He can do this! That's the mantra he's repeating to himself as he grits his teeth and moves into position. His hold is firm and confident… at least to start. Seeing a wound is one thing and while it does set his stomach to roiling, he would've been okay if not for the rest. He'll follow I'yn's instructions, keeping a sharp eye both on Chyrth and the others as he braces. What ends up making it all fall apart is the smell, that acrid, metallic smell… and even then he might've held on by a thin thread. Instead, at some point, his grip slips and his hand meets with texture he doesn't want to feel or isn't ready and… that's what breaks him. "I ? I can't… Gonna be…" Ixanedre manages to hurriedly excuse himself, between a heaved grunt before he's abandoning them to go empty the contents of his stomach somewhere out of the way. Unfortunately that means Vosji will have to pick up the slack in his absence but maybe he can make it up to her (and everyone else) later. For now, he's out and down for the count (and definitely mortified).

Chryth's wound, as it turns out, is a shallow one — and between T'kai, Xanthee and Vosji, I'yn is able to examine and re-clean and bandage it up without much difficulty. Then, as brown and rider are directed to get some sleep, everyone is distributed to different tasks. Just another day after 'fall. With bonus candidate vomit.