====February 15, 2014
==== Tuli, Teya
==== Tuli comes for to visit the BAAAAABY.

Who Tuli, Teyaschianniarina
What Tuli comes to visit Teya and the baaaaaby, is shocked to discover he is NAMELESS. Rectifies the situation in a most Tuli-ish manner; then Elicheritath starts to rise.
When Evening before Elicheritath's flight.
Where Infirmary, Igen Weyr

tuli_default.jpg teyaschianniarina_default.jpg


ROOM

Infirmary
From the astringent smell of redwort, to the gleam of counter and cabinet, this place positively defines the concept of antiseptic cleanliness. Despite the yawning exit to the Dragonhealer Courtyard, the floors remain scrupulously swept of sand and particulate matter. Back behind the counter where the healers usually are, are shelves full of bottles and jars, as well as cupboards hiding away more delicate items that shouldn't be exposed to too much sand. Beyond the counter, there is the Desk, where patients are checked in and taken to one of the examination areas by a healer. The windows are usually kept open for the flow of air, but there is both shutters to shut out dust storms, and curtains for other occasions.
On the perch is River Song.
Tuli is here.
Obvious exits:
Dragonhealer Yard Inner Caverns


Teya is: fairly young, fairly healthy, fairly stubborn when she wants to be. Which is why even though she is in the infirmary, it is upright, with a makeshift writing desk assembled in the vicinity of her cot, hides spread out on its top and a stylus in hand. This, not unfamiliar. The notable difference this time is that she has a sling across one shoulder and around the opposite side of her waist, not to keep an arm immobilized but to keep tiny nameless tucked close against her. She is also, because it is freaking winter and half of her clothes still don't fit, tucked into a pile of blankets.

Enter a fruit basket, with a woman. Tuli must have gone in for a custom order with someone in Nerat, because the basket is freaking ENORMOUS, towering high with a pineapple on top. Even the goldrider's rude muscular strength (considerable) has her muttering "Heavy heavy heavy HEAVY -" all the way to the bedside of her chosen target. Who is, dutifully, basketed, the ridiculous confection placed besides her bed. Only now is Tuli's grinning face revealed. "Teya." She obviously thinks she's done something to be proud of, bringing that basket.

"Fruit basket." Well, it's certainly better than many of the choice things Teya's rougher half calls the goldrider, if a little bit — puzzled. Puzzled which soon resolves into, "Tuli," because of course she does. "-that is amazing, how did you know?" She reaches out one-handed, still holding her stylus, to snag a redfruit and bite into it without preamble; says around the crunchy mouthful, "'m starving." Also, because important things: "Did you actually get your sandwich? I'm so sorry."

"I got it," which is immediately followed by the confession of, "I was too excited to eat it." The goldrider's standard loud brass is muted, out of respect for the infirmary, and also the potato-shaped proto-human at Teya's side. Tuli's pleasure at the success of her gift is palatable, but brief, for she is far too curious about THE BABY. This is coached, politely, in terms of: "How are the - two of you?"

"Tuli," is fond, exasperated, but also not at all accusatory: Teya is trying hard not to laugh, actually. "I'll forgive you, I would have been, too. I never even got to make mine." Because she was busy. As for how they're doing, she glances down, takes another bite of her redfruit, and says, "Hungry. I mean, that's terrible, but really we're both — he eats, he sleeps, he poops, he eats some more, and I am constantly hungry, it's worse than having been pregnant I swear to Faranth. Um." There is ink on her cheek, thanks to the stylus still in her hand; the other hand is busy sort of shoving ineffectually at the makeshift desk (it has wheels; they are, however, reluctant ones) as she asks, "You wanna hold him?"

"YES." Tuli was just waiting for that opportunity. With an effort, she does not simply say 'Gimme, gimme', but the way she reaches out for take THE BABY has subtle undertones of it. "I've been on pins and needles, waiting to see what you and K'ane have spawned. I hope he gets your temperament, at the least - and what are you naming him, by the by?"

"Oh good," is probably a little unflattering in its relief, but there is delight too: Teya's grin is tired, sure, but it is hella bright. "I think K'ane's still scared he'll do him some awful damage if he breathes wrong on him - here, gimme hand with this-" Despite asking for it, Teya doesn't wait to take it: she shoves the redfruit in her mouth (holds it with her teeth) and jams the stylus above her ear (it smears ink into her hair, but familiarly) so that she has both hands free to extract the baby from his sling. He protests, but mildly: a snuffle and a squeak because it is colder out here in the air, mom and a tiny vague yawn because he's not, apparently, done with his nap. In answer to Tuli's question, though, Teya says, "Mph vent."

Baby baby baby BABY. BABY! Tuli does know how to hold infants correctly, and how to correctly perform the passage of infants: see, here she is, holding her hands out to cradle the head FIRST, so that it may not loll uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, what?" the goldrider asks, distractedly. Because BABY. "Teya he looks like a tuber, what a cutie - I think that's your nose -"

BABY BABY BABY. Baby does that sort of vague baby thing where his eyes are half-open and pointed in the right general direction but he's obviously not actually, you know, processing Tuli as anything other than a blob of Warm; Teya, on the other hand, watches them both closely. There is a crunch, as she completes her bite, because it would be wasteful not to; she chews a couple of times before chipmunk-cheeking the bite and saying, "We haven't," around it, more clearly this time. There's probably a yet. And yet, the yet does not come. Boy, that's a delicious redfruit. "He kinda does, though."

Tuli is perfectly content to be a blob of Warm, nestling him comfortably against her chest. (It is not a maternal chest, alas. But she means well.) "What a cutie," is enthused. "He seems very alert!" Tuli is being generous. She is a generous woman. She is also, though, after a moment of processing - a frowning woman. "Teya." Scandal lurks in her tone. "You haven't named him? What in the name of little dragons are you waiting for?"

"Good lungs on him, too," is both an acknowledgement of the fact that he's a loud thing when he wants to be and, you know, an actual consideration given who Teya's twin is and his problems growing up; that her son has strong lungs is a relief in that respect. That her son continues to exist namelessly, well. Teya takes another bite of her redfruit (she is running out of redfruit) and muffles, "I didn't make a list," around it, which is uncharacteristic enough of the Queen of Lists that there was probably something subconscious about it; one shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. "An' K'ane said he's got us, so he don't - so he doesn't need one, and I've been," here she peters out, just a little, and more quietly admits, "afraid of getting it wrong."

"Teya." Disapproval is PRONOUNCED. "You can't just leave him unnamed. That's bad luck." Is it? Or is Tuli just talking out her ass? The goldrider gives the baby in her arms a frowning stare of concentration. "Teya and K'ane. Teyaschianniarina and Rikane. Um." THINK. "Tiki. Nirik. Yari. Richian. Stop me if any of these sound good yet."

"Is it?" This leaves Teya looking stricken, the uneven set of her mouth more pronounced; she leans forward to sort of STARE at the baby, and swallow hard. "Um. It has to have a k in it, I don't have a k, K'ane has everything else keep," hey, hey now hey: her reach and drag for a blank page is a bit of a scrabble, and she recovers her stylus from behind her ear with a jerk. "Going. It's a- he. He's a he. Are you sure it's bad luck?"

"It has to have a k. UM. Drat, I liked Yari and Richian." Tuli thinks. "That hick doesn't have to be represented, surely -" Pause. "Wait. Hickity? You have an 'h', he has a 'k'. Only - TEYA." With an effort, Tuli lowers her volume, carefully nestling Unnamed Baby Boy to keep him from being distressed. "Teya." She looks like something very clever has happened. "I have the perfect name."

"He wouldn't exist otherwise," Teya reminds with a frown, "and I do actually like him, so—" The brownrider pauses, tips her head at Tuli and starts to open her mouth again - surely, Teya, no, she wouldn't — but then stops. Instead of whatever she might have said, and with stylus poised above the sheet upon which she was just jumbling letters, she looks up at Tuli with eyes wide. Trusting. Excited. (Oh Teya). "Do you?"

"Rickety." Tuli beams, like she's done something clever.

"Rickety," Teya pronounces in echo, face joyous - then slightly confused. "Wait, Rickety?" But cosmic coincidence be damned: when Teya says it the second time little previously-nameless sque-eaks and stirs, one tiny hand flailing out of the swaddling to wave vaguely as he eh-eh-ehs and squirms. "Oh," Teya says this time, confusion melting into certainty, "I guess that settles it. Rickety, son of Teyaschianniarina and K'ane."

"So it shall be known," intones Tuli, officially. "Rickety. Here, lemme offer up this -" there is a bunch of grapes poking helpfully out of the fruit basket, and Tuli snatches one, dropping it under her foot and smooshing it solemnly "- grape, for good fortune in his days." And now that that's taken care of! "Here," she says, in a more normal voice, "I think he's probably hungry -" Baby TRANSFER TIME.

"-oh, excellent, there are grapes," interferes with the solemnity of the moment, but Teya at least waits until the offering has been squashed underfoot to say it. "I'll enter it in the records as soon as we're- oh!" There is a bit of a jumble, before stylus ends up back behind her ear again (smudge) and she has reclaimed Sir Squirmybritches, tucking him back into his sling and making sure he can find a FOOD DELIVERY VECTOR before he gets loud about it. "Thanks," is genuine, relieved even. Then she says, "Oh!" again and snatches the stylus back, pens a quick (neat, painfully neat) missive and sends it off with Guardy.

Delivery arrives with Guardy: a hide, loosely rolled and grasped in the gold's forepaws rather than in a message tube. The message is, for Teya, relatively to the point.

K'ane-

Tules says it's bad luck for him not to have a name. I don't want him to have bad luck.

His name's Rickety. He liked it.

I have a fruit basket. I'll share when you come pick up my hidework.

Much love,

Tey

"You can tell him I did HIS JOB FOR HIM by naming HIS SON," says Tuli, with some pride. "You know this means I'm claiming him as honorary nephew, right?" She leans against the little bedside table, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "With kidnappings, turnday presents, etc. That cute little bastard is mine." Her eyes gleam a little TOO enthusiastically. Elicheritath must be beginning to bestir herself, oh-so-gradually.

Teyaschianniarina's laughter is bright, the crooked line of her smile wide as she answers, "I told him you didn't want him to have bad luck." Rickety's hand smacks against Teya's skin, timing coincidental but her, "Exactly, little man," takes it as agreement. "What, you mean you weren't planning to already, regardless of his name? Tch, Tuli, I'm hurt." Such hurt! She manages woe-stricken for a moment, but it's a hard moment to maintain.

Ryglinath senses that: Elicheritath bestirs with a long, low buzzing. ZzzzT. CHKT! Then she settles. //Soon.

Ryglinath senses that: Dhioth is forever stoic, a fortress untouched… but do lichens eagerly green that which was silver-shot marble just a moment prior? Cracks show in the facade, chinks in the armor.

Ryglinath senses that: Kehemath drenches Dhioth's fortress in green-tinted algae water. Bested. BESTED BY GREENS. Then she hides from Elicheritath.

Ryglinath senses that: Ryglinath's unease is palpable; a hitch in the eternally-even one-two stride, a strangled — oh, a strangled - painfully polite chuff of sound. A mental throat-clear, if you will.

Ryglinath senses that: Jafyth thinks you are all too noisy. Kids these days. Hnph. *ZzZzzzzzzz*

Ryglinath senses that: Itzquintlith had been resting, so close to sleep that his eyeridges were fully closed, mental awareness largely shut off. But who could resist such a sound as all of that? Specifically the first one; the beginning much more impressive than most of the following chorus. The birdsong kicks up again — not so controlled and subtle as Dhioth, there's a decided rhythm to it that hasn't been heard since Jivayath rose.

Ryglinath senses that: Jivayath who is very, very pointedly Not Here. There is a decided absence of Jivayath — though from far, far away her mind touches a few of her favorite bronzes, and Elicheritath: have fun, fly strong. And she's gone.

Ryglinath senses that: Zateriyath is a breeze, a gentle one - but a blast of desert heat none the less, the acrid tang of ozone on the air after a burst of heat lightning.//

"Well, I was, but…" Tuli is beginning to grow distracted. Absently, she says, "You should probably tell Ryggles to hightail it out, if he's still scared of El - uh, and because you're in no shape for a flight…" before reaching down to seize a handful of grapes for herself. "ANYWAY. Of course I'm stealing your baby. Never fear."

"Oh," Teya says, the sound entirely too pragmatic for the subject matter, "that's what that is. I thought it felt familiar but I couldn't quite," not that she's unfamiliar with goldflights; but by this point Ryglinath is generally inclined to have them already hauled off somewhere. "Put my finger on it. You need anything?" Because this is what you ask your best friend whose dragon is about to fly, apparently. Her eyes glaze faintly as she waits for the answer, then clear. Ryglinath out.

"Just to go and get a blunt weapon." That's a bad sign. With a smile, but without further commentary, Tuli is suddenly pivoting on her heel, and marching hastily out. That's a bad sign, too.

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