Terrian, Thierry


Thierry visits Terrian after he's wounded in the bazaar purge. Not surprisingly, they rub each other the wrong way.


It is evening of the third day of the fourth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Weyr Infirmary

OOC Date


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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.

Most of the injuries from the raid have taken themselves out of the infirmary proper, leaving only those who really hurt behind. Terrian is among those few, though from the angry looks he is getting from the healer on duty, he is being a difficult really hurt person. He's standing next to a bunk, slowly pulling on pants to cover the looser dress-like fabrics that the healers force upon them. No shirt covers his torso, instead tightly wound bandages hug his chest from mid rib downwards onto his stomach. He moves slowly, and his face is white from the pain of bending that torso.

What perfect timing for visitors! Thierry struts on past the Healers on duty, bouncing a little cloth-wrapped bundle in one hand, while soothing a squalling gold firelizard with the other. She's draped around his neck and making unhappy hissing sounds at everything she passes as he makes a beeline towards Terrian, pausing a few steps away from his cot to smirk, cross-armed, at his bandaged torso. "Gotcha good, huh?"

Terrian finally gets the pants all of the way up, and turns slowly towards the cocky voice ringing out. "Thierry." Flat, emotionless. "You need something?" Clearly the older guard recruit's almost endless patience does not extend to bratty bazaar boys who have high opinions of themselves. Not when moving too fast would help break the stitches in his side and cause blood come pouring out again.

"Only a good laugh." Thierry's nose wrinkles in his attempt to not smirk. "I gotcha something." That little wrapped bundle in his hand is held out, dangled between his thumb and forefinger. "Din't know what you'd like, so I guessed. You oughta sit, or summat. You're looking like shit." He sidles in closer, still trying to soothe his noisy pet - the healers are giving him /looks/. He gives them right /back/. "What happened, huh?"

Terrian eyes the package in Thierry's hand, then flicks his own gaze at the healers looking oh-so-disapproving. "I'm sharding done sittin', be on my arse the last two days." He'll carefully fasten the ties on the pants, drawing them tightly together before reaching out for the bundle. "Too busy ducking one idiot and got shafted by another in that rider's raid."

"It's a redfruit." So nothing /too/ fancy in the little bundle, but it's the thought that counts, right? Thierry finally gets Snake to shut up, and he's able to cross his arms across his chest now that his hands are unoccupied. "Wish I coulda been in there with you lot. Knocked one guy down, but it ain't the same when you're sorta… on the sidelines." His nose wrinkles this time in distaste for his less-than-involved role. "Woulda been right in there. Mebbe I might've even stuck with you, huh? Stopped that from happening, been a hero all over again…"

Terrian takes the fruit, and lays it on the bed, not opening it up. Thierry gets a bit of a stink eye as he bends down to retrieve the shirt that had fallen. A hiss comes from Terrian's lips, through clenched teeth as the move puts strain on all the wrong places. "That's a sharding stupid reason to want to be in the middle of a knife fight when all you got is a stick."

"Fuck's sake, sit." Thierry sweeps on in there to grab the shirt, giving Terrian a gentle shove towards the cot. He offers it to him, while Snake spits and hisses at the injured guard from her shoulder perch. "Who said I woulda just had a stick, huh? Dontcha carry anything else on you?" A quick bend down has Thi pulling a dark-handled knife from his boot; it's lifted a few inches, then tucked away again. "What about that canine of yours?"

Terrian straightens up slowly, one hand on the bed to steady himself against the sharpness running from under the bandages. "Point wasn't to shive anyone kid," yeah, Terrian may only be four turns older, but he's going to play that card. He doesn't sit, but he does lean against the bed as the shirt is pulled carefully over his head and settled down to hide the bandages. The only sign now, other then the bulkyness of his chest, of his injuries are the bruises every guard picked up that night. "Orders were to push them to the riders with as few as possible gettin' hurt."

Thierry's eyes narrow slightly, and he shakes his head. "I weren't just talking about the other night, Terr." Yes, despite his dislike of it, the nickname's stuck in Thierry's vocab. "You oughta have one all the shardin' time. Never know when you're gonna need it, yeah?" He digs his hands into his pockets, rocking onto the balls of his feet. "Take it from someone who knows, yeah? Those're /my/ streets. You ain't got to know 'em yet."

Terrian is going to just stare at Thierry for long moments. Waiting for him to finish the lecture. "You done kid?"

Thierry's jaw takes ona stubborn set, lips pursed. "Dunno. You listening, grandpa?"

"I've been guardin' caravans since I was a kid. Seen more then you probably ever would be able, unless you impress one of those dragons." Terrian folds his arms across his chest as he leans against the bed. His low gravly voice rolls on, some of the relaxation missing as the pain in his side still rings out. Guess who refused the numbweed and fellis the healers tried to press on him? "Your bazaar ain't any more dangerous then a sandstorm out of no where, nor a blizzard in the winter. People are simple. They got somethin' they want. Get them that, and they ain't goin' to make no trouble. If you got it right, don't need no kife."

"Always gotta pull that 'I done caravans' shit." Thierry snorts, scratching at his nose as he shakes his head. "Bazaar ain't a caravan. Bazaar-folk ain't caravanners. 'cept for us being /people/, we got nothing in common with them lot. All's I'm trying to do is tell you shit about /my/ turf, and you're too fucking up your own sharding arse to listen." He keeps his words to a low hiss, very wary of the Healers around them and their likely reaction, if he were to raise his voice.

Terrian's not about to rise to the kid's bait, and if it didn't hurt so much to move, he would probably take his leave. Instead, as Thierry gets worked up Terrian calms down, his arms crossing across his chest as a wry sardonic grin splits his lips. "From what I'm learnin', you and and you all aren't too far removed from the caravans. Most of them figure you ain't got enough spunk for the road. But" He'll unfold one hand to hold it up to forestall the denial and vitriol the boy is likely to throw at this, "they got fight. Still wasn't about to shiv someone with orders given not to."

Thierry's arms cross over his chest again, brows beetled low over his eyes as he frowns at the older recruit. "Road's fucking stupid anyway. Who the fuck'd want to live like that?" If he could turn his head to spit he would - but the wrath of the Healers is not something he wants to call down upon himself. "Would've shanked 'em. Them Holdless fuckers aren't /my/ people."

"That's why you wouldn't last long in the guard kid." Terrian finally pushes himself up from the bed, another small wince crossing his face. He reaches over for the redfruit then moves carefully to the edge of the bed, eyeing a healer who is about to tell him to stop moving. The eye is enough to convince the healer he isn't about to stop the guard recruit from his motion. "We ain't here to be heroes. Save that for the riders. Jobs to keep people safe, meanin' everyone, even that holdless lot."

"I'll do fucking awesome in the guard, Terr." Thierry's hands dig into his pockets again, while he scowls at the injured guard. "You wait. I'll drop this white knot and get promoted over your sorry arse, fuck over all them girls, too." Snake hisses, and he raises a hand to soothe her. "Mebbe you oughta go back to them thread-riddled vans of yours, huh, vanner? Don't reckon you've got a bazaar welcome coming any time soon."

Terrian smiles sardonicly at that, that eyebrow of his twitching upwards as he picks up the scarred baton that had been carried on his unconcious form into the infirmay the days before. "Bet you wouldn't drop that knot to follow through on that." He begins to thread the loop through his belt, slowly and carefully without allowing the wooden stick to swing too much.

"Eggs'll hatch soon enough, and I'll be back in them barracks with you." Not that he ever stayed in the barracks before. Thierry's just making a point. "You checking outta here? Can't be ready to go yet, y'still practically bleeding shit."

Terrian lets out a laugh, which cuts off abruptly when the laugh causes more pain. He hisses in the a breath, holds it a moment, then lets it go. "So long as I ain't about to keel over, I ain't stayin' here." The belt is placed around his waist, the baton hanging neatly to one side now, and tightened up. "Figure I can do babysittin' as well as someone what isn't banged up."

"Yeah, well, mebbe you /will/ keel over, getcha ass dragged back in here." Thierry's being childishly stubborn now - and just a bit jealous, too. He wants to be out there. "You gonna go get nursed by all them girl-guards? Have 'em fawning all over you, bent over, flashing their tits and shit? Betcha you're gonna milk it with 'em. Big bad guardy-guy gonna go get seen to by the guard-bitches."

"What you got against women anyway?" Terrian is taking a breather before actually setting out back down into the bazaar, and he props himself against the bed to eye the teenager a bit sardonicly. "They good enough to warm your bed, but ain't good enough to anythin' else?"

Thierry shrugs. "They got no business in the guard. Don't care if they're good at it or not." But at least he's admitted that some of them might be ok at their new job? "Oughta be makin' babies. That's what women are for - making babies, making sandwiches, making clothes. /Home/ shit. Not out in the streets beat your ass shit. I ain't gonna handfast no lady-guard."

"You hook up with one of those eggs out on the sand and you ain't handfastin' no one kid." Terrian pushes up from his leaning, and takes a careful breath. When it doesn't cause pain to lance as badly as before he'll start taking slow steps away from Thierry. "Thanks for the fruit kid."

"I'm not a fucking /kid/, grandpa." Thierry lets Terrian past, trailing a few steps behind him towards the door into the lower caverns. "And I ain't Impressing no dragon. I'm doing this cos I was /told/ to, not cos I got /potential/." Snake hisses again then, snapping at the air when they pass a Healer. "I'm coming back to the bazaar. It's where I belong."

"Right." The sarcasm is heavy in Terrian's voice as he ambles, slowly and more than a bit painfully out of the infirm. "I think I'll be layin' marks on you impressin' just for that kid. Bazaar might not be a place for you after bein' pampered up here."

"Yeah, fuck you. 'S more my home than it'll ever be yours." Thierry has the advantage of being able to walk more quickly than the injured guard, and he sidesteps around him, turning back to glare at him. "Don't waste your marks. I'll be back and kicking your grandpa arse before you know it." And away he stomps, out into the inner caverns to leave Terrian to hobble his way out of there, alone.

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