Who

Nevik, Kultir

What

Kultir and Nevik idly talk about the day's events while the young healer attempts to keep his new flit from eating his fingers.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Living Caverns

Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophobia. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the Weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.

The glowbaskets are lighted and illuminate the room beautifully.


It's late and most of the staff have already finished their chores and have gone back to their quarters for the evening. The lamps are burning low, the glow baskets are only dimly glowing but not so darkly that one can not see. Some might say that the room has 'ambiance' and the few who are gathered seem to be clustered in pairs or triplets here or there. One of those who is enjoying a bit of solitude is Nevik, the novice Healer. Seated at the end of one of the benches, he is busily feeding his young bronze dragonette. The young creature is still small and is probably having one of its evening moments of absolute starvation. As the bronze 'stalks' the offered hunk of meat, Nevik offers another while enjoying a rest from a very, very long day.

Kultir slips quietly into the caverns and drops his pack where it will be out of the way of people trying to walk in and out before he hangs his oiled cloak to drip from one of the pegs near the door. Running his hands through his hair, he slicks the water-darkened sandy-brown locks back from his face. With a weary sigh, he moves toward the trestles where there are still foodstuffs on offer for those who are eating out of mealtime. Gathering a good amount of the items both hot and cold, the young man snags, utensils, an empty mug and a whole carafe of klah to take back to a table with him. Finding a close, empty spot, the tracker slumps down into the chair so that he can tuck into his belated supper.

Nevik continues feeding the bronze, offering him one finger-length of roasted meat at a time. As Kultir enters he leans up from resting his head upon his arm and offers a wave to the Tracker. "Evening…" he intones politely and doesn't realize that the bronze believes that the last 'finger' is the one belonging to his human-pet. "HEY!" the Healer barks, "Not the pink bits!" and baps at the bronze that seems confused and still hungry. With an empty plate before him, there's nothing for it but to get up and find more. "Come on you worthless lizard," he mutters to himself and puts his arm out to allow the Bronze to crawl up his sleeve and perch on his neck. "Not so tight!" he orders as the dragonette wraps his tail around Nevik's throat a bit too snugly.

Kultir glances up at the greeting, smiling at the young Healer and nods as he pours himself a mug of klah. "Evening." The young man scrapes up another bite and nearly chokes at the boy's scolding of the firelizard. Golden eyes sparkle with amusement as he chews that big mouthful and washes it down with a long swallow of the steaming liquid. "Might want him to bury his snout in the food instead of feeding him. Keeps the fingers intact longer." A slight shrug of the shoulder indicates the young man has no experience in the care and feeding of firelizards even if he does share his bed with one … reluctantly.

Nevik turns after grabbing another bowl of meat for the bronze who is churrling happily, greedily. You'd swear that if it were possible to have an actual conversation with the creature it would be no surprise to hear him saying 'gimmie gimmie gimmie'. The suggestion of allowing the bronze to feed himself had never occurred to the boy - he had always seen others feeding their flits from their hand. Knowing his luck - it's not surprise that HIS fire lizard would be…difficult. Walking back over to a seat close to Kultir he asks, "Mind if I join you?" There's a faint pause — just long enough to look for a nod or a glance while the man is eating before slipping onto the bench. As soon as he puts the bowl before him the bronze nearly pounces upon it before he can move his hands back. Fatigue and temper get the better of him and in a firm, clear voice he says and thinks 'NO' to the creature … … who stops. The bronze, only inches away from the bowl stops dead in its tracks and turns to look at Nevik with the most confused and perplexed expression upon his face. Quirking its head to one side in a questioning manner, Akron seems to wait for permission — or clarification. "Wait…" he explains in a more calm voice and slides the bowl to the flit and nods, "…now." Well, there's no needing for a second word as the bronze nearly dives into the roasted meat bits happily.

An absent nod is given as the tracker eats in neat, quick bites, almost as if the food might disappear from his plate before he can fill his stomach. Catching sight of the bowl and firelizard from the corner of his eye, he sits up and watches with a smile quirking his lips at the quizzical expression on that little draconic face. Kultir chuckles softly as the little lizard dives on the scraps and shakes his head in amusement. "That'll keep him from taking your fingers off till he isn't eating his weight at one sitting. Then you can feed him and teach him to be gentle … at least that's how Kalea fed and trained hers. I don't have one so no idea what you should do with it." A few more bites are taken before the young man sits back in his chair for a long drink of klah and looks the youth over. "You look beat. Long day?"

Nevik nods silently, one of those face-shaking nods not just a chin-waggle. "So many wounded coming in from Thread Fall. We had another batch come in the other day and a lot of or stocks are running low so we're trying to treat things a bit more sparingly." He begins and leans back to shift his weight on the bench a little so that he can see both the bronze, the half-eaten bowl and the Tracker without having to constantly switch his view. "And I heard one of the senior Healers say that the Sea Hold at Black Rock was hit too. Nothing as bad as what they saw around Azov but still…" It would seem that even speaking is starting to tire him out a little. Not physically tired, though there is a hint of that in his voice, its mental exhaustion. As a novice healer he's not assigned a lot of patients but he's the gopher for a lot…a LOT of other healers. "How have you been?"

Kultir groans softly and nods. "Yeah … not good. You got any ground crew in? Or you just dealing with riders?" The young man's voice doesn't show his own weariness but it is evident in his face which is a bit more haggard than a nineteen Turn old should be and his soot-streaked clothing. At the mention of the Sea Hold being hit, the tracker has to shrug. "I didn't see that … was further out from there." Heaving a sigh, he leans forward to refill his mug from the claimed carafe and takes a long swallow. "Eh … could be worse, right? Could be one of those brought in to the Infirmary."

Nevik hrms and thinks about it, "Yeah…I think there are a few ground crew — mild burns from a busted AgeeNOthree tank I…think." Absently stroking the back of the bronze now that the creature has finished its second bowl of food, the healer seems happy to just…be, for a while. No one in pain. No one needing him to fetch this or that. He can just sit and pet a firelizard. "Anything drawing you out of the forest into the weyr…er…wait…that didn't come out right," he begins and then has to reconsider his words. Fatigue is starting to set in and he's in the half-ramble half-thinking phase of sleep. "Anything interesting going on for you tomorrow?"

Kultir snorts at the information and nods. "Yeah, they were lucky to just get mild burns from it then." The young man scrapes up the last few bites of his food and crams it into his mouth to chew slowly. At the stumbling question, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. "No, nothing interesting. More of my usual between Fall chores and work for me tomorrow. Got several skins I need to finish working provided the rain hasn't ruined them." Settling back into his chair, he rests his elbow on the edge of the table and sips his klah slowly. "Why do you ask?"

Nevik sloshes his head back and forth as his eyes begin to droop, "I uh huh…" which comes out as something close to 'I don't know' but in a slurred, half-sleepy voice. "I…think I need to get back to the dorms…Tracker." And he pushes himself up from the table. The bronze, who was coiled in a lump before him, wakes just enough to see his human-pet starting to move and squawks a 'don't leave me' warning. The Healer extends his arm and the bronze scampers up and finds purchase upon his shoulder. "If you'll forgive me…" he apologizes and trundles towards an exit.

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