Who

Sienna, Mayte, K'vvan, R'xim, Fasai, Finn, E'bert, F'dan

What

What began as normal sweeps ends in disaster: Sienna and F'dan arrive in the Weyrbowl with chunks ripped out of them. K'vvan and R'xim come to the rescue, Mayte directs affairs, Fasai is a soothing influence, Finn and E'bert help as much as they can and are shouted at for their troubles.

profanity, graphic aftermath of violence

When

It is sunset of the sixteenth day of the seventh month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

It is the seventy-sixth day of Summer and 120 degrees. A cloud appears on the horizon, familiar to Igen natives, swelling across the blue skies quickly. Sand blows across the weyr, pelting everyone and everything until it blows itself out. The fine sands, raised by the strong winds, penetrates the ears, eyes, nose, and throat.

Where

Central Bowl, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Central Bowl

Cradled, childlike, in an easterly mountainous embrace, the steppes of the central bowl nestle cozily between lake and weyr. The latticework of dusty adobe paths spider out from the southerly Weyr Road, the wagon-ruts of which curve lazily to the northeastern bazaar, the adobe sprawl of the New Weyr reflected in the lake that dominates a large portion of outdoor Igen. A small footpath, just as abused, ambles away from the shores, travelling over rock and hill to the northern dragonet complex and branching itself due west to end at the entrance of the blessedly cool inner caverns. One cracked path, faint with disuse, leads southeast to the crumbling ruins of Igen-that-was. All around, the dizzying heights of the caldera's sharp-sloped sides are pocked here and there with ledges, the weyrs' draconic occupants needing no path to guide their way.


One moment the sky above the Weyr is clear, and the next there is pandemonium. A huge nowtime bronze flicks in from between far lower than normal and suddenly the sky is rent with a screech that rattles the bones of anyone in hearing distance. The sound is loud enough to wake people in the bazaar, to set the babies in the creche crying, to send a chill through any rider who hears it. Kadanth may be quiet, but not today: he broadcasts pain and terror, searching for an empty spot to land – though he won't search very long. Get out of the way, Igen.

Three heartbeats later - far too long. Far, /far/ too long, a forest hued oldtime green appears and drops after the bronze, the acrid scent of burning sage and rosemary broadcast to those nearby before she very nearly crash lands into the bowl floor.

In a few short hours, Rosie's will be bustling and alive with the happy sort of business. Until then, common chores must need be done- and the girls at that fine establishment aren't the well-heeled sort who can get away with ordering drudges about to handle them. Thus: Fasai is one of those crossing the bowl just before chaos is introduced. Draped in sage and buttery yellow, with bells chiming at her ankles, she balances a woven wicker basket atop her head with the help of very spongey hair and one supporting hand. The contents of that basket are a mystery right up until the moment when suddenly there are dragons. Not quite at the center of the impact zone but still near enough, the woman throws herself to the side onto the ground and the basket topples- leaving translucent and rather shimmery underthings to be picked up by the roiling winds caused by wings being slashed at the air.

Kadanth's normally placid mindscape is distorted with terror, the ancient forest rent with furious winds. No words, only panic and flashes of blood and teeth, a primal thought-rending fear that aches in the mind of any dragon that hears it.

R'xim has been waiting in the central bowl with Shalnth for what seems like a very long time. When Kadanth finally winks into plain sight, the bronzer inhales a sharp breath as the bellow across Igen is heard. "Come on, come on…" Waiting for the pair to land, Rix is prepared to witness some blood, something he usually can't stand. But, tonight he's prepared to haul F'dan off that dragon no matter how bad it is. Shalnth is near by, wings flared and eyes whirling a distressed orange as his clutch brother soars in their direction. "Steady now!"

Was K'vvan doing anything interesting? Of course he wasn't (he probably was) but that doesn't matter. The second that bloodsoaked forest spatters across Nadeeth's silks and ribbons K'vvan is dropping everything. Nadeeth beats him to the bowl, darting in to get close to her friend (Kehemath) and see if she might help keep her upright, her thoughts knots of support and strength. K'vvan is not far behind, exiting from Matye's ledge, his shirt untucked and boots untied. "Sienna! What the f*ck happened?" He's not going to stop till he's right at Kehemath's side looking upwards and ready to do whatever needs done.

Finn learned over a turn ago that hand-carts were the way to go when criss-crossing the grounds that dragons tread. Runners. The dragons scared them something fierce. And something like Kadanth bursting into the air screaming might have sent a runner into apoplexy. SHARDS. Finn's heart is in his throat as the shattering entry and the cold sweep of chilled air from ::between:: gusts past the trader as he flinches away from that ear-splitting re-entry. The near-crash landing of the green has him flinching again. A woman tumbles nearby and, untraderlike, abandons his cart to rush over to her, light eyes trained on the dragons as they settle.

Thank Faranth that Fasai dodged out of the way because Kadanth crashes down far too close to her for comfort. A twist of his head and he roars at the woman and her new-found protector, suddenly the normality of everyday exposure stripped away to reveal him as an extremely large, extremely agitated predator with huge teeth. The call fades only in the presence of Shalnth, Kadanth turning on his clutch brother with terror-stricken eyes. No luck for K'vvan finding Sienna on her lifemate's neck: instead F'dan holds Sienna in his arms atop Kadanth. Only the woman is strapped on, F'dan clutching her for dear life. No flight helmets, flying jackets unfastened, and so much blood everywhere that it's hard to see what's happening. The landing seems to have dazed F'dan and he's motionless as the dead, face buried in Sienna's neck.

Alas, Sienna isn't /on/ Kehemath. That's a sign right there that something is terribly, terribly wrong. Buckled into Kadanth's straps, the blood-soaked greenrider is also dazed, hunched over a bronze neckridge. Kehemath barely nuzzles Nadeeth before she's limping to Kadanth's side, peering upwards and crooning in agitated concern.

Kehemath's thoughts are twisted forest branches ablaze with orange, red and yellow fire. Pain on the edge of panic, the green barely holds herself together as her rider seems to hover on the edge of consciousness.

Fasai looks like a tumbled heap of laundry, herself. Just a puddle of twitching cloth on the ground, as Kadanth's roaring breath washes over her and she's stricken with the ultimate in terror. Layers and robes? Not the best when every instinct is screaming 'run away!'. She does manage to kick at the dusty ground with her heels, slap at it with her hands, but actual locomotion is limited- there's no coordinating, when caught up in that level of fear. But there's Finn and dark eyes flash at him, white-rimmed, when he appears to provide a convenient target to clutch at. It's a credit to the mind behind those fathomless eyes that when she stutters out a statement that is not indecipherable nonsense but rather: "…b-blood, ban…bandages…" If only there was a large quantity of loose cloth just fluttering around…

It didn't take K'vvan long to figure out that there was something MISSING from Kehemath's back. His frown of worry deepens as he has to look around for where Sienna actually IS. Nadeeth catches sight first and relays to her rider. His pace picks up to the bronze's side and scowls upwards. "What the f*ck?" But it's clear that no one is quite aware, so instead he directs his words to the other rider (R'ixm) on the scene. "You grab him when he falls," and he's climbing upwards on the bronze just assuming that dragon isn't going to mind. First step, get riders off.

R'xim is on a dead run once Kadanth lands, Shalnth moving in close behind to make contact with his clutch brother. "F'dan!" Grabbing at leather straps and looking upward for signs of movement, Rix is preparing to climb. Seconds drag on before he's able to determine that F'dan is conscious and holding someone in his blood soaked arms. The image is enough to motivate R'xim to move, but not before K'vvan starts climbing up the straps. "Someone get the healers!" is bellowed to those standing close by. Nodding to the greenrider, Rix stands ready, locking eyes with F'dan's body. There isn't time to protest, there's barely enough time to act.

Rhiscorath comes charging from the North Bowl, passing her rider on the way, leaving a trail of sand behind her. Mayte is hot on K'vvan's heels, tucking her hair into some skewed version of a pony tail, and shouting, usefully, "What the fuck?" Once she gets close, the junior will actually stop and assess. She overhears a word: "Yes! Bandages! Lots of those!" A few seconds later, "Healers! And dragonhealers! Go!" to someone just standing around looking perplexed. She'll just gather some of those… bandages up. She's not even looking at them to understand what they are that she's holding. Next to R'xim, Mayte watches K'vvan and the two injured riders, handing a… bandage to R'xim: "Be ready for whatever," she says woodenly, not even looking at the taller man. Meanwhile, Rhiscorath is going to work, trying to comfort not one, not two, but THREE dragons. You boys are going to owe her…

And then K'vvan pushes F'dan off. Sorry if you didn't like that F'dan.

Kadanth allows K'vvan to climb his straps, but it's a narrow thing: terror threatens to overwhelm the rational self that knows his lifemate needs help, leaving the bronze shifting on his feet and snapping at the air, held from further violence only by the presence of Rhiscorath. It's going to be a bumpy climb for K'vvan, but an even bumpier one for F'dan. His eyes are open but he doesn't respond at all to the sight of K'vvan, pushed to one side as easily as a rag doll. R'xim had better be ready to catch, because F'dan's falling hard and it's a long way down. A lot of blood falls with him, some still pumping from his hand which – better not look there, something awful has happened. More gouges over his chest, a bleeding bump on his head, an apparently broken nose. A bad day for F'dan all round.

The commotion has sent healers running from the dragonhealer's yard. In the forefront of the healers is the newly minted trainee E'bert. The young brownrider wastes no time as he drops a backboard that's more than long enough to be used as a stretcher. Next he's running back as the more experienced healers move in to take the injured, when E'bert returns it's at a run with a basket full of bandages, redwort, numbweed, and other possibly needed accutrements.

Sienna will just wait up here then, buckled into the straps. Kehemath squirms with the presence of all the other dragons, pressing close to Kadanth's side, her mind getting swept up in all the agitation and fear. She whines, low and pulsing and worried, latching onto Nadeeth's knots like a lifeline. Pain. There is so much pain it's blinding and weak. Draining.

Speaking of owing, Fasai's eyes cut towards the goldrider's hands, dripping with very delicate, very gauzy and very expensive pieces of Weaver's delight. If her face weren't already the very image of shock and dismay… "I…I know some healing," she says - or she thinks she says. It's so hard to tell, rattled and adrenaline-flushed as the young woman still is. Was that in her outside voice? Only those nearby will be able to confirm, though with the introduction of speedy, speedy healers arriving on scene, it is rather a moot point! Still, with each second that ticks by, she's a little less limp in the limb regions, finally managing to pull herself up to a wobbly standing position. Her gaze casts over the dragons and those crawling over them, to F'dan cradled just a few feet away. She swallows, hard. And then, with a decided lack of conviction, she steps forward to provide an extra pair of hands.

R'xim braces for impact, standing ready to catch F'dan as he falls toward the bowl. Turns of athleticism and sheer strength have properly equipped Rix for this very moment because he's able to catch the falling bronzerider without so much as a stumble. Legs are positioned to absorb most of the weight and R'xim immediately starts to gather F'dan into his arms. Blood is everywhere: on his clothes, on his face, arms… Mayte is barely acknowledged before he finally lifts F'dan, keeping the bloody hand close to his chest for any amount of pressure to be applied. "I need a fucking Healer!" he bellows, hurrying toward the Infirmary. There's no time to wait with little movement coming from the injured rider. For all R'xim knows, the man has already passed out.

"Here, put him here," one of the healers calls, "You, get pressure on the wound, and ah yes numbweed," E'bert's already in position to start applying pressure, a silent command to the circling brown firelizard has the tiny beast disappearing only to have more healers pouring out towards the gathered, "Keep him still, let us do our job," the healer that called says calmly. Karkath has already reached his total lack of mindscape around the panicked dragons. Unflappable would be a good way to describe the brown dragon just now.

F'dan hasn't passed out. In fact F'dan is feeling more conscious all the time. He wishes he didn't given how much it hurts, but he does. The injured hand quivers in the healer's before F'dan decides against moving it, white-hot pain lancing down his entire arm, body contorting with agony. “Let me the fuck up. Let me up. Sienna – Rix, you have to get Sienna. You have to. I'm not sure she's – W'rin. You need to call W'rin.” That's shouted at anyone nearby, F'dan having a serious go at getting himself up and off the stretcher. Screw blood loss, screw the fact he has two fingers on his left hand (plus a few that aren't entirely disconnected – yet): Sienna is there, and he thinks she's dying.

With the bronzerider out of the way, K'vvan can finally focus on Sienna. His hands fumble a bit as he pulls himself up behind her where F'dan was sitting to reach his arms around her. "Mayte, I'm going to try to get her down without jarring…. YOU." His eyes sweep over the bowl to land on a pair of non-riders sitting around. "Get the f*ck over here and help Mayte catch her when she falls." Straps are undone, though it's rocky because the stupid bronze won't sit still. "Mayte, get Rhis to tell him to f*cking STOP IT or Sienna's not going to fall straight." It's snapped as he reaches out to Nadeeth. She at least can work on Kehemath and does so. Gently she'll nudge herself inwards, those ribbons lengthening and becoming touch even as the pain of the pair seeks to tear them apart.

Lips peeling back in a worried, fearful grimace, Finn attempts to shield Fasai ineffectually. Ineffectually because if Kadanth did take it in mind to gnash either one of them those pale, dusty robes and lean musculature would be a gesture of defense at best. Jaw muscles lace as Finn's mouth snaps shut with a nod, offering Fasai a hand up and then hustling away to collect 'bandages.' Heart pumping he registers Rhiscorath and her rider's appearance with some relief. Moving quickly with a shimmery armload of impromptu bandages - sorry Fasai - he rushes to the dragons, moving warily around their large teeth and lashing wings. Stand where the riders are. A sort of instinct. He freezes, that wild bronze… he knows it. Kadanth. But that's not F'dan riding it's a … woman? Finn makes himself useful in whatever way possible after he shakes himself out of the moment of recognition.

The Weyr provides, but does it provide frilly underthings? We'll talk. Once R'xim has hold of F'dan and is rushing off, Mayte swears - she checks over her shoulder but recognizes one of the Healers and turns back, "Now Sienna." She's still watching up for the female rider. Rhis is silent and solid, the doors of her library flung open, silent and welcoming for all who would accept its forest of books. Dragonhealers swarm around, but Mayte shouts back up, "I'll be fine, just get her down there." At K'vvan's words, she looks to Rhiscorath who moves close and projects that calm at Kadanth with the weight of several books behind it. "Bring her down, we'll be okay."

Sienna cries out in pain when she's moved, and with her almost completely covered in blood it's impossible to tell so far where and what her injuries are. Kehemath fights against the calming of the other dragons, rearing up onto her hind legs to brace against Kadanth's side, twisting a paw and holding it out. Put her here, don't just DROP her. "K'vvan?" she whimpers. "F'dan!" That's hollered - or tried to. "Did…where…" He didn't fall off did he?

Kadanth is about to get a lot more difficult to control: with his lifemate being taken away from him he rages against his enforced stillness, screaming rage at anyone who comes close. Finn, Fasai, Mayte, E'bert: all of them are targets of his terror and anger. It's only Rhiscorath's heavy mindpresence that forces him to stay still, the panic still radiating off him but his movements quietened. He lowers his head towards the ground, swinging it side to side in distress, and suddenly it is visible that the hide over his jaw and eyeridges is scraped raw, ichor dripping through the bronze.

Shalnth is side stepping and trying his very hardest to calm and soothe Kadanth during the stress and chaos unfolding around them. Massive bronze limbs step around his clutch brother while his eyes whirl calming colors of blue and green to help Kadanth feel comforted. Meanwhile, R'xim doesn't hesitate to surrender F'dan into E'bert's care. The healers swarm around them and R'xim is unable to help, except when it comes time to restrain F'dan. "Fen, stop. She's fine, stay down." Hands reach out to press the bronzer back down before raging eyes glare at a nearby healer. "Get him some fellis, knock him out… That's the only way he's going to stop."

What, get closer to the antsy bronze? Fasai has volunteered herself to help but nuh uh. Luckily for her, with both Mayte and Kehemath in the way to serve in catching duty, she might be able to escape K'vaan's orders. And…slide over this way, towards R'xim. She has no fellis, no hammer to knock the bronzerider out, but hearing R'xim's plea, she slides in on the other side of F'dan- her scarf has been pulled from her head and wadded up, to press against those welling gouges on the man's chest- and says, "They're seeing to her now, she's alive. The woman is alive, sir, you need to settle now. You saw her home safely." The calm tone is at complete odds with the chalky grey tint that has sapped the warm notes of her complexion.

"He's fine Sienna." At least, K'vvan is going to assume that the bloody rider he shoved off is F'dan. "The healers have him. Rhis is holding his dragon down, we're going to get you down. Can you hold on to Kehemath so we don't have to drop you?" Hopefully she can. Because dropping works better when someone is close to unconcious. His voice is tight, but still holds that slightly authorative tone. "Ready Mayte?"

How many healers can the Weyr scramble when it needs to? A lot more than you'd think. Several grim-faced professionals have clustered around Mayte, stretcher and bandages (many of them very … lacy) and pots of numbweed at the ready. Morbidly they seem to be shouting out potential diagnoses — none of which in Sienna's case sound very good.

F'dan has never been able to fight against R'xim very well, and pale with blood loss and agitated with shock he's putting up an even worse fight than usual. The healers stay back as F'dan struggles, though one of them is preparing a hefty dose of fellis. His eyes are wide and white with terror. "No, no, no. No fellis. I have to see her. I have to. Rix. Please." His eyes are big and desperate, and it's lucky for Rix that they soon settle on — a woman, speaking with incredible calm. F'dan blinks at her. "I don't — her weyrmate. You need to call him."

Sienna whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Make it stop. Please… She shifts to the side, sliding onto Kehemath's paw while the green attempts to hold herself steady against the protesting Kadanth. Her forest presses tightly against his. « Hold still, please, please. » She drops onto three limbs with Sienna held in her paw, and that jarring landing is what has Sienna gasping in pain. "F'dan!" Then she passes out. Kehemath roars her distress and if Rhiscorath weren't there it'd be a different story. As it is the green lets - barely - the Healers approach. But she's growling at them.

R'xim's eyes lift to rage at Fasai, but as the woman speaks to F'dan, something prevents him from going off on her. Her voice is offering comfort during a time when his cannot. Still crouching, Rix shifts around a bit to assist the healers any way he can. The amount of blood covering both he and F'dan is horrific, though it doesn't seem to be phasing him at all. His mind is a constant blur of morbid thoughts, all of which aren't helping his nerves. Shalnth is stretched thin in his mind and hints of Kadanth's anxiety are present as well, only increasing R'xim's stress level. "W'rin's been contacted." A lie. Rix has no idea if anyone has communicated with the Weyrleader. "Easy now. You just rest." Eyes lock with the healer who has fellis.

K'vvan doesn't stay on that bronze back one second longer than he needs to. Not his dragon bro. His tumble is less than graceful. "Kehemath, stop it!" He flicks his gaze over to Sienna to see her into the hands of the healer, then back to the green. Nadeeth steps closer, twining herself like a cat around her friend, and chancing the dragon biting her. Calm, calm, see, the healers have her! It would be well. He steps aside to stay at Sienna's side. "Can you not leave the weyr without getting f*cked up woman?" She's not dying. At least, she'd better not be, or K'vvan's going to kill her. A glance up at Mayte. She's the ranker here…

Fasai's eyes flick towards R'xim and her cue is taken from him. When they lower again to meet F'dan's, she says with the utter sincerity of a born liar, "It's true, he's coming now. He'll want to speak to you, you need to do as the healers say so you can answer his questions." That makes no sense, given that the healers are advancing with cup in hand and the drug is not known for its communicative side effects- but R'xim started it. The lies, they flow cool and calm and easy this evening, a little oasis of untruth in the midst of bloody chaos, at least until someone has the good sense to shoo the hooker away from the mostly dead fellow.

"We're ready!" Mayte shouts up, surrounded by helpers… of which she's probably the shortest. Awesome. Once Kehemath has brought her rider down, Mayte lets the healers move past her to swarm the greenrider, instead moving, panties in hand, to Kadanth's muzzle. "Shit," she's swearing, "Shit, shit, shit…" The underpants… sorry, Fasai, they'll get… cleaned? "Kadanth. Hold STILL." Like Kadanth is some ginormous, winged runner. "Give me your nose." Rhiscorath also adds tome after tome of weight to that order, and Mayte goes for reassuring, "F'dan will be fine. He's with the Healers. Sienna will be fine too. Now give me your nose."

For a moment Fasai's soothing seems to work, F'dan's trembling seeming to still. "He is?" Wide-eyed and gullible: not a normal F'dan look. He tries to sit up, reaching for Fasai - perhaps he thinks she's someone else - before promptly collapsing backwards in agony, a low animal sound torn out from the depths of him. His good hand curls into a fist, hitting the side of the stretcher repeatedly as he howls. Are those tears? Twice in one day, after none for turns and turns. It's some sort of record. A healer seems to think this is a good moment to bring that fellis over, but it's sharding well not: F'dan bats the man's arm away, looking desperately at R'xim. "Don't let him. Don't let him near me. I'm not waking up without my fucking hand, Rix. Please. Please." Sienna's call of his name elicits more of those watery things that are totally not to do with emotion and are purely pain-based and manly.

The Healers around Sienna get her onto a backboard and lift her, and one reaches out to touch the just now noticed tunic tied around her upper right arm. Looking further down her arm the Healer pales. That's bad, right? "Infirmary. Now. MOVE." And off they go, carrying her bloody, limp, pale faced form past the others and leaving Kehemath to follow as far as she can before curling up with an exhausted whimper.

It looks like a fairytale: the small woman steps up to the monster and he is calmed, the beast subdued by the beauty. Mayte may be tiny, but faced with her command Kadanth seems to collapse in on himself, his body slumping down to twine with Shalnth's. A low rumble of anxiety ripples through the ground, huge eyes flickering an agitated yellow. His nose is offered obediently, held forward for her to touch. It looks for all the world as if he tried to get in somewhere.

F'dan is really going to make R'xim do this. When the injured bronzer puts up such a struggle that even the healer's can't control, Rix's left hand darts to F'dan's neck. Pressing the man back and waving for the fellis, R'xim subdues F'dan with one hand while administering the medicine with the other. "You fucking bastard, be still." As the fellis juice pours from the cup into F'dan's mouth, R'xim's eyes burn with the sensation of hot tears. Though none spill over, he hates having to practically choke and force his bro to take the sedative. There's no other way. Right? As he can see the herbs taking effect, both hands reach out to cup F'dan's face as the bronzer's consciousness slowly dissolves: "They won't take it, Fen. I won't let them. Just…rest."

K'vvan doesn't give a damn about the bronze rider. No. He's going to stay right by Sienna until a healer tells him to f*ck off. Nadeeth will say with Kehemath providing what comfort the small green can. Oh, but a thought, "Nadeeth, tell Valiuth." Not that the weyrleader doesn't probably already know, but, now it is OFFICAL.

Manly tears? Fasai politely averts her eyes. Or maybe she's distracted by the swarm of healers, with hands inserting themselves between hers and F'dan, ready to take over the task of providing proper care. None of this bare bones doctoring that she can offer. With the bronzerider well and truly handled, his grab having missed- maybe if he'd had two hands to use!- she slides back, rocking from knees to the balls of her toes in order to stand. It's then she has a chance to finally look around again and it's then that she sums up the entire situation from a very personal place: "…Rosie's going to kill me."

"Technically what goes on in my infirmary is outside of your jurisdiction," one of the healers huffs at R'xim. Every office has one know-it-all. Apparently aware though that the bronzerider is a) huge and b) agitated, the healer makes the smart move of stepping back and directing his underlings to lift the stretcher. Some unpleasant bladed instruments await.

Finn is pale, standing quietly by and helping as he can, mind buzzing with the fear and panic radiating off of the subdued dragon. F'dan's bleak cry to Rix at losing his hand sends a burr of shame through the young trader, who'd had a wildly uncharitable moment of grim satisfaction. It's his hands. Hand. Fear chokes the young man on behalf of anyone faced with losing that. He moves between each cluster of healers, supplying what is needful, silent and pale, an anxious ghost. With a dry mouth.

More like tempermental bitch takes advantage of confusion: "Better," Mayte mutters and steps closer. She waves over a dragonhealer who was waiting for the signal. "What the fuck happened to you," she asks Kadanth, a little more sympathetically. She's ready to gently pat away at some of the ichor when a dragonhealer coughs. She looks to it from Kadanth and then back: "Oh." So Mayte tucks it into a back pocket, and waves the dragonhealers in. Rhiscorath would also like to know, Kadanth. Whatever noise F'dan is making has Mayte whipping her head around: "Sedate him!" she shouts, regardless of what the healer's advising. Compared to Fasai, F'dan will probably remember Mayte as that cantankerous bitch.

At that moment F'dan would have preferred the gentleness of Fasai's voice to the healer's fellis — let alone Mayte's shout — but he doesn't get any say in the matter. Forced to drink the liquid by R'xim he's out for the count in moments, head flopping sideways and unseeing eyes fixed on Fasai as he's carried away. He leaves behind him a disconcerting trail of bright carmine blood, droplets falling from the stretcher as the healers take him to the infirmary.

R'xim doesn't remove his hands from F'dan's face until he is asleep, which doesn't take long given the amount of fellis forced down his throat. Gently resting F'dan's head against a cloth, Rix nods and stands up to full height to allow the healers to get to work. The off handed comment about jurisdiction is ignored, though the glare that is given to the healer is enough to speak volumes. "Take him away." is then said to the group. All R'xim can do now is watch as his best friend is carted off to the infirmary, so he stands alone and in silence. Almost in a daze. When F'dan and the healers disappear off into the distance, Rix snaps out of it long enough to walk toward Shalnth who is still entwined with Kadanth.

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