While the afternoon begins, the day grows darker and cooler rather than sunnier and warmer. That doesn't seem to have dampened G'deon's spirits, however, as he leaves the infirmary behind and begins his leisurely process west toward the ground weyrs. His progress is slowed as he starts to shake out an oiled canvas trench coat, preparing for the autumn rain that steadily drums the paving stones outside.

Lendai is heading much the opposite way as G'deon seems to be. As he is coming from the infirmary, the Weyrwoman seems to be headed there. As she nears the bronzerider, a sniffle with an accompanying "Ah-ah-aaaah CHOOOO!" gives away her presence. She's not allowed the luxury of bemoaning her health, as instead as she walks forward, her attention is caught by the trench coat in the older man's hand. "Oooooo!" Her nose, not yet stuffed, causes no silly voice of muffled vowels. "I need me one of these." Cue another sniffle to suck all that snot back in. Lendai's hands are reaching out, pointing at G'deon's bounty. "Bronzerider." A familiar face from olden times, it's a warm smile for the man as well as a greeting. "I don't suppose there are more of those, possibly in pink, somewhere in the stores? It rained at High Reaches, but not like it bloody damned does here!"

G'deon looks up quickly when he hears the sneeze, then brightens when he realizes it's Lendai. "Weyrwoman. Bartered with a seacrafter for it shortly after Nylanth and I arrived," he says, his grin crinkling the deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. "He got it from a weaver in Nerat. Perhaps it's worth chasing down the lead." He pauses for a moment with the garment still in his hands, though the thing would dwarf the werywoman. "I don't know about pink, but that's what commissions are for, are they not?" He finishes sliding his arms through the sleeves, then settles the collar and labels. "The rain is one of the only things that doesn't seem to have changed about Southern," he adds a moment later, which might carry a darker undertone. It could just be the weather, too. "You're not coming down with something, I hope?"

"Smart of you," Lendai comments, nodding at the coat. "I'll need to order a commission, and soon. The rain, the constant, neverending rain." Exasperation clearly evident in her tone and expression. "I'd never gone to Southern during the rainy season, only when it was lovely and warm. By the egg, if I'd have thought a little harder, I'd simply have stuck it out at Igen and knock off Sadaiya to be Weyrwoman there." A wry grin now, to match with her poorly off-taste joke. "Ah well, so we suffer so." Shoulders are shrugged. "Should you find the name of the weaver, I'd love the information. Otherwise, I'll just send out word and see what comes of it. I need something. I'm quite sick of being damp." She huffs, wiping the back of her arm across her nose. Super ladylike and all that. "Just a small scratch of the throat and some sneezes that follow. I'll shake it before the next Threadfall." Her arms wrap around her own chest, hands rubbing up and down to stave off the wet. "How have casualties been, by the by, since the most recent fall? Q'fex does not always deem it essential to tell me." A twinge of irritation in her words, though her smile never wavers.

"What, and give up an entire continent?" G'deon replies, eyes twinkling far more than they should. Maybe he just knows her. "I would have preferred the weather at the old Weyr. Nearer the ocean. It had such lovely days, nearly all Turn. But this…" He trails off and peers toward the gloomy colors beyond the shelter of the complex. "I would still take this over that sharding sand. Mildew can be scrubbed and killed. Rooms aired, fires lit. Clothing cleaned. That sand gets everywhere. And zero chance of a decent vineyard." By his tone, that last is the biggest offense. When Lendai turns the conversation to 'Fall and casualties, G'deon's expression sobers. "Nothing overly dire, though there was a blue who was severely injured in the last. His wing was 'scored to the bone. We're hoping the sails will heal, but he'll be lucky to be able to do more than glide." His hands fidget at his jacket's lapels, then he lets them drop. "How are things in the caverns?"

"True, true!" Lendai gives a twittering laugh, wrinkling her nose in mirth. "'least I can say I've the largest Weyr area, if nothing else. I think I simply miss the passing of real seasons. Versus hot, hot and wet, or just wet." That's basically Southern in a nutshell. At least in Lendai's mind. "For the small time we were in Igen, G'deon, I could not even tell you the uncomfortable places I found sand." Dead serious now is the Weyrlady. "Cracks and crevices that sand should not dwell. The sand storms only made them that much worse." A shudder, Lendai's shaking her head. "No, no. You're right. Sadaiya can have Igen. I'll deal with the humidity." As the topic shifts to the somber, Lendai also grows a tad more serious. A wince of the face at G'deon's remarks on the blue. "Shells. That's a mess. I do not envy you your job. Dragonhealing was never something I could handle. I don't have the," Calm demeanor? Decent bedside manner? Balls? All of the above. "Well. I just don't have the ability. Let's hope the falls start to even out some. All this brings me back to my mom telling me stories. Like when she lost her eye. Seems so much worse in real life than simply spoken word though." Pause. "You flew it back in the day, didn't you? With my mom and countless others? Was it as sporadic?"

G'deon smiles at Lendai's first reaction. Yeah, he knows her. "Oh, I know about Igen. Spent quite a bit of time there in our own time," he drawls, winking at her. He turns, gesturing toward the infirmary, indicating he'll walk her there. "And after all that sand, we have to somehow sit on our dragons' shoulders for the ride home. I'll take the damp." He seems in no hurry to return to the infirmary or any other place in the Weyr, and Lendai's questions just seem to cement that. "I did," he replies at first, forcing a light tone, "and… and I think a lot of people from both times are learning just that, Lendai." He stops to swallow, adam's apple bobbing slightly. He then remembers something and searches an inside pocket of his jacket before producing a handkerchief, still freshly pressed from the laundry. "Let us hope reality isn't all they're learning. But… sporadic. Yes. Sometimes. Nothing like this, though."

"I guess we should count our lucky stars that it's not damp sand all up in our lady, or man, parts." Lendai goes there, because that is what she does. Leaving behind the discussion of sand and wet, the Weyrwoman purses her lips. Another small sniffle from the woman, making sure no nose drippings flow free at this moment. "Well, so long as we can get through this first turn or two with as few… permanent casualties," She clears her throat. "I'll be content. It hurts my heart, to see Talicanitath's babies take to the sky and come out injured. Probably much like it'd feel to see Aikari hurt herself. Lucky I'll ger her married off to a wealthy Lord Holder and away from dragonrider life though." Then there will be relief, or so says her earnest expression. "We'll get through it all!" Chipperness is there now, determination edging the tone. "At least with the grubs all about, it takes some pressure off of our shoulders." A snap of the fingers. "Oh! See that? Another way Southern is better. Grubs!" Just BURSTING with positivity today.

At Lendai's mention of Aikari, G'deon looks away, eyes focusing on the ground weyrs in the distance. "We can only protect our children so far," he says in a low rumble before turning his attention back to Lendai. He smiles at the part about the grubs, then puts his handkerchief back in his pocket. "It's too bad that they haven't survived elsewhere. Perhaps someday." He begins walking toward the infirmary. "As for your daughter, shutting her up in a tower won't save her if that's not what's going to make her happy. Even seeing Iliad as he is now, I would not have kept him from impression when that was so clearly what he wanted. Nor forced Pidgery into it, when all he wanted to do was craft." Rounded shoulders lift in a mild shrug. "As for the dragons. This is what they were born to do. And we were born to help them, else they wouldn't have chosen us."

Ah, wisdom from a man who has seen it all, done it all, lived it all. Lendai gives a few moments of quiet consideration. "She'll be perfectly fine as a Holder." She finally says, lamely. "So long as she's got lots of marks to spend and nice things, she'll be content." Eyes are narrowed, almost daring G'deon to refute her stubborn (and terrible) parenting choices. "There's time to worry about that though. Seeing as how she's only… three or something. Some lower number, I'm sure." Seriously. Terrible mother. "Iliad." There's another wince. "He seems to be coping, if nothing else. Can't say I could. Probably just off myself should Talicanitath, y'know." A slicing motion across her neck, followed by a weird dying-wherry sort of sound. A tremor of her lower lip, "Shells, I can't say I even like mentioning it happening. Feels like an ill omen."

G'deon might be thinking the same thing, as his escorting motions cease, feet shuffling to a stop. He fumbles a moment with the sash to his jacket before he gets it tied, then he looks up at Lendai, blue eyes heavily lidded, unusually dark. "Well. On that note," he begins, again forcing a lighter note, though this time it fails rather miserably. "I'd best check on Cuhurth's wing. He'll be needing numbweed again soon," likely talking about the blue mentioned previously. He starts to turn toward the ground weyrs once more, then stops to give Lendai a last nod. "By the way, I asked the Healers to send a specialist from Igen. If you wouldn't mind letting Bailey and Hannah know, just so it doesn't come as a surprise should one of the crafters come to them?" There's a final pause as he studies the Weyrwoman, then he turns once more to leave.

Feathers ruffled, though only a little, Lendai gives a sharp, jerky nod. G'deon may not be the only one tsk'ing the Weyrwoman's "plans" for her daughter's future. "I'll let my juniors know, just in case. As well as send the word to Renalde. I hope," She pauses, moistening her lips a moment. A sneeze is building, if the queer look on her face is any indication. "I hope he's alright. The blue, that is. And should you need any assistance from Talicanitath, you need only ask." Lendai gives a small wave to the bronzerider, and then herself continues on her way. Towards the infirmary to get some sort of relief from her budding cold. A sneeze echoing in the caverns as she moves out of sight.