Who

Divale, A'lira, Xanthee, Fergus

What

Two candidates are wrangled into delivering supplies to the Dragonhealer's Yard where they run into two brownriders.

When

It is before dawn of the twenty-second day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Dragonhealer Yard, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 06 Mar 2018 05:00

 

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Dragonhealer Yard

Painfully elegant, a stubborn brand of cleanliness is retained in the gentle colors of faded murals and various curtains hung from the rusted metal poles meant to shelter injured dragons on spacious couches lining the permanently soot-stained limestone walls. Of a dusty no-color somewhere between brown and gold, the floor extends onward, fading beneath ragged cabinets built to withstand anything from lashing draconic tails to various medicinal spills.

It is the fifty-second day of Spring and 84 degrees. It is overcast and cloudy.


Dawn has not even begun to creep over the horizon save for a slivered hint of sunlight and most of the Weyr still slumbers. Much of the dragonhealer yard slumbers too but it's an uneasy sort of rest of the wounded that permeates the atmosphere here. Threadfall was the day prior and while not heavy in injuries, even a 'normal' scheduled Fall claims victims. With the chaos long settled, what occurs here now is merely routine ? and perfect ground to introduce a few Candidates to minimal tasks (or a good dosage of what they're in for). Divale's time in the 'yard is very rare of late, but as circumstances would have it, one of Parhelion's own took a bad hit and as Wingsecond, she's checking in. No doubt to report back to Eala later, so that the Wing can be reshuffled if necessary. The brown in question is middle aged and resting, but the damage is obvious even under salve and bandage; he'd been broadsided, with much of the brunt taken to one front foreleg and trailing back to lesser burns along shoulder and wing. His rider is curled up on a cot on the brown's other side… and dead to the world. Ahh, the mercies of alcohol and fellis!

A familiar sight, this: how much time had A'lira spent here as a weyrling, seeing to other dragons, and his own's penchant for eating the wrong thing, and having to have his belly cleared out. Sticks, he would have to explain, are not food. And still, the puppyish Kyprioth would try it anyway until he was older, and better able to discern how much chewing one can do without actually ingesting what he chewed. As of late, his forays here have been fewer, for there's something on the horizon for him — one more knot in addition to the one he currently holds, one that will make him a very young Wingsecond. To keep calm, A'lira has decided that today is a good day to pace the Yard, turning all that nervous energy to something useful. His own brown takes up reluctant residence near that injured brown, crouched and wary.

Dressed for a run before her candidate chores begin for the day, it seems Xanthee was snagged to deliver a huge drawstring bag stuffed full of freshly laundered bandages to the dragonhealer yard on her way out, cause that white knot is a beacon just asking to be given a task. Slung over her shoulder, she grunts slightly under the effort. But when her emerald eyes grow wide, and she lets the bag slide to the ground as she sees the threadscored brown and a lump rises in her throat as she freezes to take a couple of deep breaths. She'd avoided the dragonhealer's yard most of her life so far, except for one time when she was four turns old, but her memory of that is all but gone.

Fergus seems to be often snagged for 'here, deliver this heavy thing' chores, most likely due to the brawny musculature he has in his huge arms and broad shoulders. He just looks like the sort to be able to carry heavy weights, despite his short stature, and his white knot has made him even more of a target. Thus, he enters not much later after Xanthee into the Dragonhealer yard, having been given a similar task of delivery. Except Fergus is holding a huge heavy crate full of heavy and delicate material - probably more bottles of fellis, contaiers of numbweed and any other heavy implements/supplies. He grunts as he wanders in, squinting around for the best place to set this darned thing. He hasn't really noticed the dragon yet, too busy figuring out where best to get rid of this sharding crate.

And little do those poor Candidates know that their deliveries, while not wholly necessary right now, will be critically important later when Igen is slammed by a catastrophic surprise 'Fall. Divale doesn't approach the brown in front of her… she can make her own evaluation from afar. It's the Dragonhealer on duty, at least to this particular pair, that she eventually flags down to have a low conversation with. From the tight, grim expression Divale holds the news may not be favourable, but with Xanthee and Fergus' arrival, she is momentarily distracted. "Morning," Sort of. "Candidates." she murmurs dryly, while the Dragonhealer gives a more pleased reaction. "Oh, excellent! Let's see what we have here… Then we can them properly sorted." No escape for you, Candidates! Time to be roped into further service! Divale just observes, though she will spy A'lira pacing and nod his way. Been there, done that too.

Isn't that just convenient. Poor, poor Candidates: welcome to Hell. Aren't you glad you accepted that white knot? A'lira will come to a halt, eyeing the two vic — er, volunteers that have come wandering into the Yard, and smiles. Is it a nice, warm smile? Of course it is! A'lira is a nice guy, really he is; even when he's mentally cursing the presence of one or two of the more mischevious youngsters who seem determined to try and play with various tools of the trade. With a gently ominous tone, he explains that the bone saws are not swords, and would they kindly clean and hang them back up and leave them alone. Turning back, he catches Divale's nod and returns it in kind, wryly amused. Of course she has — Lukioth has probably done a few… interesting things in his youth. Xanthee's shocked stare and emotional response gets a different sort of frown, more concerned than anything, and decides the girl could use a distraction. "Xanthee, are those the bandages? Can you bring them over here?" Well past the Threadscored brown, and away from the potential memories the sight evoked for her.

But..but..Xanthee was going on a run. With a resigned sigh, the raven-haired weyrbrat offers a smart salute to the dragonriders and the healer, cause she salutes just about anyone these days and she's not completely awake yet, that's what the run was going to be for. As the healer comes towards her she holds out her laundry bag of clean bandages. "I was just told to bring these here." she says softly in response to A'lira as she is distracted from the sight of the injured brown and moves over to the brownrider. Hopefully if she makes it clear that she is just on a carry task she'll be allowed to do so and then go. A little wishful thinking never hurt anybody.

Fergus still clutches the crate, arm muscles bulging as he strains to hold the heavy supplies against his broad chest. "I'd salute … but … " he grunts in amusement and gives a kind of bob of his shaggy head in a sort of head-nod sort of salute. He can't salute until he puts this darn thing down. He seems momentarily relieved when someone notices him and he moves thatway, pausing only to place the crate down as genty as possible. Then the mention of sorting comes up and he straightens slowly, attemptin to look as nonchalant as possible, "Sorting? No clue what's in there - wouldn't know where to begin." There's a twitch of something behind that massive bushy beard of his, though who knows if it's a mischievous grin or a scowl. Hard to tell with all that hair.

"You can set the crate down, to start?" Divale offers with a low, dry chuckle to her obvious suggestion. She will glance aside as Xanthee is called over by A'lira, but she continues to shadow the Dragonhealer who is now distracted by the supplies Fergus has brought in. "It's all real simple! Though I suppose I'd best not assume to take up a few Candidates, when I've my own helpers." Proper thank you will be dispensed, but the Dragonhealer is soon being absorbed back into his duties. A few orders are delegated and some trainees will arrive to whisk away the contents of that crate in timely order, while the DH himself goes to attend to a blue who has begun to groan in discomfort. Which leaves Divale to observe Fergus in her strange, quiet manner before gesturing for him to follow. Time to join A'lira and Xanthee and those bandages semi-forgotten in the lurch. "Settling in well?" she'll ask him.

"Perfect." Yup, they're bandages. Oh, look, the two mischief-makers can take those off her hands! Once she's free of them, he'll touch her shoulder gently, trying to reassure her a little bit. "Hmmm. Don't they always. Well since you're here…" Ha. So she thought she'd get out of a bit of a tour, eh? NOPE. It never, ever works that way; hasn't she learned that by now? And then, he is distracted by Divale, asking him something. "Well as I can — helps that I've been at this for awhile." And is now used to all the gruesome and grisly details.

Xanthee looks grateful when the the bandages are taken away from her but then A'lira looks as if he wants her to stick around. Giving the brownrider a quirked eyebrow, she represses a grin, afterall, they were candidates together a couple of turns ago. His touch to her shoulder does reassure her slightly though and she nods. "Yes..since I'm here?" she prompts as he seems to get distracted talking to the other brownrider.

Fergus seems relieved to not be roped into sorting that darned crate. There's even a grunting sigh of relief as the supplies are ferried away … away from him. And then Divale seems to indicate he should follow her, and his grunt turns to rseignation as he does. "Well enough," is his own response to Divale's question in his low, basso rumble, "Still no trees. And no axe." Because he's eben forced to keep his axe in storage for now, as a candidate carrying around such a thing would be weird. He squints at the bandages, seemingly baffled, "What needs to be done with bandages?" Because they look fine to him.

"There are trees here," Divale muses with a cryptic edge. "If you know where to look." Which means they are largely out of Fergus' reach at the current time. As for the axe? "That will be returned to you in time." He should be thankful that she restrains herself from patting him on the top of his head ? because she could. What with him being shorter and all (and his rank making it nigh impossible for him to do anything about it). There is a small, vague smile for Xanthee and a nod of greeting, as the brownrider keeps to her usual shadowed and guarded ways. "Suppose that does help lessen the edge," she murmurs to A'lira, only to blink and glance down again for Fergus' prompt. "Plenty." She starts bluntly, only to add: "Sterilizing them is half the work and the most nuanced. Then they need to be sorted, folded or rolled and correctly stored. Are you volunteering? I spent many, many," Heavy emphasis, with her dry, dark humoured tone. "Hours at that very task."

"So I noticed." A'lira agrees in amusement, having discovered that very thing when his dragon would not behave himself until they got one. Good rhing they weren't on sweeps at the time. "… you can help with all that sterilization." Beam. Aren't they lucky!

When Divale talks of the work still to be done on the bandages, Xanthee gets a sinking feeling that she's not getting her usual pre-dawn run in but looking resigned to her fate. This is what she wanted afterall, and she must take the good with the bad. "Ok then. Might as well get a start on and see if we can be done before breakfast." she shoots a look at her fellow Candidate with a smile.

Fergus blinks slowly several times at the rundown of what actually needs to be done with bandages, "Oh." He grunts slightly, seemingly resigned to this, "What do I know? I only know trees." And e does eye Divale speculatively at her mention of hidden trees in Igen. He may have to bug her about hat later. "Might as well help," he notes about the bandages, stepping forward with a sigh. "More hands are better than one."

See? That's the spirit! Not to mention there will be one (or three) Dragonhealer's happy to give further rundown and probably discuss and answer questions about just what it is that they do. Never mind the relieved trainees and helpers… who will probably oversee the Candidates regardless. Xanthee may yet have time for a run and while Fergus won't get to the mystery of hidden trees… maybe he can try to coax it from Divale. Emphasis on try. Hopefully he likes riddles? "I'll leave you both in capable hands," she murmurs to both Candidates, while giving A'lira a knowing look. "I've got to report in to Eala and prepare for drills. Enjoy your mornings!" That last, almost said as if to tease the two, before she takes her leave.

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