Who

H'rik, Nasrin

What

After an erratic Threadfall, H'rik and Nasrin analyze the aftermath.

When

It is the thirty-seventh day of Spring and 84 degrees. Humid.

Where

Dragonhealer Yard

OOC Date 29 Jun 2018 04:00

 

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"Your chessboard needs all possible players in the sky."


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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.


A warm, rainy afternoon has seen Igen meet an erratic fall over the Weyr, with enough injuries to keep the dragonhealers busy once everyone's returned. The sun is dipping as dinner time approaches; H'rik, perhaps, should be going to get some food, but he's not even gone to wash and change clothes yet. The distinctive smell of firestone emanates from him as Wendryth lands just outside the dragonhealer yard, and the Weyrleader jump-slides to the ground. The tiredness of a difficult fight has him pause for a moment to gather himself, before he enters the clean space where the dragonhealers are working. He's at least stripped off his riding jacket at some point, but his trousers are noticeably grubby with soot. He looks about, judging where to go first to check in on the injury numbers. He's a regular sight in the yard after a 'fall, moreso after that particularly disastrous one.

The unpredictable Falls are risky, and often the newest riders are the biggest sum of casualties. Two young riders collided when one surfaced from between in a definite breaker of formation— practically in the next level of flight. "…oughta expect more from a bronzerider," the dragonhealer on duty spits out, not minding if his rider's able to hear or not. "Damage would've been less if it weren't such a big dragon. Did he say whether it was the fifth or fourth rib?" Nasrin turns to look fully at S'taro, and as Rajakhelath's agent, "he isn't sure, it could even be soft tissue damage. We'll keep trying. Greetings, Weyrleader," Nasrin acknowledges H'rik after having watched Wendryth land. S'taro salutes and goes back between the blue and bronze dragons. "Any burrows?" The junior is looking up to her life-mate, halving focus.

Wendryth reaches out to Rajakhelath with a respectful air - this is, after all, her domain more than his. « Rajakhelath! How go your duties? Are the injured most doleful? » He isn't at full volume - probably his own exhaustion from the 'fall. H'rik steps closer to the two dragons she's near, looking them both over with his definitely not a healer's eye. "Weyrwoman, hello." To her question: "Only two shallow ones, caught quickly. The groundcrew were on very good form." No mention of his evaluation of the fact that the Wings missed something. Now for his difficult question, with only a slight pause before he asks, neutrally: "How many injured?"

Her hide smoldering coals and blue flames, Rajakhelath diverts correspondence with Ryntlath to roll a rumble to Wendryth, her neck column extending. « Doleful, wet, and yet anxious to face Thread again. These ones we think we have worked the stupid out from. » Bronze Eretenuuth of wing Oasis is bruised, his rider has minor whiplash, but they shouldn't be long out of commission. The smaller blue Ryntlath has mostly internal damage. "Fifteen, but twelve should be ready to fly with you in the next Fall. V'teag and Ar'tul had a collision, they'll be out a while yet. I think S'taro is going to recommend a demerit for V'teag." Rajakhelath almost touches her nose to the area on Ryntlath where he hurts the most, his breathing shallow and skin tone mottled from stress.

H'rik seems to release a breath, tension seeping out of him at the reassurance of twelve returnees next 'fall. Three out of action for longer though - that brings a worried haze to his expression as he looks at Ryntlath more closely. Even he can't miss the change in the blue's hide tone. His mouth thins, muscles in his jaw tightening as Nasrin explains about V'teag. "If he considers it necessary. But they'll recover?" Wendryth is keeping his respectful distance from what he considers Rajakhelath's arena. « Good! » The light is bright in the mists of his mental landscape; a little too bright, perhaps, as Wendy is overly optimistic. « For Thread shall come again, and Igen shall rise to meet it! »

"I consider it necessary, sir!" S'taro tacks on, a vagrant towards the conversation as he grunts and over the blue's damage, asking an aide for more numbweed. Nasrin absolves herself of any discipline, this incident is punishment in itself, and a wingrider is beyond her scope. "Oh Eretenuuth, no question. He could actually fly sooner, but his rider has some shock to his neck vertebrae." Nas rubs her palms along the breadth of one snakehide-covered arm. She hasn't made it from her flight gear. « And rise and rise again. » Rajakhelath's words are sweet despite her love of mental butane smells. "I can see you and Wendryth aren't among the list…" Trying to be optimistic like Wendryth, though less exclamation points, the junior plays with a off-centered smile.

H'rik's glance flicks in S'taro's direction as he adds his contribution, a simple nod his answer to the man. There's a grimace for Nasrin's mention of shock to neck vertebrae - an injury he recalls happening in the Pit now and then. "Best to let his rider rest. Rushing back to full duties could worsen the injury, if my knowledge is right?" He'll defer to those better trained than him (trained at all, really - his knowledge is very much amateur). H'rik's smile is restrained as he fixes his gaze on Nasrin. "Fortunately not." Is that a hint of bitterness or guilt in his voice that they should come off scot-free when those they lead do not? « Our duty, » Wendryth's physical rumble accompanies his declaration.

Feeling sweat and rainwater start to coelesce on her scalp, Nasrin sheds the snakehide like the beasts themselves molting into a slicker skin. Except hers is a damp blouse, but one she moves comfortably in, jacket neatly held. "Yes, that is a risk," she with also no direct human healer training has picked up what necessities manifest here and there. "I'm curious, Weyrleader," the junior's eyes flicker forward and her study sharpens, pinpoint accurate. "Your chessboard needs all possible players in the sky. Would you agree with reproving V'teag for his error in judgment which endangered another riding pair?" She receives an update from Rajakhelath, noting to S'taro that Ryntlath hungers. "Hmmgnh. Maybe a good sign." The veteran brownrider mumbles and loops the numbweed paddle in an ever-expanding circle. Ar'tul, the blue's rider, is absent- receiving stitches for a minor cut in the infirmary.

It's going to be one of those moments when the Weyrleader is put on the spot. All the responsibility that the knot on his shoulder brings. "It does," he agrees with the chessboard analogy, a humorous part at the back of his mind wishing he'd played that game more before he ascended to this position. He meets Nasrin's gaze, reluctant to show weakness in a moment that requires him to stand up for his choices. "I do. I'd rather avoid a repeat incident. Besides, he put not just another pair at risk, but himself and his dragon, too." His face is calm as he answers, though there's that tightness about his jaw still. There's only the slightest hint of relaxation in the muscles when S'taro talks of the hunger being a positive sign.

H'rik and Nasrin have the common good of Igen to promote. During his response, her eyes stray a little toward his hairline, a cheek, wherever a network of muscles can tic or flex in times of emotional reaction. The junior is alert to locate perceived weaknesses or folly as her expression stays a neutral halcyon calm. "I would agree." Her weight carries sometimes little and sometimes much depending on dominion. Nasrin's gaze is blinked back to the blue on his side, where Rajakhelath nests by him, her cinder-hide in contrast to his cool color spectrum. H'rik has passed the junior's play-test. "Wingleader I'lin may do it for you and save you the time." She takes in a breath, her preparation to leave. "There isn't more good I can do here, though Rajakhelath will stay near in case his condition changes, S'taro. And I'll," setting a soft hand against Ryntlath's prone wrist, "find somewhere else to do good." Like check on supper. "Another Fall well-played, Weyrleader." Looking openly at H'rik, Nasrin's pale moon face cringes as she steps back into full light, setting though it is.

H'rik maintains himself before her, unaware that this is a test. No, he's just trying to be the calm, cool Weyrleader in a moment that requires him to make a decision. "It would be rude of me to overstep where I'lin has the right," he comments as to the giving of the punishment, and no doubt Wendryth will be reaching out to the Wingleader's dragon to let him know of the discussion here in the yard. "Thank you, Weyrwoman." For doing this job here in the yard? For the compliment to him? His gaze remains on her as she leaves, and he'll linger in the dragonhealer yard a little longer to talk to a few riders, before he takes his leave to, finally, clean himself up.

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