Diem, I'dre


Diem and I'dre cross paths in the very early morning in the Yard, where the Weyrwoman learns she may be gaining a rather unexpected addition to Mirage. Zsaviranth decides too that today will be THE day for her newest clutch.


It is before dawn of the seventh day of the ninth month of the fifteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Dragonhealer's Yard, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 06 Dec 2018 05:00



"So they decided to stick you with the rehabilitating riders, the expecting ones, and the Dragonhealing goldriders."


Dragonhealer's 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's early in the morning and Igen's Weyrwoman is dressed in her scrubs for a shift in the infirmary. Currently sitting crosslegged upon a good sized stone couch, she's scrawling something into a leather bound journal and is rather focused on the task. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a runnertail and she is free of any jewelry or anything sparkly at the moment — except for that very, very large gold dragon resting on the couch with her. Zsaviranth looks like she should've gone to the sands yesterday judging by the size of her. She's dozing, though, so it's probably best not to disturb her.

There are two whose presence is a bit of an oddity here. Mhiruth has curled himself up nearby, mores out in the bowl than in the Yard itself; the blue isn’t injured, so there’s no need for him to take up space when that space could be desperately needed. He’s noted Zsaviranth’s gravid state and, while intrigued, wisely leaves the gold to her rest. I’dre is the true anomaly, arriving as he does not from the bowl but from within the Infirmary itself. He may as well be bringing a storm with him, from the metaphorical thunderclouds hanging over him. For a moment, he pauses and doesn’t immediately see Diem; he simply looks at a loss for a second where to go. Then he happens to glance sidelong her way and his posture stiffens, as he quickly wonders if he has time to escape while she’s distracted. If he is spotted, however, he’ll politely nod in greeting.

Movement in her peripheral vision has Diem glancing up from her writing even though her hand still scrawls upon the hide. Multitasker extraordinaire. Her hand finally stops writing and she soon returns her tawny gaze downward to see if what she wrote actually makes sense. "You look lost." she says to the only other person within earshot. She looks up again at I'dre and might actually sense those little thunderclouds flashing and booming over that head of his.

“I’m not lost.” I’dre replies, a touch gruffly though his mouth quirks in a faint smirk. Private joke, maybe? He doesn’t elaborate however and he definitely sticks out like a sore thumb. Weyrling uniform for one, with the senior weyrling knot. Shouldn’t he have been tapped by now? He also stands out in most cases just on his height alone. Diem will always have to look up at him, but even as he turns to face her, he doesn’t exactly loom over her and keeps a respectful distance. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your work, Weyrwoman.” he adds, with a respectful (if delayed) salute. A little less formally, he adds more while glancing about the quiet space. “… wasn’t expecting anyone to be here yet.”

"Uh huh." Diem doesn't sound like she believes I'dre when he says that he's not lost. She does, in fact, note that uniform of his along with a senior weyrling's knot, which has her digging back into her memory to see if she can recall anything in Vosji's reports that might stand out. When nothing draws to the surface, she closes the leather bound journal in her crosslegged lap, sticks her writing utensil within the journal's spine, and focuses on the blueling. "I'm often here before anyone else is. And I figured I'd get as many shifts in the Yard as I can before I'm 'fasted to the sands." Zsaviranth doesn't even twitch. "So, what are you doing here…?" Her question hangs like she's waiting for him to present his name.

His name was probably tucked in or lumped in with a report on ‘struggling’ weyrlings but nothing so severe as to stand out. Which would be a relief to know, if I’dre had any inkling on it! His brow furrows in thought as Diem explains why she is here and a part of him wonders if he’d forgotten that the Weyrwoman’s duties do cover this area. Regardless, it’s noted and will be mulled upon later. Straightening a bit under her questions, his shoulders soon drop and he takes on a rather uncomfortable stance. Is that a bit of a flush to his cheeks too? Oh yeah, he definitely looks awkwardly put on the spot — or caught. “I’m uh… here under orders. Kind of.” he mutters his explanation, while reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “Not usually this early but we work around my duties.” Normally he’d just brashly dismiss such inquiries but he’s not about to sass a Weyrwoman, stormy mood or not. “Name’s I’dre.” Deflection time! “Blue Mhiruth’s rider.”

"So, you're here under orders to do what exactly?" Diem is trying to grasp the situation and she notes that tiiiny flush to the weyrling's cheekbones when he's put on the spot. "Oh!" She brightens a bit and then sets her journal down near Zsaviranth's neck. "Are you training with the Dragonhealers? Or, well. Planning to train? We could always use more of them around and I was just saying to H'rik the other day that we need more Dojis and Ereis." The goldrider stands up from her seat upon the stone couch and brushes her hands together, considering. And maybe even assessing the tall blueling at the same time.

I’dre opens his mouth to answer but then Diem is speaking so enthusiastically that he lapses silent again. His mouth draws into a crooked smile and he doesn’t correct her. Why? Because she’s not entirely wrong in her assumption! And it’s easier for him to discuss this than the fact that he’d just come from a mindhealer session. “Planning too. I’ve met Doji and saw some of what she was studying. Guess that… sort’ve started it? Not sure if I’m cut out for it though.” Now he smirks, relaxing a little as they veer away from more private topics and one a little safer. “Had one brush with it in Candidacy. Didn’t handle it so well.” He blinks, as Diem stands up and he doesn’t move from his spot; only his head tilts somewhat, in a curious manner. What?

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for it either and I've a Healer's background." Diem says in a flat tone as she pivots to regard the slumbering gold beside her. She takes a moment to inspect Zsaviranth's hide and then lifts a hand to wipe away something that was there. Maybe some sand, who knows. "We're effective in our own way, though. I'm not incredibly hands-on with procedures that the actual Dragonhealers perform. If you've a strong stomach and can stand the sight of ichor, it'll be a satisfying position to hold." And maybe a good distraction for him if he needs something positive to focus on. She scritches that golden hide a little and the gold still doesn't stir.

“Huh. Is that right?” I’dre’s become a little bold and his response to Diem’s open discussion is slightly rough around the edges but no less heartfelt. He’s not a man who sugar coats and if he tends to lay it on thick, it’s only for his gain. There is little to gain here, save to keep his hide intact and not anger one of the highest ranking members of the Weyr. Grimacing, he chuckles dryly. “Ichor doesn’t bother me or seeing the wounds. What threw me off that time was the texture. Wasn’t ready for that…” There’s still a slight shudder he gives at the memory. “Which I guess is something you grow a thicker skin to, over time. Just like anything else.” There’s a strange hint of a sad tone to his voice on that last, but it’s there and gone so quick as he too drops his gaze to Zsaviranth’s slumbering form. “She’s close, isn’t she? You mentioned it before.”

"Yeah, you sort of get used to it over time." If Diem is ruffled by the tone I'dre uses, she doesn't show it. And if he wants to keep testing those waters, that's the risk he takes. "You'll throw up a few times at some of the more gruesome injuries and if you happen to get a spurt of ichor anywhere near your mouth." A hand motions to her nose. "The scent is… something else." It would seem that she's not quite used to it after all these Turns, either. Still, she nods and then steps back to regard the size of Zsaviranth for a moment. "Very close. We'll have a clutch of eggs very, very soon. Which means you'll be getting picked for a wing soon enough."

I’dre wrinkles his nose. “I’m not unfamiliar with the taste of blood but I think I’ll agree with you on that about ichor…” That’s not something he’s hoping to experience any time soon! But who knows what he’ll face, if he ends up serious about the path he’s intending to take. He nods to Diem’s assessment of Zsaviranth’s time to clutching but his gaze sharpens as he turns to look at the Weyrwoman. Then his gaze drops, that awkwardness, as well as the unseen storm clouds, returning. “… that I doubt.” he mutters, only to realize that not only was his tone blunt (and frustrated) but one step too far into crypticness. He sighs, realizing he’d just dug himself a small hole. Too late for it now, he just elaborates with a grudging sort of hesitation. She’s going to find out, regardless! “They’re most likely discussing putting me in Mirage, for now.” he smirks, knowing full well that Mirage is her domain. Maybe the report was due to come in later that day? Sorry not sorry, Vosji. “Not because of my interest, that is… something new I’m considering.” Yet he sounds uncertain.

"Oh, so you're getting picked for my wing." Diem says as she glances over her shoulder at I'dre. Which means, yes, she'll be reading over a report about this soon enough. She doesn't ask for any details, though, atleaast not right this second — there will be plenty of time for that when she returns to the council chamber. It's not difficult to piece together why he's at the infirmary this early in the day since she's familiar with the Senior Journeymens' schedules for the most part — which means there are only so many places he could be. And if he hasn't been with the Dragonhealers, she can take a guess where else he might've been. "I look forward to hearing about the details."

“Yeah…” I’dre can only awkwardly supply as an answer, nodding stiffly as he meets Diem’s gaze. He smirks when she mentions looking forwards to the details and he can’t help but scoff a bit, but mostly to tease himself with some grim humour. “It’s nothing riveting or exciting. Might be disappointing, actually.” His shoulders lift in a slight shrug, as he turns his gaze skywards instead. “It was a bit of a surprise, honestly. I was betting that I’d be held back in Mosaic but I guess I show enough potential.” Just not enough to get him into one of the full Wings… yet. All that and more, Diem will learn. She can access a lot more about him than most could; from Vosji, from the Headwoman (he was a weyrbrat) and others. No doubt the Weyrwoman will know all about his temper problems, his inability to handle high level of stress (for now) and that a lot of his fears are based around the trauma of having a dragonless former-rider as a father. That I’dre is not necessarily a bad rider and in fact could be a very GOOD one if he could just keep his head on straight when things go bad.

"So they decided to stick you with the rehabilitating riders, the expecting ones, and the Dragonhealing goldriders." Diem arcs a dark colored brow at I'dre. She'll definitely have to get caught up to speed on this blueling soon enough. "Not that I'm complaining. I'll just have to come up with a special PT routine for you along with some duties fit for an able bodied Mirage wingrider." She smiles now, an expression marked with an impish glint in those tawny colored eyes as she regards I'dre. Things to look forward to! Rather suddenly, Zsaviranth ruffles her wings and begins to maneuver up onto her feet, causing Diem to back up and give her (plenty of) room. There's a grand streeetch of wings and soon the gold is venturing out of the Yard with purpose. "Oh." Diem stands there for a moment, staring after her lifemate until it clicks. "Oh!" She then pivots toward I'dre. "I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to read more about you say, tomorrow sometime? Until then, get to the Galleries if you want a good seat." Apparently Zsaviranth is on a mission!

Is that more of a flustered look on I’dre? It definitely is! He’s looking like he wishes he could find an adequately large enough hole to crawl into too. “Yep!” he counters eventually, with a grim looking smirk and a sharp look to his eyes. Technically, he is rehabilitating! Just not physically. It’s certainly not normal, but when the pieces come together for this unusual scenario, it makes sense! Diem’s not the only one stepping back when Zsaviranth rises and I’dre moves aside in tandem. He clues in a heartbeat before the Weyrwoman, though he only glances sidelong at her and keeps any sarcastic wit to himself. “Of course, Weyrwoman. Best of luck!” He’ll take that as a formal set of instructions, if he does end up in Mirage and a dismissal as well. Giving her a brisk nod, he’ll wait until they’ve gone before he’s heading to Mhiruth’s side. There, he’ll pause as the blue patiently gazes down on him and whatever their discussion may be has him relenting with a sigh. “Fine. We have a bit of time anyhow.” There’s a pleased sounding rumble from the blue, as he extends his foreleg to his rider. “…we’ll find a ledge?” I’dre’s last words are an inquiry, as he mounts up. Looks like they’ll be observing, just from up high!

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