Ilesyn is apparently unconcerned by the rain that has rather rapidly turned her hair to frizz and her clothes to damp, dank clinging material on her back. She strides across the bowl, kicking lazily at puddles as she goes.
Tarrant stands motionless out in the diffuse light of the early evening - his riding jacket turned collar-up and some sort of altered flying helmet on his head. He stre up at the seemingly cold, unending rain.
And Gretta -- she's trudging her way across the bowl, slowed by two buckets, heavier now that there's rain filling it. There's another candidate -- shorter, wider -- behind her, with identical buckets, though he's, well, rather enjoying this trek across the bowl, kicking up puddles and stomping through the mud.
And Kyer is sneaking her way into the bowl. Yes, sneaking. Slouched over, creeping along the wall with hood pulled over her head and hands pulling it closer to the sides of her face. Exactly what is she up to? Well she's not about to talk. Especially since she's currently in sleuth-mode.
Ilesyn comes to a halt along the edge of the bowl, leaning against the great stone wall to stare - without making any move to hide it - at those passing; candidates, in particular, earn her interest, though she makes no move to greet them.
Tarrant hears someone trudging across the bowl, and slowly looks around for signs of other human life. Well, there's Gretta and company... and Ilesyn. Who? He slowly starts to trudge over towards the mindhealer.
There's a clank and clang, from behind Gretta, as the other suddenly trips in a deeper, dirtier puddle. Nearly dropping her own buckets, Gretta twirls around, surprised, then immediately holds back laughter at the sight of her partner. The contents of the buckets go flying: some boxes, some trinkets, a belt buckle, and a pair of ugly green boots. Watch out.
Success so far! Kyer pauses in her sleuth activities to glance around the bowl, eyes squinting as she spots the Candidates at the far end of the bowl and a hand raised to brush back hair from her face. Lips twitch near spasmodically as the prediciments are spotted, Kyer indulging in this little moment of spying, before she's slipping back along the wall of the bowl.
Ilesyn does not acknowledge Tarrant so much as give him more attention -- watching him come closer, though out of the corner of her eyes she's still very much aware of both Kyer and Gretta and partner. Especially the partner, for whom Ilesyn's lips lift into a wry smile.
Tarrant nears Ilesyn, and settles against the stone next to her, not saying anything, but nodding cordially to the other candidate. His eyes follow where hers go, and he now spots Kyer's slinking. Hmm... could be interesting.
The partner's whiny about this, kneeling in the mud; Gretta leaves him there, taking up her buckets with a steadier hand. When she reaches the belt buckle, she's kind enough to kick it back over in his direction, then continue on her way towards Tarrant, Ilesyn.
"Why the buckets?" Ilesyn queries of Gretta, finally breaking the silence in a curious - but not excessively so - tone of voice. She spares no sympathy for the whiny partner; her gaze rests levely on him for a moment, then turns away.
Tarrant finds nothing else of interest to add to Ilesyn's query, so he nods slightly, looking at both be-bucketed people with some curiosity.
"Special assignment," Gretta begins, though from her unamused look she obviously doesn't feel so special. "We're to take this old stuff -- from some old weyrs -- and take it back to the storage caverns." Depositing her buckets on a watery spot, she wrinkles her nose and scrunches up her shoulders. "This stuff will probably be useless, though: the rain's getting to it. It will smell, at least."
Ever one to state the obvious - and in a somewhat snide tone - Ilesyn smiles. "And don't you feel special." Attempting to push her fuzzy, bouffy hair away from her face, without success, the Mindhealer adds, "Looks reasonably useless as it is. /Green/ boots?" But wait, there's more: "As if anyone would pay good money to get their boots /dyed/."
Sneak..sneak..sneak..sneak. Kyer's getting quite good at this. And why exactly is she sneaking? She's heading in the certain direction of a place she never goes. Namely that of the Northeastern bowl and to portions beyond. Still hoping that she's mostly unseen, she casts furitive glance over her shoulder, gaze peering from beneath the hood draped over her head..and she silently waits a moment to see if she can't decipher any of the conversation going on.
Tarrant gently places an elbow in Ilesyn's ribs, his head turned to view Gretta and her pal, but eyes looking from under long lashes at Kyer. "She's up to something," he murmurs quite softly - a slight grin on his lips.
From the upper sky, Sylviath launches from her ledge, moving smoothly across the sky. SHe is nearly to the other side of the large Bowl before she begins to swoop to the left and begin her decent.
Gretta is unaware of sneaking candidates; she's too busy rubbing at her shoulder and frowning at Ilesyn. "I didn't /ask/ to have this assignment. I think some dragonrider thought it'd be -- fun." She spares a quick glance to said boots. "And they aren't mine, at any rate, so I don't care much what becomes of them." Her whiny partner's just now gathering up his buckets' spilled contents, sniffling in the rain, there. At least his steps are slower, more cautious.
From the lower bowl sky, Sylviath makes a few adjustments to capture the wind, and floats down. But she feels the cold air all around, and it is heavy with moisture. Not very good for gliding.
Ilesyn steps out of the way before Tarrant's elbow can meet its mark, though she does turn her head to follow Tarrant's gaze after the sneaking candidate, an almost inperceptible nod made. "Yes," she agrees, calmly, though her gaze returns to Gretta. "Yet another indication of how dragonriders fail to grasp the reality of life."
No Kyer wasn't! You didn't see her. She's just a mirage. Really. Kyer-who isn't here steadily creeps along, stopping every few feet to make sure she wasn't spotted. Once she gets that prickly feeling on the back of her neck, she'll be prone to stopping and placing her back flat against the wall. Motionless, near unblinking until that feeling passes. "And here I thought this would be a good time to come out," She mutters softly to herself, not nearly loud enough for the sound to carry the distance required, though gaze is fixed upon those gathered in the bowl. Great. What to do now?
Tarrant continues to eys Kyer on-the-sly, but asks of Ilesyn, "You mean the stuff they've left in empty weyrs? I've noticed others doing it, too. Non-riders, I mean."
Sylviath wings in from the central sky.
Sylviath lands with just a slight bounce to her step, and tries to avoid a few bits of puddles and mud. Her rider mutters something about it, but leans forward to pat his dragon's neck affectionately.
"By their boots?" Gretta's wrinkling her nose, now, not quite understanding. But she's distracted by all of Tarrant's glances, so she asks, bluntly, "What are you looking at?"
Sylviath turns her head over her shoulder, giving her lifemate a softly voiced fond warble. Any other thoughts she has for him are given silently.
"The /actual/ things, rather than the process," is Ilesyn's only answer to Tarrant, distracted. "The fact that some rider had green boots is indicative." Her attention - moving from Kyer, to the candidates around her - finally rests upon Sylviath, a smile crossing her lips as she tilts her head towards both green and rider.
K'dir climbs down from Sylviath's neck.
"Sylviath," Tarrant murmurs to Gretta. He doesn't want Kyer knowing he sees her.
"Almost there.." And Kyer is continuing her self-mumbling, steadilly creeping along the curve of the wall. She'd be quite the commical figure if she could see herself. Trying to blend in with rock that didn't quite match the shade of her cloak, and the fact that she wasn't doing the best job of sneaking around. There's no stopping just yet. Not with this overly suspiscious figure on the very edge of the bowl.. Almost there!
K'dir looks up at his dragon as he secures the ends of the riding straps. "Yes, I know, love. We can't help the mud." Je pats her shoulder, then smiles to the gathered Candidates as he is about to turn towards the Living Cavern. He offers a little wave.
"Oh." This cues Gretta, who turns to offer up a smile for a greeting. Her partner finally -- finally -- passes her by, hauling his two buckets; he gives Gretta a nasty stare, and for some reason, this reminds her of her own buckets. Which brings about the question: "Since this is all going in storage, is there anything you want? Ilesyn?-- green boots?"
K'dir walks off eastwards to the bright and cheerful living caverns.
Again, Tarrant does that odd thing of managing to keep one eye on the conversation at hand, and the other on Kyer's movements. "Hello, K'dir," he calls out to his friend. "Hello to you too, Sylviath," he murmurs to the green dragon.
A shake of the head, from Ilesyn. "They're probably the wrong size," she explains, of the boots. "And someone, no doubt, wants to make a statement with such... things." She nods after K'dir, turning attention back towards Kyer - a hesitant frown, head tilted to the side. Interesting.
"What's wrong with making a statement, Ilesyn?" Tarrant wonders aloud.
Sylviath takes a few steps closer to the candidates...and closer to where her rider has gone, too.
No.. nothing was interesting! Kyer is blissfully ignorant. Quite ignorant as she slips further towards the end. She's less then a dragons length away from the entrance to a certain place she does not go: Read Hatching Galleries.. and then it's one last furitive glance tossed over her shoulders. Candidates eyed, Candidates studied.. and then Kyer quickly makes an attempt to dash across the last few paces that'll carry her into the entrance.
Gretta's just about to call after K'dir, when he disappears. "Oh, mm. Do you think K'dir would care for anything? Though it's mostly junk." The candidate just so happens to be looking at Sylviath, when she says this -- though, though, she does squint at the moving figure, a far distance away. But it's drizzling, it's wet, and now Gretta's just wanting to get out of the cold. "You don't want the boots, do you, Tarrant?"
"Where /are/ you going, Kyer?" Ilesyn's voice carries clearly, right across the bowl after the other candidate. More quiet is her explanation to Tarrant, "It's the wrong kind of statement to make. It's a 'look at me, because I'm trying to tell you that I don't care, even though I really do' kind of statement. Not very healthy."
Tarrant watches Kyer as she seeks to 'disappear' towards the Galleries, but Ilesyn has made the move first. He shrugs slightly, and shakes his head to Gretta. "No thanks, Gretta. Not my size."
"Do we -- should we -- follow?" Gretta wonders, then, turning to at last really, really look in the same direction as the rest of them.
Caught! Guilty glance is sent towards the Candidates as Kyer pauses in mid dash. Foot planting back on the ground before she turns to glance over both her shoulders. "Me?" The nearly innocent reply comes, followed with a thumb pointed into her chest, "Going? No where. I was.. ah.. just going for a.. walk." Yes. Now she's trying to shuffle /away/ from the area she'd fought so hard to get to. How's that for luck?
Ilesyn's right eyebrows lifts in a classically amused, and downright skeptical, motion. "Yes, Kyer, and you're also secretly the Senior Weyrwoman of Telgar Weyr, hiding out because your Weyrleader doesn't love you." She takes a step away from the wall, which is potentially a good idea - the rain is sliding down the bowl walls in torrents, and Ilesyn's back is sodden.
Tarrant stifles the sudden urge to snicker at Kyer's attempts, and settles for, "We were wondering what you might be up to..." A slight arch of one of his own eyebrows mirrors that of Ilesyn's - though he has a half-smile to accompany it.
"And why are you *sneaking*?" Gretta's puzzled, oh but there's a curious look in her eyes, and, a beat after Ilesyn, she sidesteps her pair of buckets and walks, just a little, towards Kyer. Then, shifting her weight, she puts her hand on her hip. "Did you do something wrong?"
Sylviath spreads out both her wings from her sides, creating shelter from the rain..... SHe makes a soft crooning sound.
"Me?" Again with the feigned innocence. But alas, one can only hide matters for so long. "How'd you find out? I was /so/ careful to keep it a secret, you know." Pained expression then crosses her face as she makes haste from the scene of the crime, skittering across the bowl and towards the Candidates. "Now you can't tell anyone what Ilesyn just said. I'll trust my secret with you?" This was better then what she'd have come up with..so why not run with it. "Me?" Yes, it's back to repetition. "No. Nothing wrong. Didn't do a thing wrong.. Not up to anything either. Just..out for a walk is all."
Sylviath's movement catches Ilesyn's attention through the corner of her eye, and she shifts closer to utilise the shelter that the green's wings create. Intent, however, is her gaze upon Kyer. "You won't talk to me, Kyer? I know it's never easy to talk about-- things that are going on in your life, but it does help, I believe."
Gretta draws back, at Kyer's approach, underneath the shadow of Sylviath's wing. Buckets forgotten for the most part, she wraps her arms around her and rocks back on her heels, watching, silent.
Tarrant glances up at Sylviath spreading her wings, and waves to the green in thanks for her shelter. His gaze moves quickly back to the humans, peering at the small ring of faces, witing in silence.
Smile is allowed to appear as shelter is felt, or moreso noticed. "Me?" And gaze finds Ilesyn as Kyer instinctively straightens her shoulders from the stoop they'd shrunk into. "I've nothing to hide. Well besides that one little secret about me being who I am and all.. but you've already figured that out." Wain, near half jesting grin is offered to her fellow Candidate before she's sliding arms across her stomach, supressing a shiver as the others are glanced at, "And what are you two up to? In the rain, no less."
"Watching suspicious movements amid candidates," is Ilesyn's dry remark - as dry as she is wet, in fact, the water dripping down her neck, down her back.
"Moving junk to the storage caverns," Gretta informs matter-of-factly. Her lips slip into a grin, though, as she wonders casually, "Care for a pair of green boots?"
"I was enjoying some time away from the barracks, Kyer," Tarrant responds easily, "...even if I had to out in this cold rain to do it." A small nod at Ilesyn's comment.
Sylviath gives a comforting warble to those who have decided to take shelter from the rain beneath her wings.
"Suspiscious?" It's that one word that causes Kyer to glance back towards Ilesyn, a half smile offered. "I've..well I didn't want to inturrupt your conversation." Which was the truth. She wanted to pass by them without them seeing her. Which failed, but she wasn't going to say that. "Hmmm... Well you all seem to be doing..well." And this is offered to Gretta and Tarrant, the same grin bestowed upon them, before she's glancing towards the dragon sheltering them, "And my thanks to you as well. We're staying nice and dry here.."
"Sylvie /is/ a wonderful lady for taking us under her wing, so-to-speak," Tarrant grins up at the large green canopy the dragon has created. "And what ever would bring /you/ out into this rotten weather, Kyer?"
Ilesyn's expression registers the continuance of her disbelief. "Of course," she remarks, rather snidely. She, too, smiles up at Sylviath - showing most of her remaining teeth in a somewhat gruesome way; her smile is not particularly attractive.
Gretta gives a pleasant, if brief, smile to Sylivath, grateful like the rest of them. With eyes upon Kyer, though, she's not finished pushing the issue: "Heading to the galleries to have a look?"
"Oh she is," Kyer responds adimantly, "Not many who'd offer a wing as shelter to keep away the rain." Comment following these is purely interested, Kyer flickering her gaze back towards Ilesyn, "Oh?" Toned politely, in an earnest way, accompanied by a slight smile, "Maybe we should talk later.." Was Kyer actually suggesting this?
Sylviath turns her head slightly to better see into the cavern.
Upon Ilesyn's face, another smile appears-- somewhat less skeletal, though with the certain, nearly placid nuance that is usual to her. "Come find me in my office sometime," she suggests, rolling her shoulders - still without a candidate knot to be seen - backwards, pulling her hair out of the way with one hand. "I haven't seen the eggs since they were clutched," she adds, as a general comment to the group.
"I went to look -- for the first time -- just a sevenday or so ago," admits Gretta, casting a glance in the caverns' direction. "Some are hard to see. Osasune and I talked, mostly."
"They still look almost exactly the same - except they're harder, of course," Tarrant chimes in. "You really ought to take another look at the, Ilesyn. Quite lovely patterns."
"Office? Why not the barracks. You do find our company suiting, don't you?" Kyer asks, glancing towards Ilesyn's shoulder. Lack of knot is noted with a raised brow, "Or..maybe not." And then it's back to studying the mindhealer, "Anything wrong?" She's concerned..or appears to be at least. All mention of the eggs is just as well not heard, for all the attention Kyer gives the statement.
"I'm not interested in aesthetics," is Ilesyn's only remark, made with another shrug of her shoulders. "Nor eggs, for that matter. My office is more... conductive to discussion," she explains, further. "More quiet." She pauses. "Wrong? What would be wrong?"
Tarrant has no need of words, since the two women are providing apmle entertainment for the bored candidate. He simply remains silent, and watches.
Gretta can't help but quip, "You're right, Ilesyn: looking at the eggs might increase your chances of Impressing, wouldn't you say?" There's a quick, broad smile from her, before she's tilting her head to look past the group, watch the rain -- any lighter... or heavier?
"Well for one, you said office and not barracks. For another," And Kyer is pointing towards Ilesyn's shoulder, "You're missing something. Unless I'm just..pointing out something new to you and you've lost your knot in the mud out here. In which case, I think we'd all be more then happy to help you look for it." Anything that gets the attention off her is a good thing. "I'd be willing to help at least.." Kyer's not purposefully ignoring Tarrant and Gretta..she's just being selective in her hearing.
Ilesyn's expression goes dark. "Do you even want to /consider/ such an eventuality, Gretta? I can assure you, watching the eggs will have no bearing upon my Impression - which will not happen for entirely other reasons. If you'd kept a watch out, Kyer, you would notice that I'm hardly in the barracks at any point - and have yet to wear a candidate's knot."
Don't mind that man leaning against the rock wall. Tarrant is just a passive - if ardent - observer right now.
Gretta nods sharply, returning in a -- faked -- solemn tone, "Right. You asked to Stand, for solely research purposes. I remember our conversation." Then she loudly asks of Kyer, since she's failed to acknowledge any of her other questions, "Have you gone to gawk at the eggs, dear Kyer?"
"No, actually.. I've been.. pre-occupied." Kyer comments, looking shocked for the first time in hearing of Ilesyn's statement, "Did either of you notice that?" Gaze then flicks to Tarrant and Gretta both, eyes that then narrow as Kyer shakes her head. "Nope. Not yet." Even if she doesn't glance Tarrant's way while saying that.. "That's too bad Ilesyn.. I mean, you've missed some interesting things that've happened in the Barracks."
Tarrant moves his eyes to Ilesyn. "I /didn't/ know the reason behind your lack of a candidate's knot, though I noticed it, Ilesyn. But asking for candidacy." A small chuckle. "I think only you would have the cujones to pull /that/ one off successfully."
Ilesyn has no qualms about propogating this myth about her candidacy, and merely smiles - it's not so much a lie, as a failure to tell the whole truth. "I've caught a few interesting things in the barracks," she promises. "Enough to give more details to my paper, which is all that I'm after, anyway." Tilting her head to the side, she asks of Kyer, "What have you been preocuppied with, then?"
"Would love to stay," Gretta's muttering, heading back to her buckets, "but I best get rid of these before they overflow with water." Their contents are already soggy. Tilting one bucket over, just a bit, she drains the water and stays -- just long enough to hear Kyer's reason.
K'dir ambles in from the bright and cheerful living cavern.
"Oh staying out of way of errant Runners and Candidates who have absolutely *no* idea of what they're doing in stables.. Trying not to poke myself silly with needles that I find around every bend and corner of the storage caverns.." Sneaking off to areas she never visits, "Getting to know my fellow Candidates.." The list could go on.. and she would, if she hadn't suddenly stopped talking. "Oh.. well take care then Gretta!" Kyer calls after her fellow Candidate, waving a hand in departual offerings.
K'dir comes out with his jacket pulled tightly around his neck, shoulders hunched, and despite his attempts to move quickly and get to his dragon, he's limping. As soon as he spots Ilesyn, he heads straight for her.
Gretta's disappointed with Kyer's explanation; her expression clearly shows this, even if she's bending over to drain, then pick, both her buckets. "Have a, uh, drier day." Then, passing K'dir with a quick smile and nod, she drips her way onto the caverns.
Tarrant abandons his distant mein, and walks out to K'dir - waving to the departing Gretta. "Need a hand, my friend?"
Ilesyn's not blind to K'dir-- her gaze catches his limp, turns querilous, and is then interrupted - if only for a moment - to nod after Gretta. "K'dir," she adds. "Your ankle playing up again?" Kyer is saved from further commentary by the arrival of the greenrider.
K'dir gives a little shake to his head. "No, thank you," he says at almost a whisper to Tarrant, but is still glad for the taller man's closeness. But his voice is a bit louder as he calls out to the Healer. "Islesyn? Yes, I need your help. It has a terible ache in it, from all the cold and damp, I suppose. Do you have any numbweed I can rub into it, please?" He looks at Elesyn with imploring eyes.
Tarrant keeps close to the greenrider, walking with him to get under Sylviath's sheltering wing. He remains silent, his attention given mostly to K'dir.
Kyer is going to chose this moment to make her escape, timing her disappearance wtih Grettas. It being as good as it was considering attention is off her once again. "You know what.. I just remembered.. chores.. And.. yeah." A flash of a smile is offered, before K'dir is actually spotted and Kyer is frowning. All attempts at leaving are forgotten while she glances at the ankle, "You need any help K'dir?"
K'dir reaches out with one hand to grab Tarrant's arm for support while bending his left knee, to ease off some weight from his foot. He's gritting his teeth.
K'dir says tightly in response to Gretta, "Thank you, but I'll be fine." He manages a smile for her.
"Not on me," admits Ilesyn, gaze narrowing slightly in concern. "The infirmary. Numbweed, and hot towels are in order, I believe." She takes a step forward, adding, "Kyer, do you want to take K'dir's other side, and help him, with Tarrant? Be still, K'dir. Try not to put any weight on it."
The young greenrider says, "I don't mean to be troublesome, honest...It just got worse and worse as the day went on, and now...." He keeps his hold of his friend's arm, trying not to show pain, but just get to the infirmary as quickly as possible.
Tarrant lightly puts a steadying arm around the greenrider's back, holding him other arm stiffly, so K'dir can lean on it as much as he needs. The hunter nods to Ilesyn. "I can carry him, if you think that'd be better for the injury."
K'dir promises quickly, "No, that's all right...I'm sure I can make it as far as the infirmary..."
"I'll go ahead and tell 'em to set up some things." Kyer comments, turning one last glance around the small group before she's backing away and heading straight for the caverns entrance, boots making muddied imprints on the ground..and later a trail leading straight to the infirmary.
Sylviath looks down to her rider, makes a near groan of inquiry, and then croons softly, giving him promises of support and love.
Ilesyn shakes her head. "A good thought, Tarrant, but as K'dir says, not necessary. Just support him, so he doesn't have to put too much weight onto it." For herself, she merely takes great strides towards the infirmary, a glance back to ensure that the other two are not lagging too much behind. Kyer gets a brief, vague nod, as the healer steps into the infirmary.
You amble southeastwards to the Weyr's infirmary.
Tarrant supports K'dir as they and Ilesyn make it into the Infirmiry - and he helps the young man take a seat. "I thought it would be getting better by now," he murmurs with concern.
K'dir shivers as he sits down. "It was. It's just that the wet and cold have started it aching." He pulls his leg so that it is stretched out in front of him. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be such a bother."
"Injuries often flare up in the wet," is Ilesyn's only comment, as she seeks out the numbweed, and a towel warmed in front of the hearth. Stepping back towards K'dir and Tarrant, she promises, "it's not a bother, K'dir. Far better that you get help for it, than suffer more permenant damage."
Tarrant nods sagely, waving off the other man's apologies. "Don't be sorry. Just get better."
K'dir simply nods his head at that, and tried to lean forward to unlace his boot.
Ilesyn waves a hand at K'dir, "Let me do that," she instructs, quickly, reaching to push his hands away - if he'll let her - and do it for herself. "You just settle back."
Tarrant quirks an eyebrow as he settle back against a near wall to watch. "You don't want to irritate Ilesyn, do you, Kav?" A small wink of humor is given to the rider.
K'dir pulls back willingly enough, his hands tightly fripping the sides of the seat, and leaning back slightly. He nods, quiet.
Ilesyn pulls off the boot - her hands are cold, and somewhat wet from the rain, as is the rest of her. "I'm such a nasty creature to irritate," she adds, somewhat lightly - as if unaware of the truth in this statement. The numbweed tub is opened, and she begins to smother it over the ankle.
K'dir closes his eyes tightly and his breath becomes a hiss through gritted teeth as something touches his ankle.
Tarrant waits nearby, if anything should need to be fetched in a hurry. Otherwise, he simply stays out of the way, watching and listening intently.
Ilesyn's not the gentlest of creatures, not even when healing - but at least the numbweed works quickly, so any pain she causes is not likely to last for long. "Sorry."
K'dir starts breathing again in a few moments. "S'all right," he says. "That is helping. Thank you," he says to the hearler, his eyes full of gratitude. "I just want to get up to my weyr now and go to sleep."
From just outside the doorway, a Lone Green Stealth Dragon huddles to keep out of the rain and to worry and warble softly for her rider.
Tarrant looks from rider to Healer. "I'll give you a bit of aide up onto Sylvie, okay?"
Ilesyn tilts her head forward, wiping her hands upon the unused towel. "Sleep is a good thing. Tarrant? You want to help K'dir--" she breaks off, nodding. "Good."
K'dir starts to stand, then cries out in pain. A shudder runs through him. "On second thought...is it all right if I just stay here tonight?"
Sylviath lumbers in from the center bowl.
Tarrant darts instantly forward to steady K'dir, and looks up with concern at ilesyn.
Ilesyn nods rapidly, ignoring the glances of other healers in the infirmy - she might wear the knot of a healer, but she's never been one of their fold, especially since her candidacy began. "Absolutely," she promises. "Make yourself comfortable. We don't want any extra damage done."
K'dir reaches out for the nearest cot, and with Tarrant's much appreciated help, lies down upon it. His still booted right foot he dangles over the edge of the cot in an uncomfortable way. Then he tries to prop himself up enough to pull off his wet jacket. It's just hit him now how tired he is, too.
Tarrant takes that wet jacket and hangs it over the back of one of the chairs. "Just relax, Kav. I see Sylvie's just outside here, so both of you should be fine."
Ilesyn kneels, to remove the boot on that other foot, putting both of them on the floor - untidily, and certainly not lined up. "Do you want another blanket?" she asks, rising to her feet again. "We don't want you cold."
K'dir gives a little nod. "Yes, please," he asks.
Again, Tarrant just stands by, there if he's needed, but unobtrusive until then.
Ilesyn turns, crossing the room in search of the linen cupboard, where the blankets can be found on the top shelf. She pulls one down, carrying it quickly back towards K'dir, glancing at Tarrant as she passes, though she, too, says nothing, merely spreading the blanket out atop K'dir.
K'dir shifts around just a little bit, getting comfortable in a strange bed, the air flowing arround him in a different way, the warmth and echo of the room not right, but safe enough with Sylviath starting a soft, sleepy croon behind him. With her influence, and the fact that now he's starting to lose all feeling in his left foot and ankle, thankfully, he falls into a near instant sleep. The warmth from the extra blanket helps to soothe him, too. ANd mostly, he's got friends here with him, and feels safe.
Tarrant watches his friend sink slowly into slumberland, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. "Well, thanks Faranth for Healers," he murmurs softly. "Even hard-handed ones." A wink to Ilesyn. "I'd better go, now that he's okay. Take care Ilesyn." And then the hunter leaves on silent feet.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:48 PM