[Log] Taken Care Of
Who: E'sere, Issa, Tavaly, T'zen
When: Day 5, Month 6, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
What: E'sere stops by to cheer up the infirm.
It's morning in the infirmary, and the healers have just finished a shift change. Though relatively quiet, it's noisy enough to wake T'zen from the light fitful sleep he was dozing in. Idly, he reaches up to scratch the new stubble on his chin. Shaves are still left a few days apart here.. but he might be due again now. With some effort, he manages to get his head off the pillow, so that he can peer about the room, see what he can see as he blinks away the remainders of sleep.
It is, finally, a day off for 2C--even with one of its members badly injured, E'sere can't afford to let up and have more of them suffer in 'Fall. But this weekly break provides the wingleader with time and opportunity to finally go check on T'zen and Issa alike. He arrives at the infimary early, stepping carefully inside and proceeding down the row of cots until finally he arrives at the foot of the bluerider's. "Good morning," he greets the pair, noting their wakefulness. "How are you feeling?"
"Morning, Issa," T'zen replies, his voice a bit gravelly. He offers a wrinkled nose at her meal. "That time again, eh?" Okay, that's enough holding his head up. Plop it goes back on the pillow with a sigh of relief. Just in time for E'sere to appear and greet. Ugh. But he's not up to trying the head raise again just yet. "Wingleader," he responds after clearing his throat clear of some roughness. "Tryin' to avoid bein' hungry." Already a bowl is on its way to the man.
"It is," Issa confirms, swinging her mug down to its place on the tray again and retrieving her spoon with her left hand. Hesitantly brave, she dips it into the bowl and lifts the steaming bit of blandly colored, sticky substance to her lips. But E'sere provides a welcome distraction from the actual eating of the gruel. "Morning, wingleader," is the second greeting within the span of mere minutes, "Doing much better. The both of us." With the way that her eyes slide across to T'zen, though, you'd think she just jinxed the whole of his recovery. After that quick assessment, she finally does bite down over that spoonful, chewing laborously until it's swallowed. In appearance, she does seem quite improved. But then, her injuries were always of the more hidden sort anyway, the only evidence being that clunky cast over her right hand.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner," E'sere tells the pair. "Good to see you both looking better, though. Any news on when you'll be able to leave? The wing's missing you, T'zen--it's not the same without Uneth showing everyone up," he notes with a smile for the rider. He steps aside when the person moves to bring him his meal, the wingleader pulling up a nearby chair to stay a while.
The healer's assistant approaching T'zen's cot takes the liberty of piping in for the man. "T'zen here is improving. At this rate, we should be able to let him out in another seven." He takes a glance at E'sere. "I'm afraid it will be longer than that before he should be flying anything more than the sweeps.. and certainly no betweening." The unnamed assistant checks the bluerider's chart, as though confirming his words, and then approaches the bluerider. "And we have a treat for you today." Beam. T'zen's brows go up slightly, but it's the infirmary, What could they have that's edible? Still, he has to ask, "No mush today?" The assistant merely laughs. "No, no. You still must have your sustenance. One of the journeyman will clear you on other foods.. perhaps soon. No!" He pulls out several pillows. "It's safe enough to allow you to change your view a bit. T'zen's response? "Oh."
Issa's eyebrows also arch upward at T'zen's suggestion of no more gruel, her spoon again stalled halfway to her mouth as she awaits the answer. But at the assistants laugh, she grudgingly finishes the bite, chewing it down while she tries to conceal the effort that it takes. A content little smile forms on her lips, frozen there no matter what passes them, and she watches those across from her with a mild interest. E'sere's question, if it was directed to her, goes unanswered. He's not her wingleader, after all. Slowly, almost guiltily, she drops her spoon and snakes her hand over to the klah mug again, intent on another sip.
"I'll keep him straight," E'sere promises the healer solemnly, for all his eyes are amused. "And if I can't, I'll send Tavaly." He glances back to the man then, smiling again. "So. You're both doing better. I... Mm. There's been a lot of talk and very little substance in the lower caverns so far. I wanted to come sooner, but I was... held up by other business." His smile is briefly grim then.
T'zen growls, "Little substance, my-" Spoonful of gruel. Rather accurate with those spoonfuls, the assistant his, cutting off T'zen's retort. The assistant is earned a glare, even as the bowl is now set aside, and T'zen is helped up to a more lounging position, aided by pillows. T'zen has the stuff cleared out of his mouth by the time the healer's asking if he's comfortable, if there's extra pain, etc. "Well enough," is T'zen overall response, before looking back at E'sere, now a much easier job, being propped up. "So what's the talk yer gettin'?" He eyes another incoming spoonful.
Issa's pale eyes find E'sere while the lower half of her face is concealed by the curve of her cup, and stare openly for the time it takes to down a large gulp. Mug lowered, she says, teasingly, "The lower caverns will talk and E'sere will be busy. Two unavoidable truths." Also unavoidable is the worry in her gaze as she watches T'zen settle into his new position, and his answer to the assistant does little to soothe it away. She shifts, slowly, having to deal with the presence of the tray as well as a lingering, dull ache, so that she more directly faces the activity in their direction. One foot now drapes off the edge of the cot and the pillows behind her a little more off-kilter, but she awaits E'sere's response without a second thought for those little inconveniences.
E'sere, watching the healer tend to T'zen, notes, "Anything from you're fine and faking to you're still on death's doorstep. Many rumors about who might be responsible, too." He breaks his solemn words with a brief flash of grin for Issa's tease. Then, just as soberly, he continues, "Theories on whether it's part of the anti-Igen movement, or someone independent of it. The majority of them know nothing, but they're scared anyway that they'll be next, if two competent riders can be hurt this badly."
"Talking about me, eh?" T'zen asks, grinning. "Well, I'll be-" Spoonful of gruel. This time his glare is timed with his hands reaching up and yanking the bowl out of the assistant's hand. "Gimme that," he command, gesturing to the spoon. "Only if you eat it," the assistant chides, waving the spoon at him. T'zen mutters his consent, receives the spoon, and sticks it in the bowl, where it stays for the moment. The assistant merely stands and moves away with an indulgent smirk at E'sere, apparently choosing to be oblivious to the topic. Now it's T'zen's turn to look at E'sere, though he doesn't indulge a smirk. "Fake this?! Shards, it's driving me nuts stayin' here." He snorts. "Rumors. Got some fact. 'Twas a woman. The one goin' after Jensen.. that attacked Roa. I'd wager she's the one what got Tavaly as well." He glances at Issa. "Aimin' at the wrong folk if it's anti-Igen. This kind o' things gonna make folk rally behind the new leaders instead of rebel." There's a gem of wisdom in the bluerider after all. Must be the gruel. He stares at the bowl on his lap, frowning.
Sometime during E'sere's answer, Issa's turned her face down to watch the oh-so-exciting gruel in her bowl. Reshaping its surface with her awkwardly shaky spoon, she notes succinctly, "It's not. Anti-Igen." A small bit of the stuff is fielded into her mouth before she says any more, however, and they have to wait. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, spoon still dangling, she muffles out, "She told me it wasn't." Her eyes switch between the both of them as she swallows for good then, her hand lowered to the edge of the bowl once again. "You're guess was dead-on," she directs toward E'sere, ignoring the badly chosen adjective. Or maybe it was purposeful. "There's two factions at work. This woman... whoever she is... doesn't care about Igen. She's after something else." Her voice has grown quiet, only just traversing the distance between the cots.
E'sere waits until the healer has moved away to offer T'zen and Issa another grim smile. "As a matter of fact, I... already knew this. I've seen that the matter is taken care of," he tells the pair quietly. "It was an independent party with some sort of personal vendetta against some of the people here, but you needn't be worrying about it now. She won't be back to trouble either of you." His smile then is soothing, reassuring, for all the dire implications of his words.
T'zen jerks forward off the pillows at E'sere's response, "What?!" And instantly the rider's in pain, collapsing back on the pillows with a teeth-clenched cry. The bowl has tipped sideways between the man's legs. The gruel- stays put. The assistant is instantly at the man's side again, a calculating glance given E'sere as he helps the bluerider settle and cautioning him from moving, despite his "freer" position. The bowl is retrieved, and this time, the healer chooses to delay the meal. But he cautions E'sere, "Please, don't upset our patient here." The or else is left unsaid, but the assistant assumes it needn't be with the wingleader. He moves off again, leaving T'zen where he is, breathing carefully again, managing to get out. "Taken care of.. how?"
And the greenrider is instantly distracted from E'sere's news by the bluerider's pain, gaze flying to his face, uttering a quick, whispered warning, though she's helpless to do much else. "T'zen!" With a wincing sigh, she sees him resettled before she turns back to E'sere. Issa's response is lacking the proper gratitude for the wingleader's kind efforts, that's for sure. Instead of a gracious smile, a gentle frown spoils her calm composure and she drops her spoon lightly into the bowl. It fairly bounces against the gruel. Her voice isn't given the free reign T'zen gives his, letting the expectant silence that follows the blueriders question do the talking for her.
Freshly washed, a little less of a ghost. T'zen's been awake, so say the assistants. Unfortunately, it's always at times that she's called to duty, either to herself or her Weyrlings, or whatever else. This time it was to Immath. And behind her, both entering the dragonside, the green croons softly upon first sighting Uneth among the ranks. Long, calloused fingers are working wet hair into a tight braid at the back of her neck when the tell-tale sound of T'zen's voice shrieking in indignation - and then discomfort - pull her out of it. Bugger off, hair. Braid coming loose as she dashes, Tav comes upon the little meeting with an almost accusatory eye for those hovering around the bluerider's bed. "Uh.. You okay?" She asks, strictly speaking to her weyrmate with a small side-smile to Issa.
"I'm sorry," E'sere apologizes at once to the healer, expression appropriately contrite until she leaves. Then, he slips right back into his earnest mode, glancing between the pair. "I finally managed to find a good lead on the matter, though I wish I could have done so sooner, before this went so far. I didn't personally handle it, however, so I can't say. I didn't really care to know, beyond knowing that you--and the rest of my friends--would be safe in the future," he answers apologetically. Then: "Good morning, Tavaly." He spares a brief half-smile for the greenrider.
T'zen closes his eyes as he focuses on his breathing for a moment, and opens them when he hears Tavaly's familiar voice. A smile isn't ready on his face as he first looks at her, and than narrows his eyes toward E'sere. "I want to know. I wanna see proof ya got this woman." And then finally, he returns his gaze to Tavaly, eyes turning weary. "Tav. Look. I'm all propped up now. All the better t'feed me dirt." Uneth warbles at Immath as she enters, and reaches over to offer a nuzzle. He's in a bit of better spirits, it seems.
Issa has time only to return Tavaly's quick smile before her eyes flick back to the wingleader. "If you didn't handle it personally," she begins, her tone idly wondering, "then how can you be so sure?" There's a passing moment of scrutiny before Issa turns down to her breakfast again. "You'll have to excuse me, E'sere. I tend not to trust secondhand information much more than I do secondhand rumors. They both tend to get skewed in the transfer." And the fact that she was tied up and tormented by this mysterious person may have produced a slight bias when it comes to accepting the fact that the danger has now simply disappeared. But all that goes unspoken, and she turns, with a new tension to her lips, to eat more gruel.
"So you shouldn't, Issa." Tavaly says cryptically, one or maybe even two eye skirting over to E'sere for the moment. "I want to know, as well. If I've been denied the ability to repay whatever shoddy little excuse of a woman injured those closes to me, I want to know why and who to thank and or pummel into the dirt." Tav says, venomous. She knees next to T'zen's bedside, her hand taking his up gently. "I'll bring fruitsauce and some softmeat for you soon. I got the go ahead for at least that from some of the healer. Think that'll do ya better than dirt?"
"Of course," E'sere agrees easily, with another half-smile for the bluerider. "I understand, of course. I trust my associate's word, but I understand that you cannot so easily. I'll see what I can do for you, T'zen, Issa." Tavaly, too, he favors with a wry, almost-sad smirk. "I understand," he repeats. "But you see, of course, why I can't let you go charging into this, Tavaly. She had already injured you once--among many other people, not all of whom I know about myself, I'm sure. I'm not about to send her victims straight back to her so she can finish the job."
T'zen nods with Issa. Chromatics unite! He finally offers a small grin to Tavaly, readily accepting her hand in his, and demonstrating returning strength with a squeeze. "I will take /anything/, so long as it comes from the /real/ kitchen. Might even enjoy yer teas." He amends quickly, "The non-medicated ones." Though he may take those as well, just to change the taste in his mouth. He sort of half-nods with E'sere. "Yes, proof would be good. Dead? Exiled? Any other option ain't acceptable." He glances at Tavaly. "No more bein' alone. Charge in pairs, 'least." Way to dissuade the greenrider vengeance! And finally, another look at E'sere. "You seem to know a lot."
Tavaly earns herself a snippet of a grateful glance, for more than just the verbal support, spared over the rim of her klah mug as she washes down the blandness of gruel. Even the good news of a return of flavor to their food, however, doesn't stir her completely from the topic at hand. Accompanying the clank of the mug being set down is Issa carefully, painfully clearing her throat. Once she's recovered to the little jolt at her injured ribs, however, she speaks again. "Then let someone else charge in. Several, non-victim someones, even," she clarifies pointedly, drawing from T'zen's directive as her eyes turning up to E'sere though she doesn't raise her chin. "If you have such a good lead, then we have to act." Her fingers trace along the handle of the spoon, searching out the right grip before she takes it up again. Then, quieter, a remnant of some information she's imparted to important ears earlier in her infirmary stay, "She's not going to stop. And there's no logic to it from what I can see." Her words steer clear of the accusatory sounds of T'zen's words, instead gauging the well-informed wingleader's reaction to a different, subtler tactic. She still watches him intently, but dispels the gravity of her study by filling her mouth with the mundane gruel.
"What I want most, E'sere, is a name that I can curse, instead of having some translucent menace hovering in my head. Live or dead, it won't matter to me just so long as I have that one small thing to curse and then forget. Can you give us that much, at least? A name?" Tav asks from her kneeling place beside the bluerider. Issa calls the girl's attention and, standing, Tav leans like a toughgirl against the table siding the cot. Arms cross, though one of them still dangles down to maintain that oh-so-needed connection with the wounded T'zen. "Difference is, I didn't get to fight 'er face to face. She dropped cows on me, and that's just low. Given the chance, I could prolly take 'er." Mutter mutter. "Oh, right. T'zen." She digs in one of her pockets, withdrawing the scrap of cloth she snuck out of his hand. "Dunno how much good it'll do you, but.. here." She offers.
"No, it's not," E'sere agrees again with T'zen, nodding curtly. In answer to the latter question, he notes, "I've had all my friends listening for anything that might help since this began. We've turned up precious little before now. But. As I said, it's taken care of, Issa. Already," he tells the greenrider gently. "No, she wouldn't have stopped, not until we made her. Her name was Peria--you may have heard of her. She was the supposed victim of some minor thefts early on, as cover apparently. The guards questioned her and then let her go--coincidentally, in perfect timing for her to attack the two of you."
"Peria," T'zen echoes once a name is given. "I look forward to knowing what's done with her." He looks back up at the menacing greenrider.. who's also tenderly holding his hand. Such is their relationship. He offers a bemused smile, mostly to himself, as he carresses the knuckles of her hand with his thumb. With hunger beginning to set in, his mind's on real food. But as he hasn't voiced that yet, it's Tavaly receiving that dreamy-eyed look. And then the piece of cloth is received, and T'zen looks at it. "Was afraid ya might've tossed it. Huh." He looks back at E'sere now, waving his free hand with the dark torn fabric. "My trophy. Peria's got a torn tunic."
And Issa's still gnawing on the fake food, another spoonful delaying the reply that seems to be coming. But the mention of a name has her pausing even further, mouth working silently over the pronounciation of that name long after the gruel's gone, summoning up the instances where she's heard that name before. There's a flicker of a frown as she comes up short, but the frustration is taken out on the gruel, her spoon jabbed into the heart of the lifeless grey stuff. And the glance that she favors E'sere with soon after is quieted from the intensity it held during her questioning, the name a reassuring addition to the situation. "Well," she muses, still a bit confused as her eyes wander over the other three, "we'll see if it's been stopped or not, I suppose." Cynicism, for sure, but it's ceased to be directed at E'sere in particular.
"I'm sure I speak for all of us here when I say that we appreciate your information, sir." Wingleader deserves respect, in this instance, at least. "I dunno 'bout T'zen or Issa, but the only absolute I'm sure of is dead, and in this situation, having a ghost to watch our backs for is almost as troublesome as havin' a known body floating around with pointy objects in hand." Tav sinks down to the bedside, catching the look given by T'zen. Huh. Hiieee. A small, almost embarrassed twitch of her mouth spawns a momentary smile. "However, this is a step forward, if anything. I'm still gonna be on my guard, though."
E'sere reaches out to take the torn fabric for himself, to study it. "A torn tunic. Very well. I'll pass that on," he says solemnly. "I'm certain we can match it. And let us hope so." The latter, to Issa. "I doubt there were others with her, but I also doubt we've ended all the violence. There are still anti-Igenites out there willing to do things as terrible as this girl did, I'm sure. Capturing two of them is enough to send them underground for a time, but I doubt it's enough to end it entirely." He frowns. "And by all means--I'm not asking you to do that," he adds to Tavaly. "Even with this person gone, the Weyr's hardly a safe place right now."
T'zen blinks a bit, realizing the person he'd happened to be dreaming was a roast wherry with all the trimmings has suddenly come closer. Oh, Tavaly. Hiieee. His grin widens briefly when he catches her smile, and squeezes her hand again before focusing on E'sere. "Take it, then," he says, nodding to the scrap. "But I want it back." He frowns now, muttering to Tav. "Okay.. now I /am/ hungry. So.. real food /now/ or /soon/?" He turns pleading eyes on the girl.
Issa draws up her klah mug with her left hand. The right joins to meet, a mindless action that's proven useless as the rigid cast thumps against the mug. Lowering it again, frowning over the inconvenience, she settles back into the pillows, seemingly done with the gruel. Her breakfast has been soured, and apparently it's an unwelcome change from the tasteless texture. Cradling her cup with her single good hand, she lets her eyes wander, unfocused, across the morning bustle of the infirmary. "We'll all keep our guard up," she agrees, in her own little way, with Tavaly. "And you'll remember our agreement, E'sere?" Issa then prompts, turning her face slowly until she's come to stare up at the wingleader again. "I want to know." There's no specification to what she wants to know; by inference, it can be assumed to be 'everything.'
"Just wait a moment, you hound." Tav says, eyes now skirting every moment or two towards the exit near the caverns.. On time. Good. A young kitchen boy comes down to the infirmary bearing a tray laden with two bowls and two plates. Some sort of mashed-fruit like applesauce, and a plate of fresh, soft bread and thinly sliced meatrolls. He skirts past a couple groups of healers assistants and makes his way over to the group. "Here 'go, Tavvy. This okay?" The boy asks, to which the greenrider nods. "Perfect. Your treasure's hidden in the stores behind the flour sacks." She whispers and the boy scoots off rapidly. Smiling, Tav sets the tray on the side table and grabs a bowl and plate and, 360'ing, moves to Issa's bed. "Thought you might want something else to choke down, too." She says, setting both items on the woman's sidetable. For whenever she's ready. Finally, she makes her way back and pulls the second bowl and plate down for T'zen. "Weyr would be safer if everyone knew how t'defend themselves. Might make
that suggestion to J'cor, sometime. Defense classes taught by the guards. I know a few people are doin' it, but that's the sort of thing everyone could benefit from."
"Of course," E'sere agrees with T'zen as he slides the scrap of cloth into his pockets. "And--" he hesitates, frowning slightly "--you understand, of course, that I'd rather this remained just between the four of us. While I do appreciate very much everything the guards have done for us recently, it would be poetic justice for them to detain the person who stops the murderer they let go, if you understand me. No slight meant, of course, to your brother the captain, Tavaly. Defense lessons would be very useful, but I don't think we've enough teachers to accomondate a thousand students, unfortunately." He offers the greenrider a half-smile then. And, lastly to Issa: "I know. I remember."
Oh, it's Turnday! T'zen's eyes light up, eyeing the not-mush eagerly. "Ain't told ya I love ya today, yet, Tavvy," the man says, unconsciously mirroring the boy's nickname for the greenrider, and probably suddenly looking about as young. "So, shards, girl, I love ya." There's a wince now, as he starts to lean forward again in his eagerness, only to have pain warning him back. He settles agains the pile of pillows, and eyes the just-out-reach tray, and then over to Issa, grinning, in spite of the throb in his belly. "Aye. Get rid of the dirt, Issa. We're feastin' now." On sauce and slices. But whatever.. that is a FEAST. He nods quickly to E'sere as a barely noted aside, "Quiet, sure," before eyeing his own food portions hungrily. "Taaav.. move it closer."
"You, Tavaly," Issa begins, eyes greedily following the progression of that bowl, "are a hero." A right bunch of heroes, all of them, yes indeed. She removes the offending gruel bowl, taking it off the tray and dropping it, more lightly than it probably deserves, to the floor next to her cot for later removal. This leaves ample room for the arriving food- the real food. There's hesitation on her part, however, and she slides a glance over to T'zen. Though her smile comes easily at his jibe about dirt, she waits still, until he's settled with his own feast, before indulging in hers. Taking advantage of the minor delay, she shoots E'sere a guarded glance. "Good," is all she mutters.
"Secrets between wingmates are always safe." She glances over to Issa a moment, and smirks. "After all. We've been in this situation before. What with the Anti-Igen Brigade flying Nabol, a certain amount of secrecy was called upon then. You know by now that we're trustworthy folk." Tav turns to favor E'sere with a short, fond smile. Yea. Those were awesome times. Issa's statement of heroism is met with a big grin. "I've tasted the stuff in here. No wonder people get sick." A wrinkling of the nose. Ugh. Plunking into a nearby chair, Tav's eyes begin to slowly droop. Another sleepless night. Even with T'zen feeling better, she's on a terribly vigilant watch.. That is, of course, up until the point where her body's like.. um.. 'knock it off!'. Which is very soon.
E'sere regards T'zen with a quirked brow, smile wry; apparently, he's not very reassured by T'zen's reply. Somebody's dealt with a big-mouthed bluerider before. Still, he nods once and glances back between the two greenriders. He favors Tavaly in particular with a smile, nodding. "I know. Perhaps I'm just as paranoid as all of you now," he notes lightly.
"Wait 'til a cow steps on you." Tav chimes quietly.
The out-of-reach tray is now in T'zen's lap. Else he would have continued to whine. And there's no ceremony, no lingering of appreciation. T'zen starts in on the food as though he hadn't eaten the whole seven. Right up until his attending healer barks across the room, "Slow down!" Having seen the sudden motion coming from a normally still patient. T'zen is forced to savor his meal. Which, really, is a good thing all around.
It's so soon after the bluerider attacks his food that the greenrider starts herself that it may well seem simultaneous. Issa sets into her little feast with a bit more delicacy than T'zen, though, spoon sinking, if not deftly then at least functionally, into the fruitsauce and returning with a small bite at its tip. She rolls her eyes a bit at the first taste, but doesn't lose herself in the indulgence, instead favoring the sleepy-eyed Tavaly with an amused smile. Then she adds, cryptically innocent, to E'sere, "Maybe that's a good thing." More of the sauce then is quickly ferried up to her mouth, making more words highly unlikely, if not impossible.
Aaaand there it goes. The chin, now resting over her arms as they cross over the chair-back, sinks lower. Tav's slouched posture sitting backwards in the chairs gains a little more gravity as, with her eyelids, she, too, drops. Right into a light sleep, in the reverent quiet of the infirmary. T'zen's well enough to squawk at E'sere, so.. things are looking up. Now she can rest, a little.
"Probably," E'sere tells Issa lightly, as though whatever deeper meaning her words possess were lost on him. To judge by the look he gives her then, that studied bland smile, it's not. He looks away after a moment, favoring Tavaly with a soft smile as she drifts off. "I should be on my way, and let you rest and eat," he notes as he stands himself. "I'll stop by again, and we can talk more." Again, it's to Issa he looks, more than T'zen.
T'zen snarfs.