Just Like Yevide
IC Date: Day 15, Month 7, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: E'sere, Vanya, Essdara, Roa
Location: Vanya's Room, Infirmary
Synopsis: It's a night of horror for Vanya when E'sere is poisoned after eating dinner in her room. Fortunately, Essdara comes to check on how Vanya weathered Immath's flight, and shows up exactly when she's needed. It's touch and go for the Wingleader, and Vanya gets to meet Roa, the newest Junior Weyrwoman of High Reaches. Log blatantly stolen from E'sere's LJ. (Warning: some description of the treatment may be a bit stomach-wrenching, but it's accurate.)
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
The later it gets, the more anxious Vanya grows. After the nerve-wracking experience at the flight, Vanya did exactly as she said, she remained there outside until it was all over, heard no screams from T'zen, just grumbling from the losers. A couple of times being grabbed and propositioned, she decided that things inside were fine, and she could get away. She called off the night shift, ignored dinner and went straight to her room. There she she sat waiting to see if Vey managed to get her message to E'sere. Nervous. Pacing her small area, chewing on a thumbnail as what seem like days pass. Finally, she hears the soft knock, rushes to the door to ask, "Who is it?" Hoping the right name will be given.
"It's me," answers the voice. A pause. "E'sere." Looking a little disheveled after his own experiences at the flight, along with an otherwise long day, E'sere waits outside, tugging at his shirt to straighten it while he waits to be let in.
The door opens a heartbeat later. "You came," Vanya breathes, and there's relief coupled with about a hundred other emotions wrapped up in those words. "I was afraid --" She reaches a hand and pulls him inside, closing the door behind herself. "E'sere -- I was afraid Vey wouldn't find you, or that something would happen during the flight. That I wouldn't be in time." She's a right mess, herself. Wrinkled gown, dusty skirts, hair awry. But she moves forward, not giving him a choice. Vanya wraps her arms around him tightly, holding him, pressing her head to his chest. "I was so afraid I'd be too late!"
"It's okay, it's okay," E'sere tells Vanya soothingly as he slips in and lets Vanya shut the door, then slides his own arms around her. "I'm here now, and I'm okay. I'd have come sooner, but Morelenth had to chase, of course--he always does when it's one of our wing. But it's okay." He pauses a moment as he glances down at her. "Vey. Ah. Yes, she found me and told me you needed to speak to me. She sounded very worried about you? What's wrong?"
There's silence for a long time, maybe while Vanya composes herself. "I ... Oh, E'sere, I'm scared," she whispers. "I don't know what to do. I --" Forcing herself to be calmer, to form the words, to make them coherent. "I think ... I think I know who's behind all of the bad," she whispers now. "Oh, Faranth, E'sere, I think I know." And there's a muffled sob as she starts to tremble and buries her face against his chest once more.
Hugging Vanya to himself tightly, E'sere runs a hand through her hair and continues murmuring soothing things for several moments. "It's okay, Vanya, dear--please, it's okay. Take a deep breath and let's sit down and talk, all right? You can tell me about it, and we'll fix it," he encourages her gently.
Vanya nods her head, but she's trembling, her hands literally shaking as she allows herself to be led where-ever E'sere wants to take her. She takes several deep breaths, tries to still her pounding heart, gather her scattered thoughts. "I ... I was down in the lower caverns earlier today," she starts, then looks guilty. "I know I said I wouldn't go alone, but we're /so/ short of willow powder. I was looking for the missing supplies, or Vey -- she came to me the other night with a cut hand, and said she'd keep an eye out for the stuff we're missing." She takes another breath, but still clings to E'sere's hands, close to him. "D'ven --" Oh, this hurts! "I ran into D'ven down there, and he asked to speak to me privately." Vanya can't go on for a moment, and crams a fist into her mouth to stifle a whimper.
"D'ven," E'sere repeats the name grimly, his expression setting when Vanya says that. He leads her to one of the chairs and gets her settled, pulling his own quite close to it. Before he seats himself, though, he scoops up the food left for him earlier by one of the kitchen girls, taking it with him when he settles alongside the healer. "Vey--Aivey. She couldn't tell me much except you needed me. I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier," he apologizes. "But... how do you know this? Are you /sure/, Vanya? I just... he's new here--I don't understand." He pokes at the food, glancing repeatedly at the woman beside him, expression drifting to bewilderment for her revelations.
Vanya glances at the food for a moment, then turns her head away, sighing. "I -- he came in here and we talked," she continues. "He warned me, E'sere, said I should go away, go home or back to the hall for a while. Until ..." A pause. "... until it was safe for me to come back. I told him I couldn't leave, not not, not with all those men injured in the Infirmary. And then he said he'd always liked me, respected me, and that I should be careful because things were about to come to a head. That what he was going to do was for the good of the weyr, otherwise he wouldn't do it." She blinks, looking up at E'sere. "A ... one of the girls brought it for you," she says, regarding the tray. "I kept it warm for you. I don't know how she knew you'd be here. D-did you ask the kitchen --?" Enough digression. "D'ven never told me /what/ he was going to do, but he acted ... vague, and ... secretive. Like he was ... he told me not to be around him anymore, and that I'd know when it was all over." Now she's wringing her hands, face haunted and pale.
E'sere, thinking hard and fast, stares downward at his food as he starts eating, lips pursing. "I expect Vey asked one of them to--she brought me lunch when I saw her, and she's done so before for me," he remarks, shrugging. "D'ven, hmm. That's certainly suspicious. It sounds like... it sounds like either he's planning on doing something evil, or he knows who is. My guess... He's probably after the Weyrleader's spot. Either he's going to go after one of the queens, whichever one he has less chance to win--or he's going to go after others who might win--the bronzeriders. And if he's worried about a healer getting caught in the middle, he's expecting some very serious consequences to this." His expression is grim again, and he stabs the food particularly viciously in revenge.
It's obvious from the expression on Vanya's face that her own thoughts are running along those same lines. "I ... I think you're right, E'sere," she says, voice small as she watches him eat. "I didn't know what to do, how to stop him from --" She swallows, her stomach convulsing involuntarily. "I don't want to see more people hurt," she whispers, trying to pull herself together. "I don't know Vey -- Aivey -- well, but she was grateful to me for helping her, and I had to see you. I had to warn you. I don't know what he's planning, but I just know he's somehow involved with all this. Or he knows who is, and I can't do anything. I'm just a healer. I'm ..." She swallows again. "I'm a coward."
"She's a sweet girl--simple, sweet," E'sere remarks on Aivey, pausing long enough to look up at Vanya. He offers her a small half-smile, wavering. "No, Vanya--no, you're not," he tells Vanya. "You're not. You're telling me--that's the very best thing you can do, because I can take care of this--I can make this better--and you won't get hurt. It's going to be okay, Vanya. Trust me."
That's what she needs to hear. That's what Vanya /wants/ to hear, and she nods, relaxing somewhat. "I trust you, E'sere," she says, the words coming easily, and wound around a deep emotion she cannot keep from her voice. If she betrays her feelings now, well, she does. "I want to see you happy, I want all this to end, so you can be what you were born to be," Vanya says, soft and gentle. "I would have never suspected it of D'ven, but ... maybe it was all an act. All the nonchalance, the fun-loving. An act that I fell for, and now ..." She looks away, perhaps ashamed she was so taken in. "I know better. I'll do as he asks, I'll stay away from him. He asked that what he said remains in this room, and I didn't lie. It /has/ remained in this room."
E'sere offers Vanya another smile, as confident as he can make it. "Don't blame yourself," he says gently. "It's..." He frowns, grimacing slightly. "It's... Some people are just--actors. Liars. You aren't used to the way things work here; it's not your fault for being deceived." He glances at his food again, picking at its remains, frowning with furrowed brows. He's starting to look a little pale, though, with this news, who'd expect otherwise? "You're doing great. I'll speak with the Weyrwoman first thing tomorrow morning--I can even cancel drills for it. Do you want to go with me to see her, Vanya?"
Vanya is distracted enough by the trying day to not, at first, notice anything. It's only when Vanya hears E'sere mention taking her to the Weyrwoman -- which one!? -- that she turns to look at him. "Why would you want to do that? She doesn't know me, but if you think it's best ...." And then she takes a better look. "E'sere? -- are you ... feeling all right?" She sits up straighter, giving him a close scrutiny with practiced eyes. She is a healer, and even though she's fairly pale at this disturbing herself and can't blame him, her intuition is screaming there's something wrong here. Her forehead creases, and she looks from E'sere to the food and then back. "Do you need to lie down?"
"No, no. I'm fine," E'sere murmurs reassuring. He takes a deep breath and forces another smile, still pale, for the healer's benefit. The remains of dinner are pushed away from him as he shakes his head slowly. The man shifts uncomfortably, then stills, takes another breath, looks around, wide-eyed. "Vanya--" And that, that is as far as he gets before he passes unceremoniously out.
There's a moment of disbelief before Vanya begins to act. Watching E'sere simply collapse has an eerie, horrifying similarity to someone else who recently did the same thing. Who was standing one moment and dead the next. Her first instinct is to scream, but there's turns of training inside her that prevent her from panic. In a heartbeat, she's out of the chair, checking E'sere's vitals, fingers on throat pulse, on wrist, searching desperately for the correct pressure point. It's there, slow but there. Her hands scrabble for the tiny mirror she owns, holding in front of his mouth, knowing there may only be minutes to prevent disaster. There. A faint cloud of steam. He breathes still. She has to get him to the Infirmary. Vanya knows this, but as tall and strong as she is, she can't carry that much dead weight by herself. Help. She /must/ find help. Tearing herself from the inert bronzerider, she throws open the door, eyes searching the dimly lighted corridor for someone, for /any/one who can help her. Taking a deep breath, she calls out in a loud, strident voice, "Help! Someone -- help me! Rider down! Help!"
A hand was reaching out to knock on Vanya's door, but it opens first, and there is a Vanya yelling in her face. A half step back is taken, wincing. "Vanya? What's going on? Who's hurt?" She tries to peek around the healer. "Should I go get someone?" Her tone has gone tense; high emotions from the flight are easily stirred into fear at Vanya's words. "Who?" She asks, again.
Vanya has never been so glad to see Dara in her life. She literally reaches out and grasps the front of the girls shirt. "Get help," she says, voice urgent. "E'sere --" She doesn't finish, but rushes back over to the very still bronzerider. "Hurry -- I don't -- Faranth, please no!" She performs automatically now, pulling open E'sere's eyelids one by one, looking for clues. The pupils are dialated, and not tracking. "Hurry, Dara, please! I don't know what's wrong. One moment he was just sitting here eating, the next he collapsed --" She stops short, then, pale and shaking. "Just like -- just like -- hurry!"
Essdara looks a bit paniced. "But... You /are/ help!" She protests. "Who can I get ebtter than you?" A step inside, eyes wide at the prone rider before her. "Sharsd. We could move him, maybe? Ahhh, shards, he's too big for us even together. I'll get someone to help carry him, hold on!" And she is out the door to find a strong back.
"Yes, we need to get him to the Infirmary, fast!" Vanya confirms, hands never stopping their work. "Get help, please!" It's only then she glances at the remains of his dinner, a horrifying thought running through her mind. "Oh, sweet Faranth, no..." Just like Yvide. Just like the Weyrwoman. As Dara leaves, Vanya grabs the plate, looking around the room for somewhere safe to keep it while she's dealing with E'sere, trying to save his life. The chest is the only thing she can see, and she carries it there, setting it inside, heedless whether it will ruin anything beneath it. There's a crude lock on the chest, nothing to keep anyone out, but it will have to do. She doesn't have time for anything else. She has other things on her mind. "Oh, don't let him die," Vanya whispers, moving back to the rider.
Essdara is back in a heartbeat, with a pair of very confused looking men from the lower caverns; drudges, really, big and strong, unobservant and dumb. Perfect. She motions them towards the fallen rider as she pulls them in, "Grab him, and let's get him to the infirmary." She looks to Vanya, "Go ahead, we'll catch up, you get who and what you need for this, ok?"
Vanya is out of the door and heading for the infirmary before the words are out of Dara's mouth. Skirts lifted, she runs, ignoring anyone in her way, features determined and fearful. There's a purpose to her flight, and it's not a panicked run, but very precise. She's already going over in her head what will induce vomiting, and the first thing she needs to do is get his stomach cleared. It'll be messy, but who cares about that? There's a life at stake here, one that she's very determined to save. They won't kill him, too. No. She won't allow that.
Infirmary
The infirmary is divided into two sections. The larger of these is given over to injured dragons and is joined to the bowl by an immense tunnel. No less than six stone couches fill this area, with stations between each for medical supplies and personnel. The other side of the infirmary is for human patients and is furnished with double rows of cots. A large alcove near the exit to the living cavern houses the healers' area, where they store their supplies and can retreat for a moment of quiet before wading into the battle between life and death again.
A minute or so after Vanya's arival comes a procession, Dara leading in two stout drudges with an unconcious bronzerider between them. At Vanya's direction, he's placed in a discrete and out of the way bed for her to work on; Once there, Dara shoos the drudges away with dire warnings of not spreading rumors that mostly earn her a confused look and a grunt; not the chatty kinds of drdges.
By the time the two women and the drudges haul E'sere to the infirmary, Morelenth is waiting, the skinny bronze fidgeting in the front portion of the infirmary. He looks grey around the edges and more raggedy than ever as he tries to sit still, muscles quivering anxiously. As soon as his rider enters he's hovering, looming over the other people; while he tries not to interfere, it's hard to get that much bulk out of the way when he's so intent on remaining at the man's side. E'sere, for his part, is desperately still, unmoving and unwaking as he's deposited on the bed.
Vanya is already in the Infirmary, vaguely taking a moment to point the procession to the examination cubicle. "Dara, see if you can reassure Morelenth," she says, a bit more control in her voice, now. "I know he's worried, but tell him I'm going to do everything I can for E'sere. I won't let them have him." There's that determination in her voice, and anger. A deep-rooted anger that whoever is responsible will not get away with this. She already has what she needs, gathering herbs that will help bring about vomiting. "Once you do that, I'm going to need someone to help me get him turned onto his side after I get this inside him. I hope you have a strong stomach," she warns, working quickly. Water is poured into a container, the herbs snatched from packets and mixed into it. Once that's done, she's grabbing a big, metal bowl and moving toward the inert E'sere, checking vitals once more. Good. Still breathing. Still alive. Grim determination on her face. "I won't let them win, not this time."
Essdara looks over at the bronze warily for a moment; even growing up here, reassuring a dragonis no easy task. But she approaches him and offers out a hand towards him. "He'll be ok." She says, firmly. "Vanya's great at what she does, and she's not about to let him, of all people, slip away. You'll be fine, promise." A glance back at Vanya. "Strong stomach?"
Morelenth croons toward the two women, lowering his great head to Essdara's hand; eyes whirl yellow fear as he watches Vanya, Essdara, and E'sere most of all. He does still himself as much as she's able, though he can't entirely halt his twitching as he stares.
"Yes, because I've got to induce vomiting, and that's never pretty," Vanya replies, mixing the emetic herbs into a glass of warm water. It smells sickeningly sweet, and even Vanya's gorge rises a bit as she moves toward E'sere with grim purpose. The metal bowl is handed to Dara. "I need you to put that bowl on a stool, right here, like so." She tilts E'sere's head back, opening his throat and pouring as much into the unconscious man's mouth as doesn't choke him. "That's right, E'sere, swallow it," she croons, voice soft and urging. "I dare not let him lie on his back when he starts vomiting, he'll literally drown. "Swallow it, E'sere, please." It's not easy getting an unconscious body to do what you want it to, but eventually, enough of the emetic gets down him, and she notes the tell-tale signs of regurgitation. "All right, help me turn him on his side. I can hold him after that. I need you to find the Weyrleader, one of the Weyrwomen, someone in authority, Dara. This has gone far enough."
Essdara pats the bronze a moment reassuringly, but then is off to help save his rider - any reluctance she might have on that point is thankfully masked well. She does as Vanya instructs, positioning the bowl as indicated. "Not gonna phase me, I've seen Immath eat." She says, with some small attempt at tension easing humor.
Once E'sere's body reacts to the emetic, Vanya holds him in place, cradling his head and shoulders over the edge of the bed. It's not easy but she nods as the contents of his stomach empty, giving him time to breathe between bouts of nausea. She picks up a dampened cloth, wiping his face and mouth when she has to. It takes a while. The human body doesn't empty itself easily, and that was a fairly large meal he ate. Once it's all over, and there's only dry heaves, Vanya breathes a little easier. "Water, Dara," she requests. "With some peppermint mixed in. Cool water."
Essdara nods, and moves to get the requested combination, a glass of the cool water the healers keep on hand mixed with a light powder of dried pepperment, rapidly infusing the water. She brings it back and, between retches, holds it to his lips.
Morelenth remains close, lifting his head to hover over the bed, watching intently every move Vanya makes, everything she does to his rider. He doesn't look terribly reassured by what she's doing, but he's not interfering, only staring as his rider heaving.
"Good, good," Vanya says, probably to Essdara, but maybe to E'sere and Morelenth as well. When the minted water remains down, doesn't come back up, Vanya takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. A check of pulse and breathing tells her E'sere is still alive, if not completely out of the woods. "All right, he's still alive, and still breathing, but pulse is slow. Take the water, and mix in just a bit of soy powder," Vanya instructs. "About a tablespoonful should do. That will stimulate his circulation, and help his heart rate." She seems a bit less rushed, now. E'sere's not in immediate danger, but there's still work to do. "The next hour will tell me if he'll pull through."
Essdara nods, moving about and putting the mixture together as Vanya has instructed. "Yes, ma'am." In this environment, Vanya is that; a Healer, not a friend. She adds soy to water and returns to E'sere's side to once more offer it to him.
Seated at the head of the bed in the small examination cubicle now, Vanya bathes E'sere's face and upper body with a cool, damp cloth. "Soybeans will also detoxify his system," she explains to the girl propping E'sere's head up so she can get more of the mint-soy-water mixture down him. "Dara, this has gone on long enough. Can you ask Morelenth to contact one of the queens? I want someone in authority to know about this, but I don't dare leave. I --" There's an expression of worry and concern on her face. "I won't stand by and let another person die, not if I can stop it." This isn't a healer talking, this is a woman afraid for the life of someone who means something to her. "E'sere's always been good to me, and --" She stops and looks up at the girl, fear in her eyes. "You were right. The threats and deaths have to stop. It's time that this ends."
Morelenth, continuing to hover over the unconscious E'sere and those around him, raises his head again at Vanya's words, chuffing once his own answer--though what that answer is is debateable, with E'sere unable to relay. The bronze eyes Vanya a long moment, then Essdara, and then the door expectantly before he turns back to E'sere. He still looks unhealthy, fear-tinged grey creeping across his dark hide, but at least he's not quivering anymore.
Essdara takes a moment to do just that, a quiet conversation with the dragon as she requests a goldrider's presence. There is, of course, only one Dara would trust, and Tialith's name carries in the quiet of the infirmary. After a firm instruction and a look to make sure the bronze has understood her, she returns to Vanya's side, taking her hand and giving a squeeze. "Did the best I could. We'll see if he'll help or not." She says, softly. "It does have to end, yes."
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth's deep voice contains an edgy note to it, near-panic contained only by force of will as he reaches out. << My rider-->> he begins, desperate. When words fail, he offers a picture instead: E'sere collapsing in Vanya's room, and then another of him lying unconscious in the infirmary. << They attacked him--he isn't well. The healers-->>
Morelenth> The queen's thoughts are slow and lurching for a moment as she is drawn out of slumber. They stretch outward languidly and then suddenly snap into focus as the news is taken in. Tialith's thoughts are weighty things that press and bump against the bronzes. << She comes. >>
The empty door is, after a moment, empty no longer as a figure dashes through. Her hands are on her hair, still twisting the braid up into the bun at the nape of her neck. The newest of High Reaches' juniors arrives quickly, but in mild dissaray. "What's happened?" she demands, out of breath, making her way towards the cot and the small cluster of people around it.
Vanya looks up from where she sits, a mess the best way to describe her appearance. "Another poisoning, m'am," she replies, the tone of her voice bearing witness to the horror that's inside her. "A near miss, thankfully," she adds, glancing down at the pale man on the bed in front of her. "Wingleader E'sere." She eyes the Weyrwoman and tries to school her features into that mask of professionalism she falls back on whenever stressed. "He and I have been working on a project together, and he was in my room going over a proposed program of warm-up exercises earlier when he collapsed. I got him here in time, I believe, and hopefully prevented his death. Only time will tell at this point." She takes a deep breath, turning to Essdara now. "Dara, a kitchen worker brought food for the Wingleader just before he arrived. The remains of that food are in the chest at the foot of my bed. The key is under my pillow. If you would be so kind?" she begs of the girl. "You've already done a lot to help me, but I need this one, last thing."
Morelenth swings his head around again to rumble at Roa as she arrives, eyes tracking her worriedly before he turns back to the healer. He fixes Vanya with a yellow-eyed stare for several minutes, until a quiet groan from his rider pulls his attention back. At once, the bronze is as fidgety as before, looming closer and watching E'sere, but the rider's still again, for the moment, conscious slow in returning.
Essdara gives Roa a relieved look as she comes in. "Roa." She says, softly. She lets go of the healer's hand, watching Roa approach. "E'sere." She says, motioning towards the bronzerider; Vanya's summed it up better, though, and she nods to Vanya. "Sure." She says. "Of course I will help however I can, Vanya. You know that, I'm not out to kill anyone." She looks to Roa. "I'll be right back, Roa."
The little weyrwoman makes her way to the opposite side of the cot to peer down at the rider. On her way, Morelenth is given a nod of greeting, but no more. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say who lies in the cot, but Roa doesn't chastise. She only listens silently, offering small nods to note that each fact has been received. First from Vanya and then from Essdara. "We don't know what poision it was yet, then?" She peers down at E'sere and then glances up, briefly, to Vanya. "Which kitchen worker? Can you describe him? Or her?"
At the groan from E'sere, all notice of the Weyrwoman, Dara and Morelenth instantly disappear, her attention now fully on the man. She places fingers on his jugular, closing her eyes, her lips moving as if she's counting something. Then they move to his wrist, doing the same. Other vitals are checked, the eyelids lifted. "Pupils still slightly dialated, but the pulse is stronger, heartbeat regular. Breathing good." She sits back down, having risen. "I fairly certain I got to him in time, m'am," she reports to the Weyrwoman. "Another hour and I'll know for certain." And then a look is granted to the bronze. "I'll pull him through, Morelenth, I promise. I won't let him die if I can at all prevent it," she says quietly, trying to reassure the dragon. Then her eyes go back to Roa. "I'm sorry, I'm Journeyman Healer Vanya, m'am. We've not met before, and I wish it were under better circumstances now." A pause. "I don't know her by name. Short, young, blonde hair and ... brown eyes," Vanya replies. "She was wearing a dark brown tunic and some kind of loose trousers. I would know her if I saw her again, that's all I can say."
Morelenth seems reassured enough by Vanya's words to settle down, to still himself again and linger at E'sere's bedside as the bronzerider starts to come around again. Eyelids flutter; he makes another muffled sound as he awakens, definitely woozy but still present.
And there is Roa, peering dow at him. "Welcome back, Wingleader," she offers gently before lifting her gaze to Vanya. "Well met, Journeyman, if under unfortunate circumstances. I am Roa of T-...well, of High Reaches, now. Thank you for having Morelenth contact me." A glance back down to E'sere, "It seems you owe this woman your life, sir." The description of the kitchen worker is tucked away with a small nod.
"I'll know more when I can get his plate up here," Vanya says in reference to the poison query. "There are a lot of things it could have been, but it wasn't bad food. It came on fast. One moment he was sitting in the chair eating, then went pale, and was down almost immediately after that." Fast-acting. "It had to be the food, since he drank nothing." There's a grimness about Vanya now, and a barely concealed anger that seethes just below the surface. "I'm not certain how it'll be figured out, but I'll stake my knot that it was deliberate." As there is more movement from E'sere, Vanya's attention once more returns to the rider. "Don't try to move, E'sere," she says to him, title forgotten. She places a hand on his chest, noting dampness. "He's sweating now, which is a good sign," she tells Roa. "It means the poison is working out of his system." She reaches for the glass of mint-soy water, and urges E'sere up, supporting him. "Drink more, if you can."
And back comes Dara. She's walking at a brisk pace, though doesn't seem the least winded by it. Along the way she has aquired a basket, with the offending foodstuffs being hidden inside as she carries it over to the healer. "Vanya." She says, offering it. Once it's out of her hands, a look over towards Roa and a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way. Word travels fast, and it was a bright bit of news on a bad day."
E'sere's smirk is reflexive but badly done, no more than a vain twitch of his lips as he tries to focus on the people hovering over him. With E'sere pulling through, Morelenth settles more, the greyish bronze lying down alongside the bed to be near his rider. E'sere manages to sip at the water, with Vanya's help, eyes still circling around as he tries to take in everything.
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth's mental touch is calmer, more relieved in the wake of E'sere's return to consciousness. << Give her our thanks, please? >> he requests, imaging Vanya. << And the other, too. >> This time, Essdara.
Lips curl upward, a wan smile offered for Essdara's kind words. "The bad day just continues on, doesn't it Dara, but thank you." Roa watches the basket exchange hands and then asks Vanya, "May I ask him a few questions?" And then, to E'sere, "Do you think that you can speak, Wingleader?" Once so casual with her own title, Roa is now quite precise with everyone else's. Her eyes glaze for a moment and then she notes, looking from Essdara to Vanya, "Morelenth sends the both of you his thanks."
When Dara returns, Vanya nods. "Thank you, Dara. There're some water-proof cloth bags in the drawer over there. Put plate and all, in one of the large ones, please." She then turns to Roa and E'sere. "It would've been nicer to meet under better circumstances, but --" She doesn't finish. "Congratulations," she offers simply, perhaps a little distracted. Vanya manages to get more liquid down E'sere, then seems to relax as he comes around. "I think a few questions should be all right, but he should stay here until we can make sure the poison is gone from his system." A glance at the bronze. "Morelenth can help me keep watch, and alert anyone should there be need." Another look to Roa. "M'am, I would like to entrust the evidence to you. I'm not skilled with analysis, and would feel better if it was with the appropriate authority."
E'sere takes deep breaths, eyes shutting again a moment as he gathers his energy. Then, looking up to Roa again, he manages a brief nod, licking dry lips. "Ye-yes," he murmurs in response to the question.
Essdara returns Roa's smile sympathetically. "As it ever does, Roa." She is distracted by Vanya's instrections, bustling about to complete them; she never questions why she should be with so many apprentices and aides around, simply doing. She returns after a moment with the bag, and sets about preserving the meal. "We should talk sometime, Roa, when things are... Quieter. It's been a long time, and I suspect we have a lot to catch up on." A slight smile, out of place with the grim surroundings. "Rather a lot."
"Yes. We should." This Roa directs towards Essdara, and the words are soft. Solemn. Her eyes move from Vanya to E'sere next as she steps away to draw up a seat. "I cannot say I am one for identifying poisons either, Journeyman, but I'll see it reaches the right hands and notify you with the results." Hands are lifted and held out for the bag with the plate. To E'sere she notes, "Journeyman Vanya has been kind enough to explain the circumstances of your collapse as she experienced them. That, after eating some of this food in her room, you suddenly collapsed and were rushed here. Is there anything else you might think to add, sir?"
E'sere is sweating; there is, now, a feverish red to his cheeks, but it is improvement at least over the death-pale of earlier. Confusion registers in his expression as Roa questions him, the bronzerider's brows knitting as he tries to remember. Finally, though, he shakes his head again, slightly--even that motion has him looking green underneath the flush again. Morelenth lifts his head to croon an answer himself, eyeing the goldrider.
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth answers worriedly. << He doesn't--we can't remember. It's all... it's blurry, all of it. >> He manages the same image he sent earlier, of E'sere's collapse, but nothing else is forthcoming; the lack of memory fills his mental touch with anxiety again.
"I do caution, the Wingleader may not be very clear-headed, m'am," Vanya warns. She continues to bathe E'sere's face, neck and body, noting the feverish appearance. Without hesitation, she moves to a cabinet, pulling out a blanket, placing it over him. "After the fever may come chills," she explains, and there's a gentleness to her touch as she makes him as comfortable as possible on the narrow bed. "I am perfectly willing to explain to any authority necessary, m'am. I want to see this stop. There's enough danger for riders from Threadfall. They don't need to be afraid of dying from some lunatic's hands." And she winces. "I'm apologize, Weyrwoman. I shouldn't speak so, but my enemy is death. And I can't help but feel angry when something like this happens." She casts her eyes down at E'sere. "The Wingleader has always treated me with respect and kindness, and this is simply appalling to me."
Essdara smiles, just the faintest bit, and takes a step back. "If you will excuse me." She says, softly. "I think I've done all I can here. Vanya, if you need to talk about this later... I'll probably be in the baths, else in the dorms. Feel free to come find me." A look to E'sere. "Yes. This has to stop. Killing people isn't the way that we will fix the problems we have. All it will do is escalate things more." And, finally, Roa. "Clear skies, Roa. And I am glad, really glad, of the knot you have taken on."
"Appalling, indeed. Must stop, indeed. Far too many people have lain in these beds due to mysterious incidents and mishaps." Roa studies E'sere in silence for a moment, watching the flush of his skin and the sweat that prickles. "I'm certain Sinopa will wish a word with you, Vanya. Weyrleader J'cor as well, most likely. I'll pass on the information you have given so far. I presume you'll be staying with him?" Roa's focus turns to Vanya. "I would suggest inviting back in those infirmary employees you know well enough to identify and no others, tonight. The better to note any unfamiliar faces that may wish to creep in." And finish the job. "Unless there is anything else you can think to add, Vanya, I will have this," the bag is lifted, "set into the proper hands and I will leave you to your duty and the Wingleader to his recovery." As Essdara parts Roa adds, her voice a bit less formal, "Tomorrow, if you can, Essdara. Come visit me in the East Weyr."
Morelenth, chuffing again, snakes his nose over to brush against Essdara, gratitude in the gesture before he turns back to a still-hazy E'sere.
"Of course, m'am," Vanya replies, nodding, still continuing her ministrations. As Essdara being preparations to leave, she casts a grateful look to the girl. "Dara -- I can't thank you enough for helping. It -- your timely arrival and assistance may have tipped the scales in the wingleader's favor. I ... if you wouldn't mind, could you oversee making him something light in the morning? Broth, perhaps an egg or two. And ... for me, as well. I could just as easily have been a target, considering it's common to share meals." The words hang hollowly in the air. Then, she looks to Roa, and nods. "I don't plan to leave his side, Weyrwoman, and I'll be sure I know anyone who sets foot in this cubicle. You may trust me on that score. This won't be the first night I've spent in a chair beside a patient. And ..." Vanya moistens her lips. "Thank you. I'll be more than willing to speak to anyone necessary."
Essdara smiles gently to Vanya. "I'll be sure to bring you both breakfast, yes. I was already planning on it for you, at least." She looks over to Roa with a nod. "The east weyr, yes. I'll always find time for speaking. Perhaps a late lunch? Since I seem to be on delivery service anyway, I can drop some food here and come over to see you?" Morelenth, whiles she talks, gets a reassuring rub of his nose but no actual words.
There is a small nod for all of this and Roa is rising from her chair. "Someone, sinopa or J'cor , will seek you out tomorrow. est well until then. Good night." This last is addressed to all of them. And then Roa turns and makes her way towards the door.
E'sere, after his brief bout of consciousness, is looking groggy again, the night's ordeal weighing on his exhausted mind and body. Eyelids are drifting shut again, slowly, though Morelenth continues to look awake, some of his own color returning gradually as he settles in as close to his rider as he can.
Essdara slips off away from the slightly-alive bronzerider, and off towards, presumably, the bathes.
Vanya nods as the Weyrwoman makes her exit, and turns to E'sere, checking vitals again, breathing a soft sigh of relief they are returning to normal. He'll be feverish, and maybe nauseous again, but the worst is over. She makes sure the heavy curtain is closed, and tells the apprentices that she's not to be disturbed. That /no one/ is allowed in the cubicle save her, no exceptions. Not that she'll be leaving. No, she has one of them fetch her a chair from the lounge, and a blanket. Like she said, it won't be the first time she's slept in a chair. But, before she heads in that direction, she stands at the head of the bed, fingertips stroking E'sere's brow. There's no one there to see that gesture of affection, no one to later report there was anything amiss. And then she moves to the bronze dragon, sinking to her knees beside the great head, lightly reaching out for him, her eyes watching his for a long moment before whispering. "He'll be all right, Morelenth. I won't let anything happen to him, I promise."
In answer, Morelenth brushes his cheek against the woman, a rumble vibrating his throat as he looks to her for reassurances. His eyes are still tinted toward yellow and orange, but, at the edges, the beginnings of peaceful greens are reappearing as E'sere drifts into true sleep.
With a gentle hand, Vanya reaches up and scritches at the eye-ridges, trying to convey reassurance, trying not to cry. Now that the work is done, she can let the shakes begin anew, can give way to the horror and the mingled emotions spinning inside her. "I can't let him die," she whispers, her hands moving to his cheek, offering what small comfort she can to the much larger dragon. "I think I love him, Morelenth," she whispers. "I didn't mean to, but I do." And then, as if the terrible fear is too much for her, she lays her head on the dragon's neck, letting the tears fall now that E'sere's safe. In a few moments, Vanya will bring herself together, and rise, giving the bronze one final stroke for reassurance. "He'll be all right, I promise," she says, moving now to the bed, brushing E'sere's forelock off his brow. And then it's into the chair for the long night's vigil. Sleep? That won't come. Not for a long, long time.
Players: E'sere, Vanya, Essdara, Roa
Location: Vanya's Room, Infirmary
Synopsis: It's a night of horror for Vanya when E'sere is poisoned after eating dinner in her room. Fortunately, Essdara comes to check on how Vanya weathered Immath's flight, and shows up exactly when she's needed. It's touch and go for the Wingleader, and Vanya gets to meet Roa, the newest Junior Weyrwoman of High Reaches. Log blatantly stolen from E'sere's LJ. (Warning: some description of the treatment may be a bit stomach-wrenching, but it's accurate.)
Vanya's Room
There isn't much a person can do to disguise the fact this room is little more than a cave. The walls are stone, smoothed by hand or by some long-forgotten or long-gone machine used by those who first built the weyr. The door is solid wood, sturdy, the fixtures utilitarian. The basic furniture is all there -- bed, table, two chairs, wall shelves and a wooden storage chest. Simple. As is the occupant, since there is little in the way of fancy knickknacks or personal possessions. The bed has plain sheets, two down-filled pillows, and a warm, woven blanket in dark green. The chest holds clothes, and more blankets as a bastion against the cold, High Reaches winter. A glow basket hangs from the wall over the bed, another sits on the table, glows replenished whenever needed by those unseen people who perform this task.
On a shelf above the table are a bottle of ink, writing instruments, sand and some already prepared hides. Very rare and precious paper documents are carefully arranged on another shelf, held down by a polished stone collected from some place. Yet another shelf holds vials and bottles of lotions, astringents, and other containers of herbs and oils. The only luxurious thing here, if it can be called that, is a hand-made rug that lies beside the bed on top of a thick layer of reeds. Stone floors are notoriously cold on bare feet. A black cloak hangs on a peg by the door, as does a gittern, the instrument carefully wrapped in a protective bag. A basket, leather satchel and two pairs of boots sit on the floor beneath.
The later it gets, the more anxious Vanya grows. After the nerve-wracking experience at the flight, Vanya did exactly as she said, she remained there outside until it was all over, heard no screams from T'zen, just grumbling from the losers. A couple of times being grabbed and propositioned, she decided that things inside were fine, and she could get away. She called off the night shift, ignored dinner and went straight to her room. There she she sat waiting to see if Vey managed to get her message to E'sere. Nervous. Pacing her small area, chewing on a thumbnail as what seem like days pass. Finally, she hears the soft knock, rushes to the door to ask, "Who is it?" Hoping the right name will be given.
"It's me," answers the voice. A pause. "E'sere." Looking a little disheveled after his own experiences at the flight, along with an otherwise long day, E'sere waits outside, tugging at his shirt to straighten it while he waits to be let in.
The door opens a heartbeat later. "You came," Vanya breathes, and there's relief coupled with about a hundred other emotions wrapped up in those words. "I was afraid --" She reaches a hand and pulls him inside, closing the door behind herself. "E'sere -- I was afraid Vey wouldn't find you, or that something would happen during the flight. That I wouldn't be in time." She's a right mess, herself. Wrinkled gown, dusty skirts, hair awry. But she moves forward, not giving him a choice. Vanya wraps her arms around him tightly, holding him, pressing her head to his chest. "I was so afraid I'd be too late!"
"It's okay, it's okay," E'sere tells Vanya soothingly as he slips in and lets Vanya shut the door, then slides his own arms around her. "I'm here now, and I'm okay. I'd have come sooner, but Morelenth had to chase, of course--he always does when it's one of our wing. But it's okay." He pauses a moment as he glances down at her. "Vey. Ah. Yes, she found me and told me you needed to speak to me. She sounded very worried about you? What's wrong?"
There's silence for a long time, maybe while Vanya composes herself. "I ... Oh, E'sere, I'm scared," she whispers. "I don't know what to do. I --" Forcing herself to be calmer, to form the words, to make them coherent. "I think ... I think I know who's behind all of the bad," she whispers now. "Oh, Faranth, E'sere, I think I know." And there's a muffled sob as she starts to tremble and buries her face against his chest once more.
Hugging Vanya to himself tightly, E'sere runs a hand through her hair and continues murmuring soothing things for several moments. "It's okay, Vanya, dear--please, it's okay. Take a deep breath and let's sit down and talk, all right? You can tell me about it, and we'll fix it," he encourages her gently.
Vanya nods her head, but she's trembling, her hands literally shaking as she allows herself to be led where-ever E'sere wants to take her. She takes several deep breaths, tries to still her pounding heart, gather her scattered thoughts. "I ... I was down in the lower caverns earlier today," she starts, then looks guilty. "I know I said I wouldn't go alone, but we're /so/ short of willow powder. I was looking for the missing supplies, or Vey -- she came to me the other night with a cut hand, and said she'd keep an eye out for the stuff we're missing." She takes another breath, but still clings to E'sere's hands, close to him. "D'ven --" Oh, this hurts! "I ran into D'ven down there, and he asked to speak to me privately." Vanya can't go on for a moment, and crams a fist into her mouth to stifle a whimper.
"D'ven," E'sere repeats the name grimly, his expression setting when Vanya says that. He leads her to one of the chairs and gets her settled, pulling his own quite close to it. Before he seats himself, though, he scoops up the food left for him earlier by one of the kitchen girls, taking it with him when he settles alongside the healer. "Vey--Aivey. She couldn't tell me much except you needed me. I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier," he apologizes. "But... how do you know this? Are you /sure/, Vanya? I just... he's new here--I don't understand." He pokes at the food, glancing repeatedly at the woman beside him, expression drifting to bewilderment for her revelations.
Vanya glances at the food for a moment, then turns her head away, sighing. "I -- he came in here and we talked," she continues. "He warned me, E'sere, said I should go away, go home or back to the hall for a while. Until ..." A pause. "... until it was safe for me to come back. I told him I couldn't leave, not not, not with all those men injured in the Infirmary. And then he said he'd always liked me, respected me, and that I should be careful because things were about to come to a head. That what he was going to do was for the good of the weyr, otherwise he wouldn't do it." She blinks, looking up at E'sere. "A ... one of the girls brought it for you," she says, regarding the tray. "I kept it warm for you. I don't know how she knew you'd be here. D-did you ask the kitchen --?" Enough digression. "D'ven never told me /what/ he was going to do, but he acted ... vague, and ... secretive. Like he was ... he told me not to be around him anymore, and that I'd know when it was all over." Now she's wringing her hands, face haunted and pale.
E'sere, thinking hard and fast, stares downward at his food as he starts eating, lips pursing. "I expect Vey asked one of them to--she brought me lunch when I saw her, and she's done so before for me," he remarks, shrugging. "D'ven, hmm. That's certainly suspicious. It sounds like... it sounds like either he's planning on doing something evil, or he knows who is. My guess... He's probably after the Weyrleader's spot. Either he's going to go after one of the queens, whichever one he has less chance to win--or he's going to go after others who might win--the bronzeriders. And if he's worried about a healer getting caught in the middle, he's expecting some very serious consequences to this." His expression is grim again, and he stabs the food particularly viciously in revenge.
It's obvious from the expression on Vanya's face that her own thoughts are running along those same lines. "I ... I think you're right, E'sere," she says, voice small as she watches him eat. "I didn't know what to do, how to stop him from --" She swallows, her stomach convulsing involuntarily. "I don't want to see more people hurt," she whispers, trying to pull herself together. "I don't know Vey -- Aivey -- well, but she was grateful to me for helping her, and I had to see you. I had to warn you. I don't know what he's planning, but I just know he's somehow involved with all this. Or he knows who is, and I can't do anything. I'm just a healer. I'm ..." She swallows again. "I'm a coward."
"She's a sweet girl--simple, sweet," E'sere remarks on Aivey, pausing long enough to look up at Vanya. He offers her a small half-smile, wavering. "No, Vanya--no, you're not," he tells Vanya. "You're not. You're telling me--that's the very best thing you can do, because I can take care of this--I can make this better--and you won't get hurt. It's going to be okay, Vanya. Trust me."
That's what she needs to hear. That's what Vanya /wants/ to hear, and she nods, relaxing somewhat. "I trust you, E'sere," she says, the words coming easily, and wound around a deep emotion she cannot keep from her voice. If she betrays her feelings now, well, she does. "I want to see you happy, I want all this to end, so you can be what you were born to be," Vanya says, soft and gentle. "I would have never suspected it of D'ven, but ... maybe it was all an act. All the nonchalance, the fun-loving. An act that I fell for, and now ..." She looks away, perhaps ashamed she was so taken in. "I know better. I'll do as he asks, I'll stay away from him. He asked that what he said remains in this room, and I didn't lie. It /has/ remained in this room."
E'sere offers Vanya another smile, as confident as he can make it. "Don't blame yourself," he says gently. "It's..." He frowns, grimacing slightly. "It's... Some people are just--actors. Liars. You aren't used to the way things work here; it's not your fault for being deceived." He glances at his food again, picking at its remains, frowning with furrowed brows. He's starting to look a little pale, though, with this news, who'd expect otherwise? "You're doing great. I'll speak with the Weyrwoman first thing tomorrow morning--I can even cancel drills for it. Do you want to go with me to see her, Vanya?"
Vanya is distracted enough by the trying day to not, at first, notice anything. It's only when Vanya hears E'sere mention taking her to the Weyrwoman -- which one!? -- that she turns to look at him. "Why would you want to do that? She doesn't know me, but if you think it's best ...." And then she takes a better look. "E'sere? -- are you ... feeling all right?" She sits up straighter, giving him a close scrutiny with practiced eyes. She is a healer, and even though she's fairly pale at this disturbing herself and can't blame him, her intuition is screaming there's something wrong here. Her forehead creases, and she looks from E'sere to the food and then back. "Do you need to lie down?"
"No, no. I'm fine," E'sere murmurs reassuring. He takes a deep breath and forces another smile, still pale, for the healer's benefit. The remains of dinner are pushed away from him as he shakes his head slowly. The man shifts uncomfortably, then stills, takes another breath, looks around, wide-eyed. "Vanya--" And that, that is as far as he gets before he passes unceremoniously out.
There's a moment of disbelief before Vanya begins to act. Watching E'sere simply collapse has an eerie, horrifying similarity to someone else who recently did the same thing. Who was standing one moment and dead the next. Her first instinct is to scream, but there's turns of training inside her that prevent her from panic. In a heartbeat, she's out of the chair, checking E'sere's vitals, fingers on throat pulse, on wrist, searching desperately for the correct pressure point. It's there, slow but there. Her hands scrabble for the tiny mirror she owns, holding in front of his mouth, knowing there may only be minutes to prevent disaster. There. A faint cloud of steam. He breathes still. She has to get him to the Infirmary. Vanya knows this, but as tall and strong as she is, she can't carry that much dead weight by herself. Help. She /must/ find help. Tearing herself from the inert bronzerider, she throws open the door, eyes searching the dimly lighted corridor for someone, for /any/one who can help her. Taking a deep breath, she calls out in a loud, strident voice, "Help! Someone -- help me! Rider down! Help!"
A hand was reaching out to knock on Vanya's door, but it opens first, and there is a Vanya yelling in her face. A half step back is taken, wincing. "Vanya? What's going on? Who's hurt?" She tries to peek around the healer. "Should I go get someone?" Her tone has gone tense; high emotions from the flight are easily stirred into fear at Vanya's words. "Who?" She asks, again.
Vanya has never been so glad to see Dara in her life. She literally reaches out and grasps the front of the girls shirt. "Get help," she says, voice urgent. "E'sere --" She doesn't finish, but rushes back over to the very still bronzerider. "Hurry -- I don't -- Faranth, please no!" She performs automatically now, pulling open E'sere's eyelids one by one, looking for clues. The pupils are dialated, and not tracking. "Hurry, Dara, please! I don't know what's wrong. One moment he was just sitting here eating, the next he collapsed --" She stops short, then, pale and shaking. "Just like -- just like -- hurry!"
Essdara looks a bit paniced. "But... You /are/ help!" She protests. "Who can I get ebtter than you?" A step inside, eyes wide at the prone rider before her. "Sharsd. We could move him, maybe? Ahhh, shards, he's too big for us even together. I'll get someone to help carry him, hold on!" And she is out the door to find a strong back.
"Yes, we need to get him to the Infirmary, fast!" Vanya confirms, hands never stopping their work. "Get help, please!" It's only then she glances at the remains of his dinner, a horrifying thought running through her mind. "Oh, sweet Faranth, no..." Just like Yvide. Just like the Weyrwoman. As Dara leaves, Vanya grabs the plate, looking around the room for somewhere safe to keep it while she's dealing with E'sere, trying to save his life. The chest is the only thing she can see, and she carries it there, setting it inside, heedless whether it will ruin anything beneath it. There's a crude lock on the chest, nothing to keep anyone out, but it will have to do. She doesn't have time for anything else. She has other things on her mind. "Oh, don't let him die," Vanya whispers, moving back to the rider.
Essdara is back in a heartbeat, with a pair of very confused looking men from the lower caverns; drudges, really, big and strong, unobservant and dumb. Perfect. She motions them towards the fallen rider as she pulls them in, "Grab him, and let's get him to the infirmary." She looks to Vanya, "Go ahead, we'll catch up, you get who and what you need for this, ok?"
Vanya is out of the door and heading for the infirmary before the words are out of Dara's mouth. Skirts lifted, she runs, ignoring anyone in her way, features determined and fearful. There's a purpose to her flight, and it's not a panicked run, but very precise. She's already going over in her head what will induce vomiting, and the first thing she needs to do is get his stomach cleared. It'll be messy, but who cares about that? There's a life at stake here, one that she's very determined to save. They won't kill him, too. No. She won't allow that.
Infirmary
The infirmary is divided into two sections. The larger of these is given over to injured dragons and is joined to the bowl by an immense tunnel. No less than six stone couches fill this area, with stations between each for medical supplies and personnel. The other side of the infirmary is for human patients and is furnished with double rows of cots. A large alcove near the exit to the living cavern houses the healers' area, where they store their supplies and can retreat for a moment of quiet before wading into the battle between life and death again.
A minute or so after Vanya's arival comes a procession, Dara leading in two stout drudges with an unconcious bronzerider between them. At Vanya's direction, he's placed in a discrete and out of the way bed for her to work on; Once there, Dara shoos the drudges away with dire warnings of not spreading rumors that mostly earn her a confused look and a grunt; not the chatty kinds of drdges.
By the time the two women and the drudges haul E'sere to the infirmary, Morelenth is waiting, the skinny bronze fidgeting in the front portion of the infirmary. He looks grey around the edges and more raggedy than ever as he tries to sit still, muscles quivering anxiously. As soon as his rider enters he's hovering, looming over the other people; while he tries not to interfere, it's hard to get that much bulk out of the way when he's so intent on remaining at the man's side. E'sere, for his part, is desperately still, unmoving and unwaking as he's deposited on the bed.
Vanya is already in the Infirmary, vaguely taking a moment to point the procession to the examination cubicle. "Dara, see if you can reassure Morelenth," she says, a bit more control in her voice, now. "I know he's worried, but tell him I'm going to do everything I can for E'sere. I won't let them have him." There's that determination in her voice, and anger. A deep-rooted anger that whoever is responsible will not get away with this. She already has what she needs, gathering herbs that will help bring about vomiting. "Once you do that, I'm going to need someone to help me get him turned onto his side after I get this inside him. I hope you have a strong stomach," she warns, working quickly. Water is poured into a container, the herbs snatched from packets and mixed into it. Once that's done, she's grabbing a big, metal bowl and moving toward the inert E'sere, checking vitals once more. Good. Still breathing. Still alive. Grim determination on her face. "I won't let them win, not this time."
Essdara looks over at the bronze warily for a moment; even growing up here, reassuring a dragonis no easy task. But she approaches him and offers out a hand towards him. "He'll be ok." She says, firmly. "Vanya's great at what she does, and she's not about to let him, of all people, slip away. You'll be fine, promise." A glance back at Vanya. "Strong stomach?"
Morelenth croons toward the two women, lowering his great head to Essdara's hand; eyes whirl yellow fear as he watches Vanya, Essdara, and E'sere most of all. He does still himself as much as she's able, though he can't entirely halt his twitching as he stares.
"Yes, because I've got to induce vomiting, and that's never pretty," Vanya replies, mixing the emetic herbs into a glass of warm water. It smells sickeningly sweet, and even Vanya's gorge rises a bit as she moves toward E'sere with grim purpose. The metal bowl is handed to Dara. "I need you to put that bowl on a stool, right here, like so." She tilts E'sere's head back, opening his throat and pouring as much into the unconscious man's mouth as doesn't choke him. "That's right, E'sere, swallow it," she croons, voice soft and urging. "I dare not let him lie on his back when he starts vomiting, he'll literally drown. "Swallow it, E'sere, please." It's not easy getting an unconscious body to do what you want it to, but eventually, enough of the emetic gets down him, and she notes the tell-tale signs of regurgitation. "All right, help me turn him on his side. I can hold him after that. I need you to find the Weyrleader, one of the Weyrwomen, someone in authority, Dara. This has gone far enough."
Essdara pats the bronze a moment reassuringly, but then is off to help save his rider - any reluctance she might have on that point is thankfully masked well. She does as Vanya instructs, positioning the bowl as indicated. "Not gonna phase me, I've seen Immath eat." She says, with some small attempt at tension easing humor.
Once E'sere's body reacts to the emetic, Vanya holds him in place, cradling his head and shoulders over the edge of the bed. It's not easy but she nods as the contents of his stomach empty, giving him time to breathe between bouts of nausea. She picks up a dampened cloth, wiping his face and mouth when she has to. It takes a while. The human body doesn't empty itself easily, and that was a fairly large meal he ate. Once it's all over, and there's only dry heaves, Vanya breathes a little easier. "Water, Dara," she requests. "With some peppermint mixed in. Cool water."
Essdara nods, and moves to get the requested combination, a glass of the cool water the healers keep on hand mixed with a light powder of dried pepperment, rapidly infusing the water. She brings it back and, between retches, holds it to his lips.
Morelenth remains close, lifting his head to hover over the bed, watching intently every move Vanya makes, everything she does to his rider. He doesn't look terribly reassured by what she's doing, but he's not interfering, only staring as his rider heaving.
"Good, good," Vanya says, probably to Essdara, but maybe to E'sere and Morelenth as well. When the minted water remains down, doesn't come back up, Vanya takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. A check of pulse and breathing tells her E'sere is still alive, if not completely out of the woods. "All right, he's still alive, and still breathing, but pulse is slow. Take the water, and mix in just a bit of soy powder," Vanya instructs. "About a tablespoonful should do. That will stimulate his circulation, and help his heart rate." She seems a bit less rushed, now. E'sere's not in immediate danger, but there's still work to do. "The next hour will tell me if he'll pull through."
Essdara nods, moving about and putting the mixture together as Vanya has instructed. "Yes, ma'am." In this environment, Vanya is that; a Healer, not a friend. She adds soy to water and returns to E'sere's side to once more offer it to him.
Seated at the head of the bed in the small examination cubicle now, Vanya bathes E'sere's face and upper body with a cool, damp cloth. "Soybeans will also detoxify his system," she explains to the girl propping E'sere's head up so she can get more of the mint-soy-water mixture down him. "Dara, this has gone on long enough. Can you ask Morelenth to contact one of the queens? I want someone in authority to know about this, but I don't dare leave. I --" There's an expression of worry and concern on her face. "I won't stand by and let another person die, not if I can stop it." This isn't a healer talking, this is a woman afraid for the life of someone who means something to her. "E'sere's always been good to me, and --" She stops and looks up at the girl, fear in her eyes. "You were right. The threats and deaths have to stop. It's time that this ends."
Morelenth, continuing to hover over the unconscious E'sere and those around him, raises his head again at Vanya's words, chuffing once his own answer--though what that answer is is debateable, with E'sere unable to relay. The bronze eyes Vanya a long moment, then Essdara, and then the door expectantly before he turns back to E'sere. He still looks unhealthy, fear-tinged grey creeping across his dark hide, but at least he's not quivering anymore.
Essdara takes a moment to do just that, a quiet conversation with the dragon as she requests a goldrider's presence. There is, of course, only one Dara would trust, and Tialith's name carries in the quiet of the infirmary. After a firm instruction and a look to make sure the bronze has understood her, she returns to Vanya's side, taking her hand and giving a squeeze. "Did the best I could. We'll see if he'll help or not." She says, softly. "It does have to end, yes."
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth's deep voice contains an edgy note to it, near-panic contained only by force of will as he reaches out. << My rider-->> he begins, desperate. When words fail, he offers a picture instead: E'sere collapsing in Vanya's room, and then another of him lying unconscious in the infirmary. << They attacked him--he isn't well. The healers-->>
Morelenth> The queen's thoughts are slow and lurching for a moment as she is drawn out of slumber. They stretch outward languidly and then suddenly snap into focus as the news is taken in. Tialith's thoughts are weighty things that press and bump against the bronzes. << She comes. >>
The empty door is, after a moment, empty no longer as a figure dashes through. Her hands are on her hair, still twisting the braid up into the bun at the nape of her neck. The newest of High Reaches' juniors arrives quickly, but in mild dissaray. "What's happened?" she demands, out of breath, making her way towards the cot and the small cluster of people around it.
Vanya looks up from where she sits, a mess the best way to describe her appearance. "Another poisoning, m'am," she replies, the tone of her voice bearing witness to the horror that's inside her. "A near miss, thankfully," she adds, glancing down at the pale man on the bed in front of her. "Wingleader E'sere." She eyes the Weyrwoman and tries to school her features into that mask of professionalism she falls back on whenever stressed. "He and I have been working on a project together, and he was in my room going over a proposed program of warm-up exercises earlier when he collapsed. I got him here in time, I believe, and hopefully prevented his death. Only time will tell at this point." She takes a deep breath, turning to Essdara now. "Dara, a kitchen worker brought food for the Wingleader just before he arrived. The remains of that food are in the chest at the foot of my bed. The key is under my pillow. If you would be so kind?" she begs of the girl. "You've already done a lot to help me, but I need this one, last thing."
Morelenth swings his head around again to rumble at Roa as she arrives, eyes tracking her worriedly before he turns back to the healer. He fixes Vanya with a yellow-eyed stare for several minutes, until a quiet groan from his rider pulls his attention back. At once, the bronze is as fidgety as before, looming closer and watching E'sere, but the rider's still again, for the moment, conscious slow in returning.
Essdara gives Roa a relieved look as she comes in. "Roa." She says, softly. She lets go of the healer's hand, watching Roa approach. "E'sere." She says, motioning towards the bronzerider; Vanya's summed it up better, though, and she nods to Vanya. "Sure." She says. "Of course I will help however I can, Vanya. You know that, I'm not out to kill anyone." She looks to Roa. "I'll be right back, Roa."
The little weyrwoman makes her way to the opposite side of the cot to peer down at the rider. On her way, Morelenth is given a nod of greeting, but no more. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say who lies in the cot, but Roa doesn't chastise. She only listens silently, offering small nods to note that each fact has been received. First from Vanya and then from Essdara. "We don't know what poision it was yet, then?" She peers down at E'sere and then glances up, briefly, to Vanya. "Which kitchen worker? Can you describe him? Or her?"
At the groan from E'sere, all notice of the Weyrwoman, Dara and Morelenth instantly disappear, her attention now fully on the man. She places fingers on his jugular, closing her eyes, her lips moving as if she's counting something. Then they move to his wrist, doing the same. Other vitals are checked, the eyelids lifted. "Pupils still slightly dialated, but the pulse is stronger, heartbeat regular. Breathing good." She sits back down, having risen. "I fairly certain I got to him in time, m'am," she reports to the Weyrwoman. "Another hour and I'll know for certain." And then a look is granted to the bronze. "I'll pull him through, Morelenth, I promise. I won't let him die if I can at all prevent it," she says quietly, trying to reassure the dragon. Then her eyes go back to Roa. "I'm sorry, I'm Journeyman Healer Vanya, m'am. We've not met before, and I wish it were under better circumstances now." A pause. "I don't know her by name. Short, young, blonde hair and ... brown eyes," Vanya replies. "She was wearing a dark brown tunic and some kind of loose trousers. I would know her if I saw her again, that's all I can say."
Morelenth seems reassured enough by Vanya's words to settle down, to still himself again and linger at E'sere's bedside as the bronzerider starts to come around again. Eyelids flutter; he makes another muffled sound as he awakens, definitely woozy but still present.
And there is Roa, peering dow at him. "Welcome back, Wingleader," she offers gently before lifting her gaze to Vanya. "Well met, Journeyman, if under unfortunate circumstances. I am Roa of T-...well, of High Reaches, now. Thank you for having Morelenth contact me." A glance back down to E'sere, "It seems you owe this woman your life, sir." The description of the kitchen worker is tucked away with a small nod.
"I'll know more when I can get his plate up here," Vanya says in reference to the poison query. "There are a lot of things it could have been, but it wasn't bad food. It came on fast. One moment he was sitting in the chair eating, then went pale, and was down almost immediately after that." Fast-acting. "It had to be the food, since he drank nothing." There's a grimness about Vanya now, and a barely concealed anger that seethes just below the surface. "I'm not certain how it'll be figured out, but I'll stake my knot that it was deliberate." As there is more movement from E'sere, Vanya's attention once more returns to the rider. "Don't try to move, E'sere," she says to him, title forgotten. She places a hand on his chest, noting dampness. "He's sweating now, which is a good sign," she tells Roa. "It means the poison is working out of his system." She reaches for the glass of mint-soy water, and urges E'sere up, supporting him. "Drink more, if you can."
And back comes Dara. She's walking at a brisk pace, though doesn't seem the least winded by it. Along the way she has aquired a basket, with the offending foodstuffs being hidden inside as she carries it over to the healer. "Vanya." She says, offering it. Once it's out of her hands, a look over towards Roa and a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way. Word travels fast, and it was a bright bit of news on a bad day."
E'sere's smirk is reflexive but badly done, no more than a vain twitch of his lips as he tries to focus on the people hovering over him. With E'sere pulling through, Morelenth settles more, the greyish bronze lying down alongside the bed to be near his rider. E'sere manages to sip at the water, with Vanya's help, eyes still circling around as he tries to take in everything.
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth's mental touch is calmer, more relieved in the wake of E'sere's return to consciousness. << Give her our thanks, please? >> he requests, imaging Vanya. << And the other, too. >> This time, Essdara.
Lips curl upward, a wan smile offered for Essdara's kind words. "The bad day just continues on, doesn't it Dara, but thank you." Roa watches the basket exchange hands and then asks Vanya, "May I ask him a few questions?" And then, to E'sere, "Do you think that you can speak, Wingleader?" Once so casual with her own title, Roa is now quite precise with everyone else's. Her eyes glaze for a moment and then she notes, looking from Essdara to Vanya, "Morelenth sends the both of you his thanks."
When Dara returns, Vanya nods. "Thank you, Dara. There're some water-proof cloth bags in the drawer over there. Put plate and all, in one of the large ones, please." She then turns to Roa and E'sere. "It would've been nicer to meet under better circumstances, but --" She doesn't finish. "Congratulations," she offers simply, perhaps a little distracted. Vanya manages to get more liquid down E'sere, then seems to relax as he comes around. "I think a few questions should be all right, but he should stay here until we can make sure the poison is gone from his system." A glance at the bronze. "Morelenth can help me keep watch, and alert anyone should there be need." Another look to Roa. "M'am, I would like to entrust the evidence to you. I'm not skilled with analysis, and would feel better if it was with the appropriate authority."
E'sere takes deep breaths, eyes shutting again a moment as he gathers his energy. Then, looking up to Roa again, he manages a brief nod, licking dry lips. "Ye-yes," he murmurs in response to the question.
Essdara returns Roa's smile sympathetically. "As it ever does, Roa." She is distracted by Vanya's instrections, bustling about to complete them; she never questions why she should be with so many apprentices and aides around, simply doing. She returns after a moment with the bag, and sets about preserving the meal. "We should talk sometime, Roa, when things are... Quieter. It's been a long time, and I suspect we have a lot to catch up on." A slight smile, out of place with the grim surroundings. "Rather a lot."
"Yes. We should." This Roa directs towards Essdara, and the words are soft. Solemn. Her eyes move from Vanya to E'sere next as she steps away to draw up a seat. "I cannot say I am one for identifying poisons either, Journeyman, but I'll see it reaches the right hands and notify you with the results." Hands are lifted and held out for the bag with the plate. To E'sere she notes, "Journeyman Vanya has been kind enough to explain the circumstances of your collapse as she experienced them. That, after eating some of this food in her room, you suddenly collapsed and were rushed here. Is there anything else you might think to add, sir?"
E'sere is sweating; there is, now, a feverish red to his cheeks, but it is improvement at least over the death-pale of earlier. Confusion registers in his expression as Roa questions him, the bronzerider's brows knitting as he tries to remember. Finally, though, he shakes his head again, slightly--even that motion has him looking green underneath the flush again. Morelenth lifts his head to croon an answer himself, eyeing the goldrider.
Morelenth> To Tialith: Morelenth answers worriedly. << He doesn't--we can't remember. It's all... it's blurry, all of it. >> He manages the same image he sent earlier, of E'sere's collapse, but nothing else is forthcoming; the lack of memory fills his mental touch with anxiety again.
"I do caution, the Wingleader may not be very clear-headed, m'am," Vanya warns. She continues to bathe E'sere's face, neck and body, noting the feverish appearance. Without hesitation, she moves to a cabinet, pulling out a blanket, placing it over him. "After the fever may come chills," she explains, and there's a gentleness to her touch as she makes him as comfortable as possible on the narrow bed. "I am perfectly willing to explain to any authority necessary, m'am. I want to see this stop. There's enough danger for riders from Threadfall. They don't need to be afraid of dying from some lunatic's hands." And she winces. "I'm apologize, Weyrwoman. I shouldn't speak so, but my enemy is death. And I can't help but feel angry when something like this happens." She casts her eyes down at E'sere. "The Wingleader has always treated me with respect and kindness, and this is simply appalling to me."
Essdara smiles, just the faintest bit, and takes a step back. "If you will excuse me." She says, softly. "I think I've done all I can here. Vanya, if you need to talk about this later... I'll probably be in the baths, else in the dorms. Feel free to come find me." A look to E'sere. "Yes. This has to stop. Killing people isn't the way that we will fix the problems we have. All it will do is escalate things more." And, finally, Roa. "Clear skies, Roa. And I am glad, really glad, of the knot you have taken on."
"Appalling, indeed. Must stop, indeed. Far too many people have lain in these beds due to mysterious incidents and mishaps." Roa studies E'sere in silence for a moment, watching the flush of his skin and the sweat that prickles. "I'm certain Sinopa will wish a word with you, Vanya. Weyrleader J'cor as well, most likely. I'll pass on the information you have given so far. I presume you'll be staying with him?" Roa's focus turns to Vanya. "I would suggest inviting back in those infirmary employees you know well enough to identify and no others, tonight. The better to note any unfamiliar faces that may wish to creep in." And finish the job. "Unless there is anything else you can think to add, Vanya, I will have this," the bag is lifted, "set into the proper hands and I will leave you to your duty and the Wingleader to his recovery." As Essdara parts Roa adds, her voice a bit less formal, "Tomorrow, if you can, Essdara. Come visit me in the East Weyr."
Morelenth, chuffing again, snakes his nose over to brush against Essdara, gratitude in the gesture before he turns back to a still-hazy E'sere.
"Of course, m'am," Vanya replies, nodding, still continuing her ministrations. As Essdara being preparations to leave, she casts a grateful look to the girl. "Dara -- I can't thank you enough for helping. It -- your timely arrival and assistance may have tipped the scales in the wingleader's favor. I ... if you wouldn't mind, could you oversee making him something light in the morning? Broth, perhaps an egg or two. And ... for me, as well. I could just as easily have been a target, considering it's common to share meals." The words hang hollowly in the air. Then, she looks to Roa, and nods. "I don't plan to leave his side, Weyrwoman, and I'll be sure I know anyone who sets foot in this cubicle. You may trust me on that score. This won't be the first night I've spent in a chair beside a patient. And ..." Vanya moistens her lips. "Thank you. I'll be more than willing to speak to anyone necessary."
Essdara smiles gently to Vanya. "I'll be sure to bring you both breakfast, yes. I was already planning on it for you, at least." She looks over to Roa with a nod. "The east weyr, yes. I'll always find time for speaking. Perhaps a late lunch? Since I seem to be on delivery service anyway, I can drop some food here and come over to see you?" Morelenth, whiles she talks, gets a reassuring rub of his nose but no actual words.
There is a small nod for all of this and Roa is rising from her chair. "Someone, sinopa or J'cor , will seek you out tomorrow. est well until then. Good night." This last is addressed to all of them. And then Roa turns and makes her way towards the door.
E'sere, after his brief bout of consciousness, is looking groggy again, the night's ordeal weighing on his exhausted mind and body. Eyelids are drifting shut again, slowly, though Morelenth continues to look awake, some of his own color returning gradually as he settles in as close to his rider as he can.
Essdara slips off away from the slightly-alive bronzerider, and off towards, presumably, the bathes.
Vanya nods as the Weyrwoman makes her exit, and turns to E'sere, checking vitals again, breathing a soft sigh of relief they are returning to normal. He'll be feverish, and maybe nauseous again, but the worst is over. She makes sure the heavy curtain is closed, and tells the apprentices that she's not to be disturbed. That /no one/ is allowed in the cubicle save her, no exceptions. Not that she'll be leaving. No, she has one of them fetch her a chair from the lounge, and a blanket. Like she said, it won't be the first time she's slept in a chair. But, before she heads in that direction, she stands at the head of the bed, fingertips stroking E'sere's brow. There's no one there to see that gesture of affection, no one to later report there was anything amiss. And then she moves to the bronze dragon, sinking to her knees beside the great head, lightly reaching out for him, her eyes watching his for a long moment before whispering. "He'll be all right, Morelenth. I won't let anything happen to him, I promise."
In answer, Morelenth brushes his cheek against the woman, a rumble vibrating his throat as he looks to her for reassurances. His eyes are still tinted toward yellow and orange, but, at the edges, the beginnings of peaceful greens are reappearing as E'sere drifts into true sleep.
With a gentle hand, Vanya reaches up and scritches at the eye-ridges, trying to convey reassurance, trying not to cry. Now that the work is done, she can let the shakes begin anew, can give way to the horror and the mingled emotions spinning inside her. "I can't let him die," she whispers, her hands moving to his cheek, offering what small comfort she can to the much larger dragon. "I think I love him, Morelenth," she whispers. "I didn't mean to, but I do." And then, as if the terrible fear is too much for her, she lays her head on the dragon's neck, letting the tears fall now that E'sere's safe. In a few moments, Vanya will bring herself together, and rise, giving the bronze one final stroke for reassurance. "He'll be all right, I promise," she says, moving now to the bed, brushing E'sere's forelock off his brow. And then it's into the chair for the long night's vigil. Sleep? That won't come. Not for a long, long time.