Before, During & After: Nabol 'Fall
IC Date: Day 22, Month 7, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: Br'ce, Vanya, D'ven, Tavaly, N'ka, L'ret (NPCd by E'sere), Issa, T'zen, NPC Riders
Location: Mountain Clearing
Synopsis: On the day of the Nabol fall, the riders and Vanya rendezvous at the mountain clearing outside the weyr. Before, during and after. This log only includes those on the ground. The fight against Thread can be viewed elsewhere. (If anyone was left out of the list of participants, please forgive.)
Mountain Clearing
About an hour's moderate hike down a gentle slope from High Reaches Weyr, this large mountain clearing is shadowed by the peaks and spires that rise impressively in the distance. Roughly circular in shape, it has been used over the turns as a place for weary tithe and merchant trains to pause for a night's rest before continuing upwards. At some point in the distant past, a Reaches Weyrwoman had a small racetrack built here as well. It circles the outside of the clearing, bare earth packed down under a layer of softer soil.
The rest of the clearing is given over to soft grass broken with rocky patches. Tiny white and blue flowers are scattered through the meadow, thickest near the center. The outer edge of the clearing is ringed in small redfruit trees. They aren't large enough to provide a significant harvest of fruit and the thin mountain air has stunted the trees somewhat, but if the season is right they do provide for a hungry traveller. Playful summer winds ruffle the landscape, turning calm waters into choppy whitecaps and smooth ground into a dusty obstacle course.
BEFORE
Br'ce stands in the middle of the Mountain Clearing outside the bowl, Trellazoth curled sinuously behind him. Flanking him are some of the riders of 3C and Benden who have decided to join him, though more are still trickling in. There's a grim, but patient expression on his face as he watches the riders come in silently. Apparently he's waiting until there's a quorum to begin speaking.
Ruvoth soars down from places not High Reaches Weyr, as if this is just his last stop in a chain of mountain pleasure trips. His talons dig deep into the turf as he lights, and R'vain, with an expression rather admirably unremarkable for him, remains aseat and crosses his arms while the big bronze shifts about beneath, finding a place out of the way of anyone else landing from which both he and his rider may see and hear.
The wingsecond L'ret and his brown, along with a handful of other 2C riders, are among the first to trickle in, lazily soaring downward to land on the ground with the other already assembled. For the next little while, more of 2C--the same riders as last time Nabol was flown, with one notable and noticeable exception--collects around him, the cluster chattering amongst themselves, some nervous, more excited.
Up the mountain road comes a runner only barely under control. At the lead, is Vanya and another woman, both recognizable as healers. Vanya is dressed in utilitarian trews and tunic, and on the runner's back is what looks like an odd assortment of bags and wrapped items in nets and whatever she could get to carry it. The runner is decidedly /not/ happy, either because he's being used as a pack animal, or the fact there are dragons near by. At any rate, the healer does finally manage to get him secured to a small tree, and quickly they unload the animal, whose eyes are wild with near-panic. After a moment, it's apparent the burden is medical supplies, things needed for helping minor injuries. Vanya chooses a place out of the way, and simply starts setting up a make-shift aid station. Not large, not well equipped, but enough so she can slap some numbweed on a minor score, or bandage some small injury. Anything worse will have to go to the weyr. After all this, she moves toward where
Br'ce stands, just watching and listening. Oce the animal is unloaded, the other woman mounts him and the leave, perhaps at a faster pace than they arrived.
D'ven is standing to the side of Br'ce, Teraneth standing next to the curled Trellazoth. While his Wingleader's expression is grim, the Wingsecond's is that of barely supressed excitement and adrenaline. It's clear just keeping still and quiet is proving a challenge for him right now, but he's doing his best to follow the tone Br'ce is setting.
Br'ce shades his eyes, watching as L'ret and 2C arrive. There's a respectful nod of greeting given. A moment's further pause to let the riders get settled, and he takes a short step forwards, holding a hand up for silence. Another short pause while he waits until he has everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen," The modulated voice is projected with a bit of an effort; usually he has D'ven be the one to shout at large groups of people. "You know why you are here. Think about it. If any of you are here looking to be heroes, I would like for you to turn around and go home, right now. There is no room for self-aggrandizement in this 'Fall." He folds his arms grimly, fixing the assembly with a stern eye.
R'vain's expression grows more and more unpleasant as he lifts a hand, shading his eyes so he can squint over the members of 3C assembled. It might seem that he's looking for someone specific-- and unhappy, to the extreme, not to find them. But then there's the soft sound of a late arrival, of wide-spread dragonwings, and V'to's young and barely-tried brown comes to a landing not far from Ruvoth. The Weyrlingmaster's long-time lackey does not so much as look at R'vain, nor the bronze R'vain still sits astride-- but he does turn his face upward toward his Wingleader, eyes wide and fearful as he catches the last few words Br'ce has to say. But V'to does not leave. No one said cowards had to leave-- and V'to, well. Like his Weyrlingmaster, V'to is not so much the stuff of heroes.
2C quiets when Br'ce begins speaking, and though some, the youngest of them, can't hide their grins, they're at least properly silent while Br'ce begins to speak. L'ret, at their fore, is blank-faced calm, the wingsecond setting a better example for them in his steady regard of 3C's wingleader.
"We cannot save Nabol." Br'ce declares at the outside. "What we can do, however, is minimize the damage. Our numbers are too few to save all of it, but we can more than adequately cover the populated areas of the Hold, and prevent lives from being lost. We are on a humanitarian mission, our primary aim is to keep as many safe as possible. This /includes/ yourselves. Through carelessly injuring yourself, you will be doing your weyr, and the hold, a major disservice." He turns slightly, to gesture at Vanya. "The journeyman here has volunteered to set up a small aid station, with what supplies she could garner. Those with minor injuries will report here for treatment. Those with major injuries will, of course, report back to the weyr itself." There's a small gesture, and at the cue, Nari, the slender greenrider, steps forwards and hands Br'ce a hide. "The assignments are as follows--T'vek, S'rek, T'pas, S'leta will be joining..." He reads off the assignments--the various riders from different wings are mostly clumped into elements of 2C, while the Benden Riders are mostly placed next to some of their transferred companions.
D'ven bites down on his lip at the comment about 'carelessly injuring', but manages to avoid saying anything inappropriate. Ironically, there's a small bead of blood that shows exactly how much effort that took. It's licked at experimentally, the bronzerider sucking on his lower lip to get rid of it.
Vanya has done all she could. By having those with small injuries come here, perhaps no one will realize how many riders are actually taking part in this illicit flight. She'll do her part, and has at least alerted the few healers she knows well enough to trust, there could be some bad injuries heading their way. She looks around at those gathered, recognizing quite a few, and hoping if she doesn't see them here, that will only mean they aren't injured, not ... anything worse. Other than a nod when Br'ce mentions her, she says nothing, just listens and hopes for the best.
Speaking of heroes. Over the rise of the mountain wall a trio of young dragons appear. Two of them are obviously just out of weyrlinghood. The other has been out for a turn or two. They form a small 'V' in the sky as the begin to drop down toward the clearing. Immath opens her maw and honks at the gathering below, Tav raising a hand in greeting. Behind her, atop a burly brown, B'rute, too raises hand in greeting. To the left is an unknown bluerider - the two-turn'd rider. They descend low enough to land and Tav catches the last of Br'ce's speech as she slips from Immath's shoulder. "Where y'want me, chief?"
R'vain, though Ruvoth has started slinking toward some of the 3C riders, lifts a signal salute to V'to as soon as he has a chance to send one the lad's way, then with a slap upside the bronze's thick neck sends his dragon prowling over toward 2C to fill out the ranks there as bid. A laugh escapes the red man, rumbling out over the clearing in a soft, raspy pitch, but he stifles it quickly. His glance toward Tavaly could be missed; there's a lot to see and attend to today.
"Tavaly, I want you and your two companions with the rest of your wing, L'ret, you may assign them as necessary." The litany of assignments is finished, and Br'ce pauses for a moment. "When we finish this 'Fall, you will return individually and directly to your weyrs. We are not here to grandstand or make a scene. Unless you have major injury that requires treatment, or are aiding such a companion, returns forthwith to your weyr." He looks down briefly, seeking some words that are a little less warning-like and a little more inspirational. "We are doing this in defiance of our lawful master. We are defying centuries of tradition, and the repercussions may be more than we can fathom. But we do this not for our own sake, but for others. We are following the oldest tradition of all, and obeying the most basic of the laws that govern us. When Thread falls, dragonmen must fly. That is all." Said curtly, and he follows up his statements with immediately swinging up onto Trellazoth, and strapping himself in, to launch up into the skies, and to Nabol, followed by the rest of the dragons.
DURING
There's not much evidence in the clearing now. Just Vanya sitting over near a couple of trees, some odds and ends around her, mostly what looks to be medical supplies, some water skins, and wine skins she convinced a few of the kitchen helpers to get to her here. Not a lot of everything, but there's one barrel that wasn't there when the riders left. How she managed to get a barrel of numbweed up here, well, that's anyone's guess. But it's there, and ready in case it's needed. The healer herself is sitting under the same tree, eyes scanning the sky.
There's no warning for his arrival, just a sudden swoop of wings over treetops as Uneth wings in from the Weyr and drops to a landing. He has his straps on, but no rider. Instead, T'zen appears not long after, casually strolling along the road. He's not watching the sky. He doesn't need to. Instead, it's the trees he watches, lost in thought.
Vanya is instantly alerted by the sound of those wings, but then realizes he's sans rider. This bothers her for a long moment, and then she understands when T'zen comes strolling up the road. Her lips purse slightly -- this is a lot farther than she's authorized the rider to walk, after all -- but he doesn't seem to be in any distress, and today, she's not going to fuss. "G'day, T'zen," she says when he gets close enough. "Have you ... does Uneth ... know anything about ...?" No need to worry; she's sure T'zen can fill in the blanks.
Uneth alerts T'zen to Vanya's presence before he actually sees her, and so registers no surprise when she talks. Instead, he looks around. "Only us here, then?" He looks over at Uneth, and answers after a moment. "Still goin'. Haven't heard more'n that yet." He closes the distance, not changing the pace of his walk.
The healer in her can't help but observe how he's moving, but, she's not frowning. "Still, yes. I haven't seen or heard anything, so I'm thinking no news is good news in this case." She falls silent, gesturing to where she sits. "Join me, if you want. There's some food and juice. Not a lot, but ... hard to sneak a feast and infirmary out of the weyr." Then, belatedly. "Yes, I'm the ground crew today."
The bluerider chooses to lean against a tree, rather than actually sit. "I'll let them have the food," he says, only now looking up at the sky, though not really searching. "I was in the first one o' these, y'know," he says evenly. "Shard my luck I have to sit out o' this one. And Tav's up there again."
Vanya nods. "I've done the best I can for them, rest assured," she says, obviously wishing she could have done more. "I let a few trusted healers know there might be serious injuries, and brought as much up here as I could. I can take care of minor things, but anything beyond that --" She shrugs. "The waiting's the worst. The not knowing."
"Aye. Waitin' instead of doin'." The statement simply drops. Either he's got his emotions under control, or there aren't any. Uneth sits back on his haunches, looking much like a sentry for the clearing, watching and waiting patiently. His tail tip flicks from side to side. Otherwise the dragon remains still.
Vanya doesn't press for more conversation, perhaps realizing T'zen's thoughts are with his weyrmate and the other riders up there somewhere. She busies herself with braiding some long-stemmed wild flowers into some kind of wreath, nothing important. After a while, she does ask, "How far away is Nabol?" And then, "Do you think there will be trouble over this, T'zen. I mean not just with the Weyrleader, but the Lord Holders?"
"A couple day's hard ride from here," T'zen says with a shrug. His hands find his pockets as he continues his tree lean. "Sure there'll be trouble. But it should be the holders in trouble, not us." He looks up at the branches over his head. "Didn't learn their lesson from last time."
Vanya draws her knees up, wrapping her arms about them. "I asked E'sere about it once, but we got interrupted before he could finish answering." She stops, then, realizing that the wingleader's -- /former/ wingleader, now -- name might not be politic to mention, all things considering. "I wish people would just realize that Thread is everyone's enemy, and not be so ... hidebound and silly over things. So many people will be hurt for the sake of pride."
T'zen's eyes do narrow at Vanya. "So many have already been hurt 'cause o' pride." Whether it's Threadfall or more local events he's referring to, he doesn't say. He moves away from his perch against the tree now, walking a few steps away before pausing, watching Uneth, and then the trees again.
Realizing she's not really able to speak intelligently on this subject, Vanya falls silent, just sitting there. Waiting. The sun warms her back, but there's a chill that creeps down her spine as the minutes and hours stretch on.
Uneth remains as he is, a sentinel over the clearing. His head cocks slightly, but then continues his stillness. T'zen, in the time they wait, makes a slow walk around the clearing, not content to remain still, or seated.
And the hours crawl slowly on.
AFTER
It's the rush of wings that draws Vanya's attention, and she's on her feet in a second. A few other things have been brought to the clearing -- food stuffs and wine skins, though not an over abundance of either. It's mostly fruit and meatrolls, enough for everyone to at least get one or two. Apparently, there's been support from the kitchens. But Vanya's looking for injuries, her eyes scanning dragons and people. She moves to a barrel -- how she got it here is anyone's guess -- but it's there in case it's needed. Numbweed.
Obedient to their leader's wishes, Ruvoth-- unharmed, thanks to Immath's attentions-- blinks out over Nabol, and in over High Reaches Weyr. He alights, and disappears into the weyrling complex, rider still astride.
Uneth has been standing sentinel in the clearing. As the dragons begin to appear, his head perks, and he offers a bugle to some of the dragons that come close enough. T'zen appears out from beneath the trees, on the opposite side of the clearing from Vanya. He starts scanning the sky, face neutral.
Part way through the latter end of the fall, an unmistakably large bronze descends. Dismounting with an unusually slow and careful motion, D'ven heads towards the healer station. The Aces that once adorned his flying jacket are gone, and there's a nasty mark on his shoulder. Four twisted lines where thread has begun to eat at him, before the cold of between bit into it.
It's among the last of the green and blew arrivals that Immath is finally seen. Though her wing beats are tired, she still has the gumption to greet Uneth with a warbling call of triumph. Atop the green, Tav is already loosing her straps before Immath finds a good place away from the 'healing area' to rest. Whoosh. The girl drops from Immath's shoulder, yanking off helmet and goggles and still throwing up a hand in victorious exclamation. She rushes to T'zen, kissing his cheek and giving him a short, "Untouched. Both of us. Gonna see if I can help Vanya." Before she's pelting toward the woman and her little band of rebel healers and asking what she can do to help even before she stands still.
Oshisyth blinks into the skies amidst the haphazard return of several greens, before the bulk of the wings returns from 'fall. They glide down to the ground, visibly tired, but unhurt. The pair lands near where Uneth sits, near Immath, but Issa is slow to dismount, losing gloves and helmet before she even stands in the straps.
N'ka is there with the rest, no injuries, but helping out if he can.
Br'ce leads the rest of the wings, exhausted, back to the mountain clearing. Many have small injuries, but by and large there are relatively few major injuries, given the circumstances. It could have been a great deal worse. Br'ce's face is pale with exhaustion as he slides off his dragon, injured leg nearly buckling under him as he clutches at strap for support. Wanly he looks around, accepting the uninjured Nari's aid to get him over to the aid station. "Those of--" his voice cracks, parched, and he swallows convulsively before trying again. "Those of you who are uninjured may return to your weyrs. Quietly, please." he gives the orders in as loud a voice as he can, given his hoarseness from shouting orders.
Vanya's already loosening the lid to the numbweed, preparing. She has redwort handy, and bandages ready to apply when needed. She's only one person, and the sight of Tavaly heading her way is a welcome sight. "Oh, thank you," she says, grateful to the greenrider, eyes scanning her quickly. "Send any injured this way, most serious first, please," she requests, moving with efficiency, readying herself to do what she can. As if they realize she's handling this by herself, some of the riders are helping others to where she and Tavaly are. The first one she notes in need of attention is Br'ce himself, and Vanya waves him and Nari over. "Wingleader," she says, nodding, and setting to work as soon as he's close enough, grabbing a bowl and dumping cold water into it.
"I could have stayed in it." D'ven mutters as soon as Br'ce passes within earshot, the bronzerider hanging around the aid station with a decidedly sulky air. It's clear he's half-ready to slink off, but the part of him that enjoys having a working arm and not being yelled at by a lot of people is keeping the desire to leave in check.
T'zen doesn't run out to meet Tavaly as she dismounts, but his walk is brisk. The meeting is far too brief and she's off again, but T'zen does relax some. "Good." He continues his walk to Immath, reaching a hand out to the tired green's muzzle. "Hey girl." Uneth croons to Immath, and warbles a welcome to the nearby Oshisyth.
Immath stretches her nose out to the bluerider and rumbles appreciatively, the light greenish whirl to her eyes a pure sign of her smugness. Yea. That's right. Uneth gets a good nuzzle once he's in range and after that, the greenrider folds her neck around and ducks it under one forearm. Quick time for a nap!
"Yes, you could have, D'ven, but we're scheduled to fly over River Bend next. I need you in as good a shape as possible." Br'ce responds wearily. "Besides, I needed you to set a good example, or else everyone with injuries would have stayed in." He seats himself gingerly on the ground, steeling himself for treatment. It's not a major injury, not very deep. "The rest of you, get going. Back home. You can rest there. Good work, people. I'm proud of you. All of you."
And then there's D'ven. The first thing Vanya notices is the jacket, the missing aces. She can't help but wince. "How bad, D'ven?" she asks as she carries the bowl toward Br'ce. To Tavaly, she adds, "Cold water and bowls beside the big box of bandages. Redwort under the white cloth." Not a harsh tone, but informative, quick. And then her attention is back to waiting for Br'ce or D'ven, whichever of them reaches her first. And it's Br'ce, so Vanya examines the injury. "I'll have to cut away the trousers," she warns, pulling a small belt knife from it's sheath after she sets down the bowl of water. "Glad to see you back, sir."
Issa slips down from the straps one-handed, still holding her helmet and gloves, the maneuver surprisingly graceful. Oshisyth, with her rider now safely on the ground, stretches up and gives herself a hearty shake, wings puffing out with the effort, and a quiet whistling greeting is returned to Uneth. Ash drifts down, finding its way onto Issa's shoulders and into her hair, but she cares little for that right now. She's dropped her gear to the ground and is lifting her hair, fingers probing gingerly at a small lance of reddened skin on the back of her neck. Exploratory fingertips come away clean, her quick survey finding so signs of blood, and so she leaves it for now, turning to T'zen with a sigh. "Another one done," she comments idly, a quick smile sent his way before she turns to sweep across those in the healer's area, and then those leaving for home.
"Bad enough." D'ven replies with perhaps more bitterness than he means, before softning slightly. "Sorry." He even manages a small smile. The comment to Br'ce gets an outright laugh. "Actually, scratch that, much better now I know someone is cutting Br'ce's trousers off." So professional, that man.
The muzzle of Immath is caressed by T'zen for the brief moment the green dragon allows. "Thata girl," he says quietly, and moves towards his dragon once the green curls up for her nap. He nods to Issa with a slight smile, and then looks over to where Tavaly is bustling about assisting Vanya. And finally, he reaches Uneth. With a tug on the straps, and a careful glance to make sure nobody's really paying him mind, he works himself up on Uneth's neck, and the pair depart into the sky.
"Just one leg of the trousers should surely be sufficient." Br'ce murmers to Vanya with a wan smile. "A quick bandaging should be sufficient. I have to get back to the weyr and see to the more injured riders that you sent on."
In actuality, Vanya was asking about his arm, but she accepts the bronzerider's answer anyway. Perhaps it's applicable, anyway. "Just one small area of the trousers," she agrees, and sets about her work with quick efficiency. Cut seam, clean wound with cold water and redwort, apply numbweed, and bandage. All accomplished with speed and sure hands. "There. You're done. See me tomorrow if anything changes. "Good job, Wingleader," she adds, getting to her feet. "Who's next?"
A nod, and a remount, gingerly assisted by Nari. "I will see you back at the weyr. Thank you for your assistance, Journeyman. Riders." And he's winging off into the sky, heavy-hearted, to see to the disposition of the unluckier riders.
"I guess that'd be me." D'ven replies, watching as Br'ce goes. "Then I'd better get after him, he shouldn't be doing that on his own." There's a definite disapproval in the bronzerider's tone at being left behind, injured or not.
Issa stands waiting, as Oshisyth stretches out to rest behind her, no sign of the pain of that burn anywhere in her expression. Lips have settled into a quiet line and her tired eyes remain trained on the healer area, focused there even as Br'ce takes himself back to the Weyr. For several long minutes, she lingers there on the edges, the uninjured riders around her taking off, one by one, and scattering back to their homes quietly. Finally, she moves with a slow step toward Vanya, making sure to keep out of Tavaly's path as the younger greenrider bustles past. "Healer?" she intrudes quietly with a mildly apologetic glance to D'ven, "When you've got a minute, I just need some numbweed. Maybe some to take back." A meager smile is offered and the greenrider awaits a response patiently, riding jacket creasing as she crosses her arms in front of her.
"Right," Vanya nods, quickly replacing the water in the bowl, repeating the same things she did with Br'ce. "Just take off the jacket, and I'll take care of that for you." She looks at the ruined Aces, and there's a hint of sadness in her expression. "Your lucky aces," she says softly. "You'll have to get it redone." But, as soon as the jacket is off, she's removing the fabric of his shirt, and washing those trailing lines with cold water and redwort, and slapping numbweed on it. She then reaches behind her and snags a wineskin, thrusting it at him as she turns to Issa. "Small jars of it right beside the blue bag. Take one. Where were you hit and how bad? Be done here in five."
D'ven removes the jacket without complaint, letting Vanya go about her work. "Yes, I'll have to get it redone." He agrees, sounding rather sad. Once things are done, he takes the wineskin with a grateful smile. "Thanks. I'd better get back, make sure Br'ce isn't trying to do too much without me." And then he's heading off towards Teraneth, and back to the weyr.
"Not hit," Issa corrects, absently as she immediately turns to mount a search for the blue bag Vanya speaks of. "Just a minor burn, I think." Her gaze roams over the healer's set up until the slip of blue is found and then she wanders over to it, arms unfolded so she can retrieve one of the small jars. She hefts it as she listens idly to the conversation between Vanya and D'ven, little tosses and catches that create a tiny smacking sound against her palm. With a sideways look, she watches D'ven leave and then turns that wan, tired smile of hers back to Vanya. "This it?" And she holds up the numbweed jar for confirmation.
EPILOGUE
And then there were ... two. Vanya looks around the clearing, and blinks. Such a long wait, and then the rush, and then ... peace. Over. Done. Complete. She turns, making certain the greenrider has found the small jars of numbweed, and moves in her direction. "That's it," she says, her voice a little drained now that the excitement is over. "Glad you weren't worse injured." Then she looks around at the scattered supplies and what's left of the food and wineskins. A sigh. "Better do as the wingleader says, m'am. Nothing left to do here but clean up and then walk back to the weyr."
Issa peers down at the jar again, the fingers of her right hand gently travelling back behind her hair to find the burn again. A wince overtakes her expression quickly, fleetingly, and that hand falls away. "I'm glad, too," the greenrider says, amusement tickling her tone as she offers a more sure smile. As Vanya looks around, Issa also investigates the remains. Particularly those leftover wineskins. With her right hand, she sneaks one of them, full and unstoppered and so conveniently located on that nearby table, closer to her. "Do you mind if I... take this back with me?" An eyebrow raises as she poses the question. "I think it'd make a nice addition to the numbweed."
"That's why it's here --" Vanya stops. "I don't know your name, but I've seen you about the weyr. I'm Vanya," she offers, smiling. "Would you like me to take a quick look? I don't mind." She glances down at the ground, bending at the knees to pick up a stray bandage, and the now empty bowl. "Chena will be by to get this stuff back to the weyr. It was our agreement." Why she's explaining, she doesn't really know. "I'm taking her shifts over the next few weeks for her help in this."
"Issa," the greenrider offers just after the healer's introduction, then, with a gesture of the sloshing wineskin toward the listless green just a little ways off, "Oshisyth's." Pale blue eyes flick to the woman's face quickly, memorizing, before they drop to the mess that she begins to straighten. "That's good of you. Bit of a risk." It's light conversation and treated as such, her tone unabashedly simple and weary. "Um. If... Could you just check and make sure it's not worse than I think? Can't really see it," she explains, switching the wineskin to dangle by the neck in the same hand as the little jar so that she can lift the curtain of curls up and away to reveal the injury-- a thin strip of redness along the back right side of her neck, no blistering, just a deep red puffiness.
Vanya doesn't mind, and moves to a position where she can see better. "It's not bad. No blood, just redness. Here, let me clean it off and I'll put some numbweed on it for you. It'll probably bee painful for a couple of days, but it'll heal fine, not even a scar probably." She moves to get a waterskin, a cloth and doesn't even need redwort since the skin isn't broken. It's cleaned quickly dried and she holds out her hand for the jar. "It's not bad at all. You're very lucky." As for the rest? "Chena's good people. One of her sons was up there with you today. I don't know his name, I'm sorry. He's a brown rider in one of the wings. Don't know which, though."
"Good," Issa offers with weary relief for Vanya's diagnosis. There's a smell of firestone ash emanating from her, clinging to her hair and riding jacket and mixing in with the odor sweat from the 'fall, just beginning to sour. That little jar is relinquished readily when asked for, plopped down into the outstretched hand as she attempts to keep her head as still as possible for the woman. The motion causes a single wavy curl to drift down, though, from the bundle that Issa holds out of the way and it falls inconveniently down across Vanya's working area. "Chena." The greenrider repeats the name, thoughtfully drawing it out. "Sounds familiar. I think my mother might know her."
"Older lady, dark reddish-brown hair, blue eyes," Vanya offers a short description. "She's not Healer Hall trained, but helps in the Infirmary, mostly. She's got two boys, one about 20 who's at one of the holds nearby. I'm sorry, I can't tell you more. She was, apparently, weyrmated to a rider killed a few turns ago during a bad 'fall. So, she started working with the healers, trying to help out. I know she does other work, but I'm not sure what. She evidently heard what was going on, and offered to help. She's the one to thank for the food."
Issa begins to nod, but then catches the unconscious gesture and offers a quiet, "I see," instead. When the application of the numbweed is done, she gently lowers her curls back down over the burn and pivots to regard the healer once again. "My thanks, then," she says, raising the wineskin she still holds tightly, "to both of you." Her grin quirks, then falls. "I should get back. Before they start to wonder. Did you want a ride?" Casually, she holds her free right hand out, palm up, for the return of the numbweed.
Vanya looks around, feeling guilty for leaving everything to Chena but, nods as she steps from behind Issa. "If you don't mind waiting a few minutes?" she says. "I just need to gather things up, and close the barrel. If you could give me time to do that?" The Healer begins to do just that, making certain it's not going to be contaminated while it waits for pick up. The bits of bread she tosses toward the underbrush, left for small creatures to feast upon. The fruit, however, she gathers into a bag, and one of the wineskins. "I think that's all. If your Oshisyth doesn't mind a tired healer, I'd be grateful for a lift back. I'm almost afraid of what's waiting there."
Issa does nod this time, now that she has free range of her head back, a definitive indication that the healer should do what's needed. The greenrider watches silently as the tasks are completed, eyes following Vanya without there being any sort of effort behind the gaze. "Least we can do," she responds then, straightening and flashing a reassuring smile at the healer. "More work for the weary, no doubt," she speculates idly as she turns and begins to wander toward her dragon. Oshisyth lifts herself heavily from her flopped position, giving another little shake before she settles down into a waiting crouch. "Come on," Issa then says, gesturing with a tilt of her head for the healer to follow.
And Vanya follows, sighing softly, a smile on her lips as she approaches the green. "My thanks to you both," she says, nodding to the obviously weary rider and dragon. "A good day's work for everyone, and if there's punishment, I'll gladly take my share. I was as willing a participant as you all." She waits to mount after Issa, quickly arranging the straps, securing them. "Whenever you're ready, Issa, Oshisyth. Let's go home."
Players: Br'ce, Vanya, D'ven, Tavaly, N'ka, L'ret (NPCd by E'sere), Issa, T'zen, NPC Riders
Location: Mountain Clearing
Synopsis: On the day of the Nabol fall, the riders and Vanya rendezvous at the mountain clearing outside the weyr. Before, during and after. This log only includes those on the ground. The fight against Thread can be viewed elsewhere. (If anyone was left out of the list of participants, please forgive.)
Mountain Clearing
About an hour's moderate hike down a gentle slope from High Reaches Weyr, this large mountain clearing is shadowed by the peaks and spires that rise impressively in the distance. Roughly circular in shape, it has been used over the turns as a place for weary tithe and merchant trains to pause for a night's rest before continuing upwards. At some point in the distant past, a Reaches Weyrwoman had a small racetrack built here as well. It circles the outside of the clearing, bare earth packed down under a layer of softer soil.
The rest of the clearing is given over to soft grass broken with rocky patches. Tiny white and blue flowers are scattered through the meadow, thickest near the center. The outer edge of the clearing is ringed in small redfruit trees. They aren't large enough to provide a significant harvest of fruit and the thin mountain air has stunted the trees somewhat, but if the season is right they do provide for a hungry traveller. Playful summer winds ruffle the landscape, turning calm waters into choppy whitecaps and smooth ground into a dusty obstacle course.
BEFORE
Br'ce stands in the middle of the Mountain Clearing outside the bowl, Trellazoth curled sinuously behind him. Flanking him are some of the riders of 3C and Benden who have decided to join him, though more are still trickling in. There's a grim, but patient expression on his face as he watches the riders come in silently. Apparently he's waiting until there's a quorum to begin speaking.
Ruvoth soars down from places not High Reaches Weyr, as if this is just his last stop in a chain of mountain pleasure trips. His talons dig deep into the turf as he lights, and R'vain, with an expression rather admirably unremarkable for him, remains aseat and crosses his arms while the big bronze shifts about beneath, finding a place out of the way of anyone else landing from which both he and his rider may see and hear.
The wingsecond L'ret and his brown, along with a handful of other 2C riders, are among the first to trickle in, lazily soaring downward to land on the ground with the other already assembled. For the next little while, more of 2C--the same riders as last time Nabol was flown, with one notable and noticeable exception--collects around him, the cluster chattering amongst themselves, some nervous, more excited.
Up the mountain road comes a runner only barely under control. At the lead, is Vanya and another woman, both recognizable as healers. Vanya is dressed in utilitarian trews and tunic, and on the runner's back is what looks like an odd assortment of bags and wrapped items in nets and whatever she could get to carry it. The runner is decidedly /not/ happy, either because he's being used as a pack animal, or the fact there are dragons near by. At any rate, the healer does finally manage to get him secured to a small tree, and quickly they unload the animal, whose eyes are wild with near-panic. After a moment, it's apparent the burden is medical supplies, things needed for helping minor injuries. Vanya chooses a place out of the way, and simply starts setting up a make-shift aid station. Not large, not well equipped, but enough so she can slap some numbweed on a minor score, or bandage some small injury. Anything worse will have to go to the weyr. After all this, she moves toward where
Br'ce stands, just watching and listening. Oce the animal is unloaded, the other woman mounts him and the leave, perhaps at a faster pace than they arrived.
D'ven is standing to the side of Br'ce, Teraneth standing next to the curled Trellazoth. While his Wingleader's expression is grim, the Wingsecond's is that of barely supressed excitement and adrenaline. It's clear just keeping still and quiet is proving a challenge for him right now, but he's doing his best to follow the tone Br'ce is setting.
Br'ce shades his eyes, watching as L'ret and 2C arrive. There's a respectful nod of greeting given. A moment's further pause to let the riders get settled, and he takes a short step forwards, holding a hand up for silence. Another short pause while he waits until he has everyone's attention. "Ladies and Gentlemen," The modulated voice is projected with a bit of an effort; usually he has D'ven be the one to shout at large groups of people. "You know why you are here. Think about it. If any of you are here looking to be heroes, I would like for you to turn around and go home, right now. There is no room for self-aggrandizement in this 'Fall." He folds his arms grimly, fixing the assembly with a stern eye.
R'vain's expression grows more and more unpleasant as he lifts a hand, shading his eyes so he can squint over the members of 3C assembled. It might seem that he's looking for someone specific-- and unhappy, to the extreme, not to find them. But then there's the soft sound of a late arrival, of wide-spread dragonwings, and V'to's young and barely-tried brown comes to a landing not far from Ruvoth. The Weyrlingmaster's long-time lackey does not so much as look at R'vain, nor the bronze R'vain still sits astride-- but he does turn his face upward toward his Wingleader, eyes wide and fearful as he catches the last few words Br'ce has to say. But V'to does not leave. No one said cowards had to leave-- and V'to, well. Like his Weyrlingmaster, V'to is not so much the stuff of heroes.
2C quiets when Br'ce begins speaking, and though some, the youngest of them, can't hide their grins, they're at least properly silent while Br'ce begins to speak. L'ret, at their fore, is blank-faced calm, the wingsecond setting a better example for them in his steady regard of 3C's wingleader.
"We cannot save Nabol." Br'ce declares at the outside. "What we can do, however, is minimize the damage. Our numbers are too few to save all of it, but we can more than adequately cover the populated areas of the Hold, and prevent lives from being lost. We are on a humanitarian mission, our primary aim is to keep as many safe as possible. This /includes/ yourselves. Through carelessly injuring yourself, you will be doing your weyr, and the hold, a major disservice." He turns slightly, to gesture at Vanya. "The journeyman here has volunteered to set up a small aid station, with what supplies she could garner. Those with minor injuries will report here for treatment. Those with major injuries will, of course, report back to the weyr itself." There's a small gesture, and at the cue, Nari, the slender greenrider, steps forwards and hands Br'ce a hide. "The assignments are as follows--T'vek, S'rek, T'pas, S'leta will be joining..." He reads off the assignments--the various riders from different wings are mostly clumped into elements of 2C, while the Benden Riders are mostly placed next to some of their transferred companions.
D'ven bites down on his lip at the comment about 'carelessly injuring', but manages to avoid saying anything inappropriate. Ironically, there's a small bead of blood that shows exactly how much effort that took. It's licked at experimentally, the bronzerider sucking on his lower lip to get rid of it.
Vanya has done all she could. By having those with small injuries come here, perhaps no one will realize how many riders are actually taking part in this illicit flight. She'll do her part, and has at least alerted the few healers she knows well enough to trust, there could be some bad injuries heading their way. She looks around at those gathered, recognizing quite a few, and hoping if she doesn't see them here, that will only mean they aren't injured, not ... anything worse. Other than a nod when Br'ce mentions her, she says nothing, just listens and hopes for the best.
Speaking of heroes. Over the rise of the mountain wall a trio of young dragons appear. Two of them are obviously just out of weyrlinghood. The other has been out for a turn or two. They form a small 'V' in the sky as the begin to drop down toward the clearing. Immath opens her maw and honks at the gathering below, Tav raising a hand in greeting. Behind her, atop a burly brown, B'rute, too raises hand in greeting. To the left is an unknown bluerider - the two-turn'd rider. They descend low enough to land and Tav catches the last of Br'ce's speech as she slips from Immath's shoulder. "Where y'want me, chief?"
R'vain, though Ruvoth has started slinking toward some of the 3C riders, lifts a signal salute to V'to as soon as he has a chance to send one the lad's way, then with a slap upside the bronze's thick neck sends his dragon prowling over toward 2C to fill out the ranks there as bid. A laugh escapes the red man, rumbling out over the clearing in a soft, raspy pitch, but he stifles it quickly. His glance toward Tavaly could be missed; there's a lot to see and attend to today.
"Tavaly, I want you and your two companions with the rest of your wing, L'ret, you may assign them as necessary." The litany of assignments is finished, and Br'ce pauses for a moment. "When we finish this 'Fall, you will return individually and directly to your weyrs. We are not here to grandstand or make a scene. Unless you have major injury that requires treatment, or are aiding such a companion, returns forthwith to your weyr." He looks down briefly, seeking some words that are a little less warning-like and a little more inspirational. "We are doing this in defiance of our lawful master. We are defying centuries of tradition, and the repercussions may be more than we can fathom. But we do this not for our own sake, but for others. We are following the oldest tradition of all, and obeying the most basic of the laws that govern us. When Thread falls, dragonmen must fly. That is all." Said curtly, and he follows up his statements with immediately swinging up onto Trellazoth, and strapping himself in, to launch up into the skies, and to Nabol, followed by the rest of the dragons.
DURING
There's not much evidence in the clearing now. Just Vanya sitting over near a couple of trees, some odds and ends around her, mostly what looks to be medical supplies, some water skins, and wine skins she convinced a few of the kitchen helpers to get to her here. Not a lot of everything, but there's one barrel that wasn't there when the riders left. How she managed to get a barrel of numbweed up here, well, that's anyone's guess. But it's there, and ready in case it's needed. The healer herself is sitting under the same tree, eyes scanning the sky.
There's no warning for his arrival, just a sudden swoop of wings over treetops as Uneth wings in from the Weyr and drops to a landing. He has his straps on, but no rider. Instead, T'zen appears not long after, casually strolling along the road. He's not watching the sky. He doesn't need to. Instead, it's the trees he watches, lost in thought.
Vanya is instantly alerted by the sound of those wings, but then realizes he's sans rider. This bothers her for a long moment, and then she understands when T'zen comes strolling up the road. Her lips purse slightly -- this is a lot farther than she's authorized the rider to walk, after all -- but he doesn't seem to be in any distress, and today, she's not going to fuss. "G'day, T'zen," she says when he gets close enough. "Have you ... does Uneth ... know anything about ...?" No need to worry; she's sure T'zen can fill in the blanks.
Uneth alerts T'zen to Vanya's presence before he actually sees her, and so registers no surprise when she talks. Instead, he looks around. "Only us here, then?" He looks over at Uneth, and answers after a moment. "Still goin'. Haven't heard more'n that yet." He closes the distance, not changing the pace of his walk.
The healer in her can't help but observe how he's moving, but, she's not frowning. "Still, yes. I haven't seen or heard anything, so I'm thinking no news is good news in this case." She falls silent, gesturing to where she sits. "Join me, if you want. There's some food and juice. Not a lot, but ... hard to sneak a feast and infirmary out of the weyr." Then, belatedly. "Yes, I'm the ground crew today."
The bluerider chooses to lean against a tree, rather than actually sit. "I'll let them have the food," he says, only now looking up at the sky, though not really searching. "I was in the first one o' these, y'know," he says evenly. "Shard my luck I have to sit out o' this one. And Tav's up there again."
Vanya nods. "I've done the best I can for them, rest assured," she says, obviously wishing she could have done more. "I let a few trusted healers know there might be serious injuries, and brought as much up here as I could. I can take care of minor things, but anything beyond that --" She shrugs. "The waiting's the worst. The not knowing."
"Aye. Waitin' instead of doin'." The statement simply drops. Either he's got his emotions under control, or there aren't any. Uneth sits back on his haunches, looking much like a sentry for the clearing, watching and waiting patiently. His tail tip flicks from side to side. Otherwise the dragon remains still.
Vanya doesn't press for more conversation, perhaps realizing T'zen's thoughts are with his weyrmate and the other riders up there somewhere. She busies herself with braiding some long-stemmed wild flowers into some kind of wreath, nothing important. After a while, she does ask, "How far away is Nabol?" And then, "Do you think there will be trouble over this, T'zen. I mean not just with the Weyrleader, but the Lord Holders?"
"A couple day's hard ride from here," T'zen says with a shrug. His hands find his pockets as he continues his tree lean. "Sure there'll be trouble. But it should be the holders in trouble, not us." He looks up at the branches over his head. "Didn't learn their lesson from last time."
Vanya draws her knees up, wrapping her arms about them. "I asked E'sere about it once, but we got interrupted before he could finish answering." She stops, then, realizing that the wingleader's -- /former/ wingleader, now -- name might not be politic to mention, all things considering. "I wish people would just realize that Thread is everyone's enemy, and not be so ... hidebound and silly over things. So many people will be hurt for the sake of pride."
T'zen's eyes do narrow at Vanya. "So many have already been hurt 'cause o' pride." Whether it's Threadfall or more local events he's referring to, he doesn't say. He moves away from his perch against the tree now, walking a few steps away before pausing, watching Uneth, and then the trees again.
Realizing she's not really able to speak intelligently on this subject, Vanya falls silent, just sitting there. Waiting. The sun warms her back, but there's a chill that creeps down her spine as the minutes and hours stretch on.
Uneth remains as he is, a sentinel over the clearing. His head cocks slightly, but then continues his stillness. T'zen, in the time they wait, makes a slow walk around the clearing, not content to remain still, or seated.
And the hours crawl slowly on.
AFTER
It's the rush of wings that draws Vanya's attention, and she's on her feet in a second. A few other things have been brought to the clearing -- food stuffs and wine skins, though not an over abundance of either. It's mostly fruit and meatrolls, enough for everyone to at least get one or two. Apparently, there's been support from the kitchens. But Vanya's looking for injuries, her eyes scanning dragons and people. She moves to a barrel -- how she got it here is anyone's guess -- but it's there in case it's needed. Numbweed.
Obedient to their leader's wishes, Ruvoth-- unharmed, thanks to Immath's attentions-- blinks out over Nabol, and in over High Reaches Weyr. He alights, and disappears into the weyrling complex, rider still astride.
Uneth has been standing sentinel in the clearing. As the dragons begin to appear, his head perks, and he offers a bugle to some of the dragons that come close enough. T'zen appears out from beneath the trees, on the opposite side of the clearing from Vanya. He starts scanning the sky, face neutral.
Part way through the latter end of the fall, an unmistakably large bronze descends. Dismounting with an unusually slow and careful motion, D'ven heads towards the healer station. The Aces that once adorned his flying jacket are gone, and there's a nasty mark on his shoulder. Four twisted lines where thread has begun to eat at him, before the cold of between bit into it.
It's among the last of the green and blew arrivals that Immath is finally seen. Though her wing beats are tired, she still has the gumption to greet Uneth with a warbling call of triumph. Atop the green, Tav is already loosing her straps before Immath finds a good place away from the 'healing area' to rest. Whoosh. The girl drops from Immath's shoulder, yanking off helmet and goggles and still throwing up a hand in victorious exclamation. She rushes to T'zen, kissing his cheek and giving him a short, "Untouched. Both of us. Gonna see if I can help Vanya." Before she's pelting toward the woman and her little band of rebel healers and asking what she can do to help even before she stands still.
Oshisyth blinks into the skies amidst the haphazard return of several greens, before the bulk of the wings returns from 'fall. They glide down to the ground, visibly tired, but unhurt. The pair lands near where Uneth sits, near Immath, but Issa is slow to dismount, losing gloves and helmet before she even stands in the straps.
N'ka is there with the rest, no injuries, but helping out if he can.
Br'ce leads the rest of the wings, exhausted, back to the mountain clearing. Many have small injuries, but by and large there are relatively few major injuries, given the circumstances. It could have been a great deal worse. Br'ce's face is pale with exhaustion as he slides off his dragon, injured leg nearly buckling under him as he clutches at strap for support. Wanly he looks around, accepting the uninjured Nari's aid to get him over to the aid station. "Those of--" his voice cracks, parched, and he swallows convulsively before trying again. "Those of you who are uninjured may return to your weyrs. Quietly, please." he gives the orders in as loud a voice as he can, given his hoarseness from shouting orders.
Vanya's already loosening the lid to the numbweed, preparing. She has redwort handy, and bandages ready to apply when needed. She's only one person, and the sight of Tavaly heading her way is a welcome sight. "Oh, thank you," she says, grateful to the greenrider, eyes scanning her quickly. "Send any injured this way, most serious first, please," she requests, moving with efficiency, readying herself to do what she can. As if they realize she's handling this by herself, some of the riders are helping others to where she and Tavaly are. The first one she notes in need of attention is Br'ce himself, and Vanya waves him and Nari over. "Wingleader," she says, nodding, and setting to work as soon as he's close enough, grabbing a bowl and dumping cold water into it.
"I could have stayed in it." D'ven mutters as soon as Br'ce passes within earshot, the bronzerider hanging around the aid station with a decidedly sulky air. It's clear he's half-ready to slink off, but the part of him that enjoys having a working arm and not being yelled at by a lot of people is keeping the desire to leave in check.
T'zen doesn't run out to meet Tavaly as she dismounts, but his walk is brisk. The meeting is far too brief and she's off again, but T'zen does relax some. "Good." He continues his walk to Immath, reaching a hand out to the tired green's muzzle. "Hey girl." Uneth croons to Immath, and warbles a welcome to the nearby Oshisyth.
Immath stretches her nose out to the bluerider and rumbles appreciatively, the light greenish whirl to her eyes a pure sign of her smugness. Yea. That's right. Uneth gets a good nuzzle once he's in range and after that, the greenrider folds her neck around and ducks it under one forearm. Quick time for a nap!
"Yes, you could have, D'ven, but we're scheduled to fly over River Bend next. I need you in as good a shape as possible." Br'ce responds wearily. "Besides, I needed you to set a good example, or else everyone with injuries would have stayed in." He seats himself gingerly on the ground, steeling himself for treatment. It's not a major injury, not very deep. "The rest of you, get going. Back home. You can rest there. Good work, people. I'm proud of you. All of you."
And then there's D'ven. The first thing Vanya notices is the jacket, the missing aces. She can't help but wince. "How bad, D'ven?" she asks as she carries the bowl toward Br'ce. To Tavaly, she adds, "Cold water and bowls beside the big box of bandages. Redwort under the white cloth." Not a harsh tone, but informative, quick. And then her attention is back to waiting for Br'ce or D'ven, whichever of them reaches her first. And it's Br'ce, so Vanya examines the injury. "I'll have to cut away the trousers," she warns, pulling a small belt knife from it's sheath after she sets down the bowl of water. "Glad to see you back, sir."
Issa slips down from the straps one-handed, still holding her helmet and gloves, the maneuver surprisingly graceful. Oshisyth, with her rider now safely on the ground, stretches up and gives herself a hearty shake, wings puffing out with the effort, and a quiet whistling greeting is returned to Uneth. Ash drifts down, finding its way onto Issa's shoulders and into her hair, but she cares little for that right now. She's dropped her gear to the ground and is lifting her hair, fingers probing gingerly at a small lance of reddened skin on the back of her neck. Exploratory fingertips come away clean, her quick survey finding so signs of blood, and so she leaves it for now, turning to T'zen with a sigh. "Another one done," she comments idly, a quick smile sent his way before she turns to sweep across those in the healer's area, and then those leaving for home.
"Bad enough." D'ven replies with perhaps more bitterness than he means, before softning slightly. "Sorry." He even manages a small smile. The comment to Br'ce gets an outright laugh. "Actually, scratch that, much better now I know someone is cutting Br'ce's trousers off." So professional, that man.
The muzzle of Immath is caressed by T'zen for the brief moment the green dragon allows. "Thata girl," he says quietly, and moves towards his dragon once the green curls up for her nap. He nods to Issa with a slight smile, and then looks over to where Tavaly is bustling about assisting Vanya. And finally, he reaches Uneth. With a tug on the straps, and a careful glance to make sure nobody's really paying him mind, he works himself up on Uneth's neck, and the pair depart into the sky.
"Just one leg of the trousers should surely be sufficient." Br'ce murmers to Vanya with a wan smile. "A quick bandaging should be sufficient. I have to get back to the weyr and see to the more injured riders that you sent on."
In actuality, Vanya was asking about his arm, but she accepts the bronzerider's answer anyway. Perhaps it's applicable, anyway. "Just one small area of the trousers," she agrees, and sets about her work with quick efficiency. Cut seam, clean wound with cold water and redwort, apply numbweed, and bandage. All accomplished with speed and sure hands. "There. You're done. See me tomorrow if anything changes. "Good job, Wingleader," she adds, getting to her feet. "Who's next?"
A nod, and a remount, gingerly assisted by Nari. "I will see you back at the weyr. Thank you for your assistance, Journeyman. Riders." And he's winging off into the sky, heavy-hearted, to see to the disposition of the unluckier riders.
"I guess that'd be me." D'ven replies, watching as Br'ce goes. "Then I'd better get after him, he shouldn't be doing that on his own." There's a definite disapproval in the bronzerider's tone at being left behind, injured or not.
Issa stands waiting, as Oshisyth stretches out to rest behind her, no sign of the pain of that burn anywhere in her expression. Lips have settled into a quiet line and her tired eyes remain trained on the healer area, focused there even as Br'ce takes himself back to the Weyr. For several long minutes, she lingers there on the edges, the uninjured riders around her taking off, one by one, and scattering back to their homes quietly. Finally, she moves with a slow step toward Vanya, making sure to keep out of Tavaly's path as the younger greenrider bustles past. "Healer?" she intrudes quietly with a mildly apologetic glance to D'ven, "When you've got a minute, I just need some numbweed. Maybe some to take back." A meager smile is offered and the greenrider awaits a response patiently, riding jacket creasing as she crosses her arms in front of her.
"Right," Vanya nods, quickly replacing the water in the bowl, repeating the same things she did with Br'ce. "Just take off the jacket, and I'll take care of that for you." She looks at the ruined Aces, and there's a hint of sadness in her expression. "Your lucky aces," she says softly. "You'll have to get it redone." But, as soon as the jacket is off, she's removing the fabric of his shirt, and washing those trailing lines with cold water and redwort, and slapping numbweed on it. She then reaches behind her and snags a wineskin, thrusting it at him as she turns to Issa. "Small jars of it right beside the blue bag. Take one. Where were you hit and how bad? Be done here in five."
D'ven removes the jacket without complaint, letting Vanya go about her work. "Yes, I'll have to get it redone." He agrees, sounding rather sad. Once things are done, he takes the wineskin with a grateful smile. "Thanks. I'd better get back, make sure Br'ce isn't trying to do too much without me." And then he's heading off towards Teraneth, and back to the weyr.
"Not hit," Issa corrects, absently as she immediately turns to mount a search for the blue bag Vanya speaks of. "Just a minor burn, I think." Her gaze roams over the healer's set up until the slip of blue is found and then she wanders over to it, arms unfolded so she can retrieve one of the small jars. She hefts it as she listens idly to the conversation between Vanya and D'ven, little tosses and catches that create a tiny smacking sound against her palm. With a sideways look, she watches D'ven leave and then turns that wan, tired smile of hers back to Vanya. "This it?" And she holds up the numbweed jar for confirmation.
EPILOGUE
And then there were ... two. Vanya looks around the clearing, and blinks. Such a long wait, and then the rush, and then ... peace. Over. Done. Complete. She turns, making certain the greenrider has found the small jars of numbweed, and moves in her direction. "That's it," she says, her voice a little drained now that the excitement is over. "Glad you weren't worse injured." Then she looks around at the scattered supplies and what's left of the food and wineskins. A sigh. "Better do as the wingleader says, m'am. Nothing left to do here but clean up and then walk back to the weyr."
Issa peers down at the jar again, the fingers of her right hand gently travelling back behind her hair to find the burn again. A wince overtakes her expression quickly, fleetingly, and that hand falls away. "I'm glad, too," the greenrider says, amusement tickling her tone as she offers a more sure smile. As Vanya looks around, Issa also investigates the remains. Particularly those leftover wineskins. With her right hand, she sneaks one of them, full and unstoppered and so conveniently located on that nearby table, closer to her. "Do you mind if I... take this back with me?" An eyebrow raises as she poses the question. "I think it'd make a nice addition to the numbweed."
"That's why it's here --" Vanya stops. "I don't know your name, but I've seen you about the weyr. I'm Vanya," she offers, smiling. "Would you like me to take a quick look? I don't mind." She glances down at the ground, bending at the knees to pick up a stray bandage, and the now empty bowl. "Chena will be by to get this stuff back to the weyr. It was our agreement." Why she's explaining, she doesn't really know. "I'm taking her shifts over the next few weeks for her help in this."
"Issa," the greenrider offers just after the healer's introduction, then, with a gesture of the sloshing wineskin toward the listless green just a little ways off, "Oshisyth's." Pale blue eyes flick to the woman's face quickly, memorizing, before they drop to the mess that she begins to straighten. "That's good of you. Bit of a risk." It's light conversation and treated as such, her tone unabashedly simple and weary. "Um. If... Could you just check and make sure it's not worse than I think? Can't really see it," she explains, switching the wineskin to dangle by the neck in the same hand as the little jar so that she can lift the curtain of curls up and away to reveal the injury-- a thin strip of redness along the back right side of her neck, no blistering, just a deep red puffiness.
Vanya doesn't mind, and moves to a position where she can see better. "It's not bad. No blood, just redness. Here, let me clean it off and I'll put some numbweed on it for you. It'll probably bee painful for a couple of days, but it'll heal fine, not even a scar probably." She moves to get a waterskin, a cloth and doesn't even need redwort since the skin isn't broken. It's cleaned quickly dried and she holds out her hand for the jar. "It's not bad at all. You're very lucky." As for the rest? "Chena's good people. One of her sons was up there with you today. I don't know his name, I'm sorry. He's a brown rider in one of the wings. Don't know which, though."
"Good," Issa offers with weary relief for Vanya's diagnosis. There's a smell of firestone ash emanating from her, clinging to her hair and riding jacket and mixing in with the odor sweat from the 'fall, just beginning to sour. That little jar is relinquished readily when asked for, plopped down into the outstretched hand as she attempts to keep her head as still as possible for the woman. The motion causes a single wavy curl to drift down, though, from the bundle that Issa holds out of the way and it falls inconveniently down across Vanya's working area. "Chena." The greenrider repeats the name, thoughtfully drawing it out. "Sounds familiar. I think my mother might know her."
"Older lady, dark reddish-brown hair, blue eyes," Vanya offers a short description. "She's not Healer Hall trained, but helps in the Infirmary, mostly. She's got two boys, one about 20 who's at one of the holds nearby. I'm sorry, I can't tell you more. She was, apparently, weyrmated to a rider killed a few turns ago during a bad 'fall. So, she started working with the healers, trying to help out. I know she does other work, but I'm not sure what. She evidently heard what was going on, and offered to help. She's the one to thank for the food."
Issa begins to nod, but then catches the unconscious gesture and offers a quiet, "I see," instead. When the application of the numbweed is done, she gently lowers her curls back down over the burn and pivots to regard the healer once again. "My thanks, then," she says, raising the wineskin she still holds tightly, "to both of you." Her grin quirks, then falls. "I should get back. Before they start to wonder. Did you want a ride?" Casually, she holds her free right hand out, palm up, for the return of the numbweed.
Vanya looks around, feeling guilty for leaving everything to Chena but, nods as she steps from behind Issa. "If you don't mind waiting a few minutes?" she says. "I just need to gather things up, and close the barrel. If you could give me time to do that?" The Healer begins to do just that, making certain it's not going to be contaminated while it waits for pick up. The bits of bread she tosses toward the underbrush, left for small creatures to feast upon. The fruit, however, she gathers into a bag, and one of the wineskins. "I think that's all. If your Oshisyth doesn't mind a tired healer, I'd be grateful for a lift back. I'm almost afraid of what's waiting there."
Issa does nod this time, now that she has free range of her head back, a definitive indication that the healer should do what's needed. The greenrider watches silently as the tasks are completed, eyes following Vanya without there being any sort of effort behind the gaze. "Least we can do," she responds then, straightening and flashing a reassuring smile at the healer. "More work for the weary, no doubt," she speculates idly as she turns and begins to wander toward her dragon. Oshisyth lifts herself heavily from her flopped position, giving another little shake before she settles down into a waiting crouch. "Come on," Issa then says, gesturing with a tilt of her head for the healer to follow.
And Vanya follows, sighing softly, a smile on her lips as she approaches the green. "My thanks to you both," she says, nodding to the obviously weary rider and dragon. "A good day's work for everyone, and if there's punishment, I'll gladly take my share. I was as willing a participant as you all." She waits to mount after Issa, quickly arranging the straps, securing them. "Whenever you're ready, Issa, Oshisyth. Let's go home."