Lessons Learned, Part II

[k_sar]

WHO: K'sar, Tavaly, Roa, Essdara, Aelan, Neiran, M'eri, Kierom, Dananth, Tialith & Immath
WHEN: Day after Turn's End
WHERE: Infirmary, HRW

Note: This log covers two or three different 'scenes' but they were interlaced so tightly that I didn't feel right in splitting them up. Much of what happens with K'sar is helping in changing the character from what he was before I paused for RL move/job foo - to what he has become in the interim. Thank you to everyone who has helped in this transition.



K'sar grunts softly but doesn't speak beyond. "Ratfink dragon." About then, an apprentice returns with soft linen sleeping pants and a soft tunic, much more comfortable than the velvet and silk and stiff leather finery he has been wearing. Rolling the dragonrider over, the apprentice frowns as the shirt and vest comes off and he can see the man is covered from shoulders to hips in dark black and purple bruises where the contents of the shelves landed on him. That, right there, probably answers your question. Confirmation comes when the rider is slathered with numbweed before the shirt is pulled on and he is settled gently back in the bed and you can see the glint of unfamiliar moisture in the dark lashes and white lines around his mouth.

"Oh, K'sar..." the words are, what? A sigh, a scolding, a sympathetic murmur, a horrified commentary. The tone seems to hold a bit of each as the little goldrider reaches out to oh-so-gently brush the wetness away from his lashes with her thumb. "What was the purpose of that? Why not ask for help? Why must you always either...either demand or bottle your thoughts inside?"

K'sar's voice is thick as he whispers. "I went to help you. What kind of 'hero' ends up not only failing in keeping you safe, but also getting taken down by not one, but /two/ shelves of Stores supplies? I think there were traps or something there. I know that those shelves should not have fallen like that." No, he wasn't awake when the guards announced that the room was booby trapped. "I ended up being more of a liability than a help. That's not...what people look for in a leader."

Roa shhhs gently. She would, perhaps, touch his hair except that with all the bandaging, it seems to much of a risk. So fingers lightly brush K'sar's cheek instead. "The room was one big trap. If it makes you feel any better, one of the shelves landed on Jensen as well. In fact I think the people who *didn't* get injured are in the minority. It's not about failing, Kess," the name she used to call him when she was little. It sounded 'softer than 'Sar did' she used to insist. "It's about scrambling back up again once you do. It's about surrounding yourself with those who you trust to guide you true when you're weak instead of hiding that weakness and fumbling along by yourself. You cannot base the wellbeing of a weyr on your own sense of pride."

"It's not pride, Ro. It's ability. I know I can do this. I know that B'ren and some of the other riders would back me. And...I know that I've got the skills and training for it. There are things that just /should/ be done so people are safe, and so we don't lose another wing like we did with 3C." He reaches up and claims your hand at his cheek, drawing it close for a soft kiss. "I wish you were Reachian, Roa. You have the skills and heart to be a wonderful weyrwoman - and I can't say that Yevide or Diya have anything but power and their own desires in mind - not the good of all."
"I...well, I'm not. I'm Telgari," it's said perhaps as if to remind herself as much as K'sar. "And I wouldn't write Diya off so quickly. I think she'd make a--" Roa's hand on K'sar's cheek stills. Very carefully and with a sort of forced lightness Roa queries, "Yevide?"

K'sar says, "Isn't she a new transfer or something? The way she was all over G'thon yesterday, I would've thought she was keeping his bed warm and angling for the new position."

"She and G'thon are close, yes. But there hasn't been any mention of a transfer." She sounds uncertain as she speaks, and her lower lip gets nibbled on, brows drawing downward. "Have you heard something different?"

K'sar shakes his head, frowning. "I...don't know. Pieces of things I've heard now have me wondering." He falls silent, likely annoyingly so. "She's...Igen, yes? It wouldn't make sense then..." Another pause and he starts to shrug, wincing at the pain. "Ah, well. Maybe it's just my scrambled head, making connections where none are."

"What does being Igen have to do with it?" is the next question Roa asks. And then, to his comment about addled heads she only says softly, "Perhaps..."

"Idle question. Would you transfer here if you had the choice?" K'sar asks after a few minutes, fingers seeking out yours to hold lightly. "And...Roa? would you maybe help me remember that a good leader doesn't have to be...invincible? Just...aware?"

Roa keeps her chin lifted, her gaze centered on the opposite wall and it seems s if the little goldrider is not going to give an answer to that first question. But then her chin dips down and bobs up. A single nod. The second question, that evokes a soft smile and the return of Roa's focus onto K'sar. "Yes," she says quietly. "That much I promise to do."

K'sar draws your fingers up to brush a kiss over them and he sinks back, breath catching at the flare of pain moving causes him. "Thank you." And, maybe, just maybe, the two have begun something here that historians will make note of in the future.

Roa keeps her hand limp in his hold, either pulling away nor encouraging those kisses. Her own ettention as moved away again. Somewhere else deep in her own thoughts.

Essdara enters through the tunnel that leads from the bowl.
Aelan enters through the tunnel that leads from the bowl.

K'sar dozes lightly, fingers still holding Roa's. He is dressed in soft clothes, a bandage around his head and his hair spiky from some of the dried blood that remains even after a wipe or two. A bandage also wraps one hand.

Essdara and Aelan come in from the bowl, the young cook giving a shiver as she passes into the much warmer infirmiry. She moves through the room, neck craning around to find the patient she wants, and eventually does. She moves towards Roa, and can't help a slight smile at the bronzerider holding her hand. "Now, there's something I wouldn't have seen coming." She comments quietly to Aelan. Looking back, though, the smile fades when she notices the bandage on K'sar. "Oh. That explains a lot." She mutters.

Aelan follows Dara in, apparently comfortable with the infirmary air as she looks around until she follows the other firl's gaze to the pair in the beds. "I'm guessing Roa's not the sleeping one," she murmurs, smile flickering for just a moment before she falls behind half a step, trying to look respectable.

Essdara grins over her shoulder to Aelan. "No, that's K'sar. That was his bronze earlier. He's an odd one, but is a lot of fun in the right circumstances." She looks back, and quietly moves to Roa's bedside. "Not sure she's any more awake than he is, though. Did I mention the kind of luck I have?"

Roa is awake? Yes. But she seems quite lost in thought, and though her hand rests in K'sar's, her focus seems to be off on a wall somewhere. A smaller bandage covered her left temple and her left leg is bandaged, splinted, and elevated, bare toes peeping out from the wrapping. She's in her casual clothing, hair up in her usual knot, so things seem to be, perhaps, well enough. Nearby sits an inkwell and quill with a single hide with much writing and just as much crossing out. On the dragon side of the infirmary, on a couch not currently being used by an injured dragon, dozes Tialith.

At the sound of a familiar voice, Roa blinks slowly and, returning to the here and now, looks over towards the arrivals. A grin speads across her afce. "Dara," she says. "Look, you see? For once you're not the one injuring yourself." And then a nod to the other woman and a soft, "Hello."

"Hey," Aelan flickers a small smile in Roa's direction before catching herself, clearing her throat and trying something just a /little/ more formal. "Aelan," she offers in a vague introduction, gaze skimming over the splint as she points to it. "Those hurt, huh?" she mumbles.

Essdara chuckles softly. "It's a rare turn of events, but let's not make a habit of it, ok? I'm expendable, you're not." She glances to Aelan, who beats her to introductions. She looks back to Roa with a teasing smile. "Aelan's new here, but is very nice. Even if she, like you, fails to properly be able to accept my affections." Her smiles fades a little. "Roa, you are ok, right? I've not heard anything but rather confusing rumors. What /happened/ to you?"

K'sar hears voices and stirs slightly, fingers tightening on Roa's before he opens his eyes and murmurs. "She had to rescue her heroes." A quirk of a smile and he releases Roa's hand, tugging on his blankets a little more. "Hello, Dara...Aelan."

Essdara's self-depricating comment only summons a snort from the goldrider. "I think T'zen would heartily disagree. You make far better meatrolls than I do." To Aelan, a name is offered for a name and she simply says, "I'm Roa. Well met, Aelan." Toes wiggle, but that hurts, so they stop. "It hurt when they were putting it on," she admits. "Now it's just sort of itchy. What happened? Well. Shelves. Fell." And her hand pulls free from K'sar's so that both can pantamine the mighty descent of the villianous storage shelves. "On me. My leg, anyhow."

"That /really/ hurts," Aelan commiserates with a wince at Roa's leg. K'sar gets a brief, curious glance before she takes another step back out of the circle and behind Dara, crossing her arms loosely over her chest and watching the others closely as she tries to get her bearings.

K'sar stays quiet for the moment, looking at the visitors before glancing over at Roa. They're /her/ visitors, so he's going to just listen unless spoken to.

Essdara snorts, softly. "Shelves fell?" She repeats, in amusement. "if you say so. Glad you are ok, though. You looked pretty bad when Ashwin took you out to see Tialith. Never seen a dragon try to burrow into the caverns before, she was really upset." She looks over at K'sar. "So, I guess the shelves, then, are why you didn't come back? You're ok, too, K'sar? I know we haven't talked much lately, but I would be sad to lose you."

Roa seems, at least at this point, to not be saying much more about the shelves. As Tialith's escapades are mentioned, however, the Telgari's head lowers into her hands with a groan. "I cannot believe she did that," is moaned into her palms. "I'll never live it down. Not ever." And once upon a time, going into the kitchens with her knot on was her 'Big Embarassment'. Peeping up from her hands, she has at least enough courtesy to make introductions. "Aelan, have you met K'sar? He's a rider here at Reaches, though formerly of Telgar. That's how I knew him."

"The Stores room was rigged with traps." K'sar replies quietly. "One set fell, then a second set that I caught with my back and head." A wry smile and he looks over at Roa. "She used to tell Dananth stories while helping us scrub him. I knew her back when she had freckles and no..." He catches Roa's eye and edits his comment "...no Gold of her own." Yeah, that's what he was going to say. Yep.

"Ah, no, don't think we've met," Aelan says, though she doesn't really step forward, instead raising a hand in brief greeting. "Aelan," she offers again. "Keroon." And then K'sar's description sets in, drawing her attention back with a quirk of her brow and another of those inappropriate sparks of interest. "So it wasn't an accident?"

"Accidents," Essdara comments, "Rarely take the best of the guards away from a gather." She smiles a little, "Don't worry, Roa, most people were gone by the time she tried to come in, and those of us left were just utterly lost on what to /do/ about it. Don't think many there would spead the rumor." She smiles a little bit. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to talk to, or dance, with, either of you though. Didn't even notice Roa was gone until the rumors started. It was a lovely gather, other than this stuff."

At K'sar's comment the look on Roa's face as she regards the other two women is one of those eyes-half-shut, brows lowered, half-smirk deals. This one simply screaming 'Bronzeriders. Sheesh.' But then her expression becomes more somber. "It wasn't an accident," Roa agrees, her voice lowering. "But I'm not sure what ought to be public knowledge and what the Captain wants kept private for now. Perhaps, if you want to know more details, it's better if you speak to him?" A rather pointed glance shot K'sar's way. "Everyone's all right though." Well, everyone who isn't a drudge killer, anyhow.

"I still owe you a dance, Dara. Unfortunately, it will be a while before I can dance again. Right now, sitting up is less than pleasant." K'sar offers wryly before glancing at Aelan again. "I remember you from last night. You wore that pretty yellow dress and looked like you were really having fun with Dara."
K'sar lets the 'accident or not' pass - shelf? what shelf?

"The yellow dress looks like it belong on the dessert table, but thanks," Aelan says with a wry smirk, though she looks between K'sar and Roa with a considering, narrowed gaze. "Captain of the guards," she echoes thoughtfully, and she can't quite hide a scheming look as she crosses her arms loosely over her chest again. "So how long are they telling you you'll be out with the leg?" she asks Roa with a small, sympathetic smile.

Essdara smiles to K'sar. "I'll hold you to that, K'sar, when you are better. If you ask nicely, maybe I'll even make myself look nice again. I admit it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as I expected it to be." She glances at Aelan, "And yeah, we had a good deal of fun." She looks back to Roa as Aelan asks the question, nodding a bit. "That's a good question. I hope you're not going to be stuck here long?"

Roa peers down at her suspected foot. "I'm told, so long as I'm not feeling dizzy, I can leave the Infirmary tomorrow. The splint and wrappings however..." a small sigh. "Those stay on for a month. And no riding. I wouldn't mind the first, if it wasn't for the no riding bit." To Aelan, she asks curiously, "You seem to be a bit knowledgable about these sorts of breaks? Have you hurt your leg before?"

K'sar looks over at Tialith. "With Tia in here, Roa should be fine. Dananth, however, hates the infirmary and will freeze his hide off outside rather than come in." He looks over at Roa and smirks. "I've not even spoken to a Healer yet. Just apprentices."

"Each one, actually," Aelan flashes a swift grin at Roa. "Right one falling off a runner, left one cliff-climbing. Got my arm that time, too," she adds cheerfully, then pauses, smile slipping ruefully crooked. "That one was /really/ hard to explain to my father. Uncle told him I was spending some time at Igen to make diplomatic ties."

Essdara chuckles. "I saw him earlier, K'sar. He looks very lonely and sad. I think he was trying to tell me you were in here, too, but I was rather distracted at the time." Back to Roa. "That's good, at least. Sounds like this will all blow over pretty quickly, then. Is Ashwin ok? I couldn't tell who's blood was on him last night."

"Maybe you could talk Dananth into going into the baths where it's warmer for a bit?" K'sar asks Essdara. "Please? He..." The rider tries to sit up in his effort to talk and suddenly stops talking, whimpering once and slowly lying back. "Um..he..." he takes a slow breath. "...he needs to get warm. And eat." Wow - tanned to grey in under 2 seconds!

"K'sar," Roa warns, "I'm not above requesting you get strapped down. I'll ask Tia to get Dananth someplace warm. And Tavaly's Immath will likely help too." Then Aelan is stared at. "At Igen for..." a small laugh, "I guess negotiations didn't go as well as had been hoped? Shells..an arm *and* a leg. I can't even imagine..." and then, to Dara, "as far as I could tell, none for the blood was Ashwin's. Some of it might have been mine." The rest? No comment.

"Oh, no, Arinya was great," Aelan grins broadly, and there's more than a touch of hero worship in that expression. "But, uh, y'know. Visit of that length, the excuse was wearing thin by the time everything healed up." Sheepishly, she reaches up to fluff her hair away from her face, a futile effort as she casts a sidelong glance towards the greying K'sar. "Goes quicker if you don't reinjure yourself, though," she offers helpfully.

Essdara doesn't ask; she's learning, apparently. "K'sar, I doubt he'd listen to me if he won't listen to you. Probably only asked for attention in the bowl cause he remembers me, anyway." She looks over to Aelan, and shakes her head with a grin. "You really did get into some interesting bits of trouble, didn't you, Aelan? I feel so boring, having left the weyr all of twice ever, and one of those only a few days ago! It's good that Ashwin's ok, at least. Though a sad day when a goldrider gets injured and the guards walk away intact."

K'sar wheezes softly, trying for humor. "Roa..you want me tied to a bed, all you have to do is ask." He closes his eyes and wets his lips, grimacing as his back settles in the bed again. "Tavaly could get him to go, yeah." A look at Aelan again and mms. "I don't want to reinjure, I just forget how much /is/ injured."

Roa listens quietly, brows lifted as Aelan's story unfolds. "I had heard Igen's Weyrwoman was somewhat...unorthodox. I hadn't realized she was quite that much so." Her voice is not disapproving. Essdara is offered a faint smile and no more answers. To K'sar she says, "I'll send Tialith now, but only if you promise to *lie* *still*."

"Hey, I'm not enrolled in endless hours of etiquette courses because I spent all my time on embroidery," Aelan tosses back to Dara with a rueful grin, moving to perch carefully on the end of Roa's bed as she looks over at K'sar. "Too much numbweed, I bet," she tells him cheerfully. "Makes you forget how much it hurts until you do it, then it's too late."

Essdara shakes her head, grinning. "I always find the most interesting friends." She looks back to the prone pair. "Anyway, I should probably let you two rest. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were and say hi and stuff. Glad I did, if only to know my favourite bronzerider was /also/ hurt." She makes a face. "I still say that's too far to go to avoid a dance, though."

K'sar mmhmms to Aelan. "They coated my back with it. Feel like I got beat with my foster-mother's old rug-beating stick." He makes a face at Essdara. "I would've rather danced than been squished under pots and sacks, thanks."

Roa settles back into her own pillows. "I am a little tired," she admits. "And I still need to finish this letter." A disdainful nudge of her fingers agnst the scribbled-on hide. From the looks of it, she needs to *start* the letter.

Aelan hops up from the foot of Roa's bed as people start looking tired and Dara makes to depart. "And we should probably let you two be before the healers come to chase us out," she admits, brushing her hands off on her thighs. "Nice to meet you both, though. Hope you start feeling better soon."

Essdara grins a bit. "I'll try to stop back later, maybe bring you guys something nice to eat to help you get better faster?" She moves away from the pair, offering a last wave. "Good luck with the letter, and with tying down Kissy there."

K'sar waves a little and makes a face at Essdara. "I'm sure you'd love to help, Essie..." he teases back, but he does sound tired and as the two wander off, he closes his eyes. "So the 'trap' part is a secret? What else should I not talk about?"

Roa lifts her hand n a wave. "I wouldn't say no to something you've baked, Dara," she agrees with a laugh. As they depart, Roa says to K'sar, "i don't know. I'm not sure what's supposed to be a secret, so it seems safest not to say much beyond what's necessary."

Aelan waves once over her shoulder, then starts out of the infirmary, whistling cheerfully.
Essdara exits through the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.

K'sar murmurs softly "I don't know everything. I was out for most of it. What else happened?" He turns to look at you, the numbweed wearing off, if the sheen in his eyes is any clue.

"I...hmm," Roa's eyes are closing. "More falling things. Ashwin killed the man who'd been watching me," whatever that means, "and then Tia threw her little fit and I was taken here." One eye cracks open. "Hurting again?"

"Yeah. It's okay though, I won't move so much." K'sar murmurs. "Sleep, Roa. I'll watch over you." He reaches out again to find your hand - maybe the comfort is for you - maybe for himself.
Roa chuckles softly and lets herself relax, hand curling slightly in K'sar's palm. Her breathing soon becomes as steady and regular and the sleeping gold behind her.

K'sar does too - watch you, that is. And while watching you, a few things change - like his feelings, and his understanding - and his vow to make things better. "If Yevide can make a bit for weyrwoman...then you, my little Roa, can too."

K'sar lies in his bed, a little cleaner, but not much. Roa is asleep in the next bed over and the two seem to be holding hands, the bronzerider's attention on the little Telgari. His eyes are glazed with the returning pain and he's not taking anything resembling deep breaths - nor is he fidgeting. And no - he's not eaten anything all day - just some juice. The klah he tried earlier, came right back up the minute he sat up.

Surely K'sar and Roa have waited long enough for some attention to be paid to them. After concluding an argument with another healer thinly veiled under the guise of a discussion, Neiran makes a vauge gesture and turns away. It is to the bedside of bronze and goldrider he strides, coming into K'sar's field of view moments later. He's still wearing his black cassock, and the dark of it only throws the paleness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes into sharper relief. The spectre is benevolent, however, revealing his intention to aid when he asks, "how are you feeling?"

K'sar glances up at the healer and murmurs. "The truth or what's polite?" he replies, the banter doing little to hide the pain. "She's doing much better. I'm trying to pretend I'm doing better."

Neiran raises a brow, unamused by K'sar's jest. "The truth, framed politely," he replies. "If you cannot muster politeness, simply tell me anything and everything that will allow me to aid you." He looks to the goldrider, looking over her prone form with clinical detachment. "I am aware of the goldrider's condition, as I oversaw the initial stage of her treatment. You, however..." As if able to sense the coordinates of it, his gaze alights on a nearby clipboard with a summary report of K'sar's condition on it. He picks it up, and needs but an instant to read it over, then turning his attention to K'sar, his raised brow implying that he'd like a verbal report.

"The comment was in relation to the fact that Roa was chiding me for not saying when I hurt." K'sar grumbles softly. "My head is pounding, my eyes ache, and my back and legs feel like I've been beaten with a rug-cleaning stick. Lifting my head up enough to drink water makes me want to throw up."

"You're due for another application of numbweed, and a tea that will help you rest. Nausea is often associated with concussions, but certain herbs can help to counteract that. You needn't sit up. Healers know how to deliver fluids without requiring a bedridden patient to sit up." Neiran lifts his head, then, looking for any nearby apprentices or aides he might glare at pointedly, for having made K'sar needlessly sit up earlier. There is no one idle right now, and so his look of ire falls on general air before the sleepless Journeyman looks down at K'sar again.

"Alright. How long am I going to be in here?" K'sar asks, then wets his lips and adds "Will the numbweed wear off on my legs soon? I didn't even feel them put it on there earlier." He's actually not a horrible patient - pleasant and polite and not demanding. Probably not demanding enough, really.

K'sar is talking to Nieran (his pose) and Roa is asleep in the next bed over.
"Patients who have sustained head injuries are generally kept under monitoring for a few days. I would suppose a minimum of another night," Neiran replies. His replies are professional, exact, unfriendly, his dark eyes in their shadowed hollows looking intermittently at another place in his mind even while looking at K'sar's face. "If the numbweed was applied at the same time, it should be wearing off now." A frown fleets over his aquiline features, and he reaches out to gently squeeze K'sar's calf, eyes on his face for a reaction.

Stretching her arms, a mug of hot klah in hand. Tav returns to the infirmary, devoid of ruined Turn's End finest and once more in the comfortable clothes of a rider. "OH, you're awake! Evenin', Neiran." Tav greets, finding her stool again.

K'sar turns to greet Tavaly. "Hello, Tavvy." A hand is offered to her before he looks back at Neiran. "I can't feel anything from about my hips, on down. Except my back - it hurts. Deep breaths hurt." He's not really able to /read/ Neiran. Is he just cursed with crappy bedside manner, or is there something K'sar should be worried about? And no - there is no reaction to the squeezing of his leg.

Tavaly's cheerful greeting elicits only a frown from the pale Journeyman. "Good day," he replies in a dry tone which suggests the day is anything but. He squeezes K'sar's calf another time for good measure, and does well to keep any expression of concern from his face. It's possible that Neiran's facial muscles are now simply too tired to be bothered. "Please lift your leg for me."
"What crawled in your brekkers and dropped a load?" The greenrider asks of Neiran, even going so far as to emit a feline hiss. Frown at her, will you. Psh.

"Tav.." K'sar grumbles, then turns back to Neiran. His jaw clenches as he tries to do as bidden, frowning as the leg doesn't even move. He pushes up to his elbows and swallows a whimper of pain from his head as he focuses on his legs, trying to move either of them. "Did you give me something to relax my muscles or something? Is this from the numbweed? Why won't they move?"

Neiran keeps his back to Tavaly, busy watching his patient. He heard her, of course, but doesn't deign to reply. K'sar expressed his disdain for him with that grumble, in any case. The Journeyman watches K'sar's struggle to elevate a leg, and reacts quickly when the man tries to sit up - a hand with splayed fingers hovers in front of the bronzerider's chest, just short of actually touching, implying he should lay back unless he wants to be gently pushed to the pillows. "I haven't given you anything, and the sheet doesn't make mention of it. You needn't be immediately concerned," he says swiftly. "It is likely a nerve is pinched." He reaches for the man's chart and, perhaps ominously, begins writing on it.

Tavaly merely hushes now, slurping rudely at her klah and perching on her stool with concern. However, now's not the time for questions. Belch.

K'sar stops trying to sit up further until Neiran starts writing, then he starts to breathe fast through his nose, short shallow breaths as he struggles to sit up, hands now pressing into the bed above his hips to get upright enough to lift his butt off the bed and see if he can force his legs to move. Yep - panic is slowly starting to set in and his focus is wholly on making his rebellious legs behave.

"Don't do that. Lay still. If there is something wrong with you, you might only make it worse by moving," Neiran warns gravely, no room in his tone for skirting the truth or lightening the blow of warning. "I will administer a sedative if you are not compliant, bronzerider." Miraculously, enough softness is mustered into his voice then to save him from sounding entirely brusque. He hasn't set down the chart or the writing utensil, yet, paused in the act of writing, his next movement to decided by K'sar's response.

Stilling, K'sar doesn't look up, he just starts to sink back onto the bed, closing his eyes. "Find out?" he asks...commands...begs. "Find out what it is, please? I...need to know." His voice cracks on the last word and he falls silent once more.

"Don't worry. If anyone can find it, it'll be Neiran here. You're in good hands. Now shuddup an' let the good healer do his business. Why don'tcha tell me 'bout the party on the ground in the mean time. The good parts. Eat anything with more than four legs?" Tav asks, stepping over and sitting on the edge of K'ser's bed.

K'sar is on his bed, Neiran standing nearby, Tavaly sitting on the edge of the bed and Roa sleeping in the next one down.

Neiran lifts a brow faintly at Tavaly as unexpected accolades come from her quarter. Inexplicably, he leaves the bedside without a word to his intentions, leaving K'sar with Tavaly as a distraction. He isn't gone long, however, having fetched a particular tea from the infirmary's arsenal, and deposited the satchel of herbs into a teapot of hot water. Both a mug and a waterskin with a long mouth tube are brought along, in preparation for K'sar's eventual drink. He's enlisted the help of an aide, who follows him with a tray of essentials; redwort, numbweed, the like.

K'sar looks confused at Tavaly's questions. "What? Um..no. I didn't eat much at the party. Body was still on...um...other time. I...was travelling a lot." He watches Neiran head away and come back, then looks back to Tavvy. "I can still fly. I'll just get better straps. I won't /not/ fly..."

Tavaly nods her head, petting K'sar's hair a moment. "Of course you're still gonna fly, idjit. We'll just call you floppy legs as they're waving in the breeze down the sides of Dananth's neck." She says, trying to lighten the mood. However, her antics are cut short by a sharp jerk of the head and a wince. "Shard it. Immath got something furry and snarling stuck between her toes again. I'll be back." She gives K'sar a quick kiss on the forehead and disappears.

"Would you prefer to remain laying down and for me to give you your tea, or shall I prop you up on your pillows?" Neiran asks quietly, not batting a lash at Tavaly's departure. It's less noise for him to deal with, and less chance for him to be drawn out into a conversation when he most assuredly isn't in the mood. "You need to remain calm," Neiran reminds K'sar, his soporific voice a balm against panic. "You will remain here, and be treated to the utmost. It is likely temporary."

"I...please prop me up?" K'sar asks softly, fingers fisting in the bedding, bandaged hand ignored - the pain likely helping him stay focused. "Can you put more...numbweed on my back first?" A glance up at the healer and he whispers "How do we find out what it is?"

Rysia slips in, much the way she slipped out, the last time she was here. Very quietly, and with little fanfare. Of course, the finery of the evening is gone, replaced with her usual wear, and given the information a quick glance gives her, she remains silent, and over by the entrance.

Neiran stoops to remove pillows from the lower portion of the cart, but pauses when K'sar requests more numbweed on his back first. "Yes," the Journeyman replies, moving to draw down the cot's top sheet. "You'll need to turn to your side, or your front, whichever you prefer. I will facilitate the adjustment," he advises K'sar, ready to hold the bronzerider steady as he turns, so there'll be no jarring motions. "We'll find out what it is by patient observation, and perhaps some tests." Rysia, of course, is unnoticed.

K'sar takes the offered help and slowly rolls to his side, using his hands to pull himself over, his legs twisting as they don't move. The soft shirt, when lifted, reveals a purple-black mass from the base of his neck down past the waistband of his sleep pants. Not one inch of his back is unbruised. (See? Don't catch a shelf of Stores gear with your back!) His gaze catches the form of Rysia at the door and K'sar closes his eyes and hides his face in the mattress, shame written large on his features.

Rysia lurks near the entrance leading to the living cavern, attention caught by the actions of Neiran and K'sar. Silence is the key for the moment, a brief look of puzzlement appearing at the rider's actions.

Neiran sees K'sar's gaze dart to the entrance, and the man's expression morph into shame immediately afterwards. Neiran looks up from the bruised vista of the rider's back, a glance cast over his shoulder. He takes one step to the left, blocking Rysia's view of K'sar's back more efficiently. "While I am doing this," he goes on, as if uninterrupted, "please tell me how your legs feel. Can you feel the weight of them, or does it feel as if they are not there? Are they tingling at all? Please be as descriptive as you can." The coolness of numbweed applied by a brush follows the Journeyman's inquiry, as he begins spreading the salve, his darkly circled eyes falling to half mast while he works, and listens.

"Numb. I know they're there, but...it's like they're asleep and I can't make them listen to my commands to move." K'sar murmurs softly. "My feet feel cold, but I don't know if they are cold or if it is an illusion." He relaxes as the numbweed begins to ease the pain of his back, shoulders slowly settling a little more into a slouch towards the mattress.

It is probably just as well Rysia is blocked from view, as she hears the exchange of words. This is, however, what one gets when one runs away. Unfortunate news the next visit. One hand lifts up to settle over her mouth, just under her nose.

The brush continues to spread its blissfully numbing salve, the bristles ensuring a thin layer evenly coats the warren of bruises on the bronzerider's back. Soon enough, he's pulling the night shirt down over the numbed area, a small touch on K'sar's shoulder signalling his completion. "Turn on your back, and I shall prop you up so you can drink your tea while I examine your legs."

K'sar uses his arms to turn himself back over and works with Neiran to get propped up enough to not dribble down his front and complete the 'useless lump' image. "Rysia...could you help me with the tea?" Yes, he knows she's still there and yes, he's not going to ignore what she's heard. He watches Neiran, to see what he does with the now-twisted lumps of legs. He can't shift them back to flat on the bed.

Rysia pauses for a moment, hand dropped back to her side, and makes her way forward, "I don't want to be interruptin' the healer?"

"If K'sar wishes you to help him drink his tea, then I will allow it." It's a small concession to comfort and the need for human contact, but a concession nonetheless. A deadpan glance from Neiran's dark eyes suggests that if Rysia should annoy or somehow fail in her simple task, she can just as readily be told to leave. The Journeyman moves to K'sar's lower limbs, lifting them and rearranging them naturally again. He begins to squeeze the muscles, as well, testing for any twitches of reply as he works his way from kneecap to ankle.

K'sar murmurs a soft thank you to the healer and reaches for Rysia's hand, squeezing it almost too tightly as he watches Neiran move his legs for him. He finally looks away and murmurs "I'm sorry, lovely."

"Thankye, sir..." Rysia responds, within easy grasping range when it comes to hands. She stays next to the bed, and watches Neiran do his thing for a moment, before glancing over, "For having several large heavy things fall on you? Unless rumour is totally out of straights, that was not your doing."

Neiran silently continues to squeeze, absently noting for Rysia's benefit, "the tea is steeping in that pot on the cart behind you. There is a mug there." If it weren't evident. "K'sar, tell me what kind of sensation you are experiencing," he asks, demanding attention before the two engage in further banter.

K'sar releases Rysia's hand while she tends to tea and focuses on answering Neiran. "Pressure. I can feel tingling and pressure, but it's like a tight hug, not a finger poking, if that makes sense? It's an...all around pressure, not a localized one."

Rysia nods at Neiran, and turns to the tea, locating the mug first, then looking in the teapot, waiting a moment or two, before going about pouring the mug mostly full, blowing over the top a bit, before offering it silently to the rider.

"I see." Neiran doesn't sound particularly disappointed or encouraged by K'sar's report. He does, however, cease his squeezing. "As I said before, you will be kept under surveillance in the infirmary for at least one day more, likely two." He extends a pale hand, gathering up the clipboard and writing utensil again to make more quick notes in his angular shorthand. "Your job is to rest, and that is all. Report to whatever healer inquires how your legs are feeling. If there is no change when you have recovered from your head injury, other measures will be taken." He doesn't elaborate on what those might be, of course.

K'sar nods a little to Neiran's instructions. "Yessir, Healer." He takes the cup from Rysia, his shaking hands betraying his true emotions. A sip and he tries to not make a face at the taste.

"PRESENTS!" This comes exploding from the doorway, as well as a tall man with dark hair and laughing blue eyes. He is eclipsed by a stack of boxes, some of them wrapped for shipping, others wrapped in bright, sometimes metallic paper. He makes his way over to Neiran and proceeds to shove those boxes at him, peeking around them with a brilliant grin, "Happy Birthday, little brother..."

Rysia jumps, almost out of her skin, at the exploding statement - thankfully, K'sar already has the tea. She turns to look at the rider for a moment, then turns back. "I'll ah, go see about some sweetner, mayhaps? If you are to drink more than one?" And before she is told yea, or nay, the girl is back the way she's come, with a minor misjudgement just of where that entrance wall was in relation to her hip. Ah well, if it's not broken, she hasn't hurt it, right? Right.

Neiran's head snaps towards the exit at that sudden salutation. The voice is unmistakable, but it's the sight of the tall striding man which strikes fear into Neiran's heart. He looks between Rysia and K'sar quickly, and excuses himself with as much smoothness he can muster. "That is all. Good eve. Thank you for assisting with the tea." Unfortunately, M'eri is right at his side by the time he's done saying those words. All the healer can do is look at M'eri dolefully, the dark circles under his eyes and his pale skin making his expression rather pitiable. "It isn't my birthday," he stoically denies. It's the truth, considering he counts his Turns ahead with the turning of the Turn itself, and that was yesterday. Perhaps if he stands there looking reluctant, M'eri will leave him be?

K'sar stares at the stack of gifts and grins weakly before turning to watch Rysia escape. His smile fades and he bows his head to his tea, figuring she's not going to be interested in him for sure now.

Rysia exits through the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.

Kierom enters from the living cavern.

M'eri reaches over and grabs Neiran, giving him a one-armed hug and even smooching his brother's head, unless he tries to pull away too fast. Releasing him after he's done that much torment, he shakes his head and grins at him once more, "I know, it's late, but things were a little busy yesterday, ne? Anyway, these are the presents from mom and dad, too. I was going to take them to your room, but I figured you'd rather get rest after work, right?" He sits down on an abandoned hospital bed, waves to the patients he startled with his impromptu entrance, particularly K'sar, only to glance back up at his brother and motion to the presents - they've found their way to the bed's table, "Well?"

K'sar is sipping a rather vile tea and trying to not pay too much attention to M'eri and Neiran. That much exuberant joyfulness is just bloody /grating/ when you're staring at legs that don't work.

Neiran is incapable of jerking away - he's too tired, and that'd be undignified besides. He suffers the other indignity, letting M'eri kiss his head while he positively glowers. Some redness has made its way into his cheeks, a bit of black hair loosened from his tail falling to frame his face askew, adding to his flustered appearance. "Meridian," he hisses under his breath. "I would have preferred you consulted me in private. I've just finished a consultation with a patient, and I have not slept since the day before yesterday. Your intrusion is inconsiderate, however well meaning. I will not accept token things from /them/, either. They should not have troubled themselves."

M'eri is entirely ignoring Neiran as he hisses at him, all of his attention on K'sar, as if Neiran weren't even talking, "So, from the position you were in, I'm figuring something is wrong with your legs and that woman who left is someone you'd rather didn't factor that into attractiveness?" He folds his legs up, and while he seems to be energetic and forward, it isn't insensitive so much as a calm interest in K'sar's situation. It may even be concern. He waits for Neiran to finish before speaking to him, though he still looks at K'sar, "Open the damn packages and stop being so self-indulgently melodramatic."

Kierom slowly walks into the Infirmary, looking around and frowns as he sees the Healer Neiran talking with Meri, but then nods as he sees the patient he came to visit and heads over to see the bronzerider. "K'sar?" he starts, "Is this a good time? Can you have vistors?"

K'sar nods to Kierom, almost in relief and glances over at M'eri. "Rysia is someone I care about who was not pleased with my continued and repeated absences of late. Having half my body decide to stop working, doesn't exactly help the situation." He sounds wholly disgusted with his current situation, as if it were an inconvenience that /really/ should have arranged this with him for a more opportune time. "But if she can't deal with this, then there are plenty of others, male and female, who wouldn't have a problem with it. I can /still/ fly." Yeah, important stuff.

Self-indulgently...? Neiran's brows knit, a chord struck in him. Moved to obedience (even if frowning all the while), he turns to the gifts and eyes them warily. Kierom's entrance is all but overlooked, save for a flicker of a look-over and a pursing of his lips. He can't very well refuse any visitors, considering he's been attacked with presents, and M'eri is here, as well. "You'll recover," is his stern 'encouragement' to K'sar after hearing his disparaging remarks, as his slender fingers pick at the covering of one of the gifts.

M'eri rests his arms on his knees, folding them comfortably as he considers K'sar, eventually querying, "But it seems like you'd rather it didn't bother her..." A pause for thought, and then, "I don't imagine she will. Besides, it could be temporary, and if so, Nei'll manage it out." He eyes the tea, then pushes himself to his feet, wandering over to one of the cabinets. No, not a Healer, but he knows this place fairly well. He steals something from a small tin before returning to the abandoned bed and dropping a couple sugar cubes into the tea, "It usually kicks out the bitterness. Doesn't help much, but maybe a little." At Kierom's arrival, the bluerider spares a warm smile for his younger friend before returning his attention to his brother, finally, "It won't kill you, little brother. I promise. I think you'll actually like my presents. They're the ones in blue wrapping." Of course.

Kierom moves over to K'sar's side, ignoring Neiran almost completely except for the word 'recover' and smiles slightly, "They expect you to recover? I was a little worried after you came to the Infirmary after what happened." Kie returns M'eri's smile, although not quite as warm and blushes just slightly and almost not noticeable. "I was talking too Essdara and she mentioned you and Roa, so I thought I'd come by and see for myself."

K'sar mutters a low 'thanks' to M'eri for the sugar and swirls the cup to dissolve it before he looks over at Kierom and leaves the brothers to their banter and presents, a soft "Happy Birthday" to Neiran his final offering. Sipping the tea he lowers his voice so that his conversation with Kierom is not overheard. Nope, he's not going to talk about Rysia with M'eri any more.

Kierom senses "K'sar murmurs. "Thank you. I'm hurting a bit, but the healer believes I'll be alright in a couple of days. Roa said that we weren't to discuss what happened at all? Is there some sort of official word on that?""

If it were possible for Neiran to look more disgruntled, he would. M'eri is distracting him all too easily from doing his job, and the bedraggled healer can only sit down on the bed next to M'eri, picking at the wrapping with solemnity and about as much happy anticipation as someone awaiting dental surgery. "You shouldn't have," the black-haired young man murmurs. In the mouths of others, it'd be a pleased remark on the gifter's thoughtfulness. On Neiran's tongue, it suggests he really shouldn't have. He looks at K'sar briefly, uttering a token "thank you" in response.

You sense Kierom nods slowly. "Nothing's being said yet, but it seems that there might be more to it. It was a very intense night and not one I expected. I am glad to see you moving though."

Kierom senses "K'sar grins a little. "Well, parts of me are moving." He glances over at Roa and his expression softens. "She's going to be alright too. We Telgari are tough.""

K'sar sets the tea aside and relaxes into the bed, not looking quite so nauseous.

You sense Kierom nods slowly as his face softens as he looks at Roa. "I was watching over her some near the end of that and was worried about you both." He blushes slightly and nods at the rider.

K'sar talks softly with Kierom, trying to not look at what Neiran unwraps. A collection of 'blue dragon' pleasure toys in one of the boxes would not surprise him at all. (ooc: Yes, player is tired and definitely being a wiseass.)

Kierom senses "K'sar mmms softly. "She's been around ever since she was about knee high. She's grown up." Then he closes his eyes and murmurs "Thank you for watching out for us. I'm sorry I wasn't more help.""

Kierom talks with K'sar, blushing slightly, and completely ignoring with Healer and only a slight glance to M'eri before returning to the conversation at hand.

Kierom whispers "Well, it's understandable with what happened. I'm just glad everything turned out as they did," Kie blushes a little as he smiles at the rider, "You do seem okay, even if bruised up."

Kierom senses "K'sar grins a little at the blush. "Head hurts, a lot. Stitched up the cut and I need a bath like nobody's business. But the worst seems to be the bruising has messed up my back and my legs. Numbweed and teas help the pain. I couldn't even breathe right earlier, it hurt so bad." One hand curls in a fist of bedding and he looks aside, lashes suddenly suspiciously wet."

M'eri puts his arm around Neiran's shoulders as he goes about opening the packages, leaning over to say something to him quietly, voice low and dark hair hanging down around his face. Whatever it is, he says it seriously before straightening again, arching his back to pop his shoulders only to pat Neiran on the back and smile at him, "Try to be happier, little brother. Being happy is easy when things are going well; being happy when things aren't is the only time really worth doing it. It's when you need to be." It's absentminded and said in a relatively playful voice, followed by a light ruffle to his sibling's hair.

Kierom whispers "If you need anything..." Kie begins as he moves closer to the edge of the rider's bed, concern on his face at the tears and he reaches forward to touch the rider's cheek. "I'm sure it'd be okay and I'd be available to help if you want," he blushes slightly, "no matter what you need."

Kierom senses "K'sar turns at the touch and nods, leaning slightly towards Kie, voice low. "I...don't like looking weak. I'm a /bronzerider/ by Faranth, and I shouldn't have to ask every five minutes for help!" his voice hisses softly, the frustration, fear and pain easily heard. "I..." he chokes low and growls out. "Having someone that isn't...revolted by me, is a help." Implying that there was someone here earlier that /was/ acting that way."

"I am not unhappy," Neiran murmurs, in what may or may not be a lie. He's revealed one of the gifts, the portrait, which he only briefly glances at before he sets it aside and lays the wrappings atop it to shield it from overcurious eyes. The handkerchief is also set aside without comment, his progress through his gifts methodical. He doesn't bother to try and fix his hair despite M'eri's rufflings, knowing that any fixing will just be undone. The journals under the blue wrap elicit a better look over, and perhaps his consideration of the items is translatable into approval.

Kierom whispers "Who could be revolted by you? It's not your falt what happened, and you will recover in time. Shards! Who could be revolted by you at all?" Kie's voice hisses slightly, hinting that there maybe a little more to this than stated. "Yes, you are a bronzerider, but this is just temporary. Remember that. And don't let thinks bother you."

K'sar leans in to Kierom and murmurs "Help me slide down in the bed a bit more? I don't want to shift everything the wrong way and I'm starting to get sleepy."

Kierom nods slowly at K'sar and runs his fingers over K'sar's hair before moving to help him adjust in the bed. "I hope you sleep well, K'sar and don't mind if I visit more," he says softly to the rider.

K'sar's murmur in return is barely coherent before he drops into tea-assisted sleep, going quickly slack-muscled and limp - probably a good thing for healing.

Kierom senses "K'sar murmurs. "Come visit..you can help massage my legs..." He draws a slow breath and then mumbles "...stay with me..." before he can't fight the sleep any longer and goes limp in your grip."

Kierom nods slowly as the rider goes to sleep, a faint smile on his face as he brushes the rider's hair off his face. He glances at the Healer and the other rider present, not really having kept track of the conversation, but doesn't seem to leave quite yet.

M'eri just watches his brother absently as he unwraps those presents, glancing aside to Kierom absently before he draws one leg up onto the bed, curling his arm around his bent knee and scratching a fingertip along his cheek. He doesn't seem to be overly surprised at that pause, but he does smile, a vague, mildly tired smile, his bangs drifting down over his eyes.