Arrival
Location: Dragon Barracks
Time: Afternoon on Day 3, Month 6, Turn 1 of the Seventh Pass
Players: K'sar, Roa, Rysia, Tialith, Dananth
Scene: Roa arrives from Telgar to find an od friend in a sorry state. As an OOC note, this is Roa's debut scene.
Caucus Dragon Barracks(#311RA)
A center aisle is flanked by stone couches designed to cradle the bodies of fully adult dragons. The rock in the center of each has been worn smooth with Turns of sleeping bodies while the rock on the edges has been scored deep by countless talons. Each couch has an accompanying cot to its right, and each cot has a single clothespress. The walls have been covered with old tapestries, and the floor with rushes, both to provide warmth and to muffle the sound of many people snoring.
Tialith enters from the bowl.
Roa enters from the bowl.
Danalith is curled, muzzle on tail as he keeps watch while K'sar tosses restlessly in his cot. The fool went and got himself a bit of a cold yesterday and is wholly miserable and feverish. Not the best 'welcome to the weyr' you've likely been expecting.
From the tunnel into the bowl come Tialith and her rider, freshly arrived, Roa's nose still pink from the trip between. In typical Tialith fashion, the gold pads off to fully investigate every nook and cranny of their new abode, and also to decide which couch will suit her best. Roa, on the other hand, pays particular attention to the familar bronze and the tossing and turning rider sleeping nearby. Padding quietly over she stands above K'sar...one of the few moments where she's taller than him. "I bet you haven't even gone to see a healer, have you." A fine greeting after several months of not seeing one another.
Dananth snorts a warm, welcoming greeting for the queen, reaching out to touch muzzles if she allows.
The voice pierces the fevered haze and K'sar groans, rubbing his face before he rolls over. "Great, now I'm hallucinat.." he opens his eyes and then stares. "Roa?"
Tialith does allow it, if briefly. She's exploring, you see. There is also the glib greeting, in the gold's warm and bemused thoughts, You seem well. Your rider does not.
Dananth projects to Tialith, I am. He is not. He needs tending. Yours will do well.
Roa nods, settling the back of her hand over the bronzerider's forehead. "It's me. And Tialith. Hello, K'sar. Really...have you seen a healer? How long have you been sick?" The girl's voice, as ever, is soft and often lost amid other noises. Now, it's tinged with worry. Luckily, it's quiet here.
"No, no healer. S'just a cold." K'sar murmurs, closing his eyes at the touch of your cool hands. "That feels good. Do that again?" Men are babies when they're sick, aren't they? (at least, that's what my wife says!) "Stayed out on th'spire in the rain all day, drinkin' a little. Dananth made me come in 'cause he was hungry."
The mental equivalent of a long-suffering sigh. We cannot see the rest of the weyr if she is tending yours. Oh! Tialith's attention is caught by a particularly smooth and stoney couch. This one is good.
Dananth projects to Tialith, Nothing to see but mud and rain and cold. I miss the sun.
Roa tsks softly. "Dananth has the sense you lack then," the goldrider quips. "You have a fever too. Not just a cold. Why were you out in the rain?" Roa lifts one hand, settling the other on K'sar's forehead, her knuckles chill. "I don't even know where the infirmary is, either..."
"Don't want to make a fuss, Roa. Politics here are worse'n home." K'sar offers hoarsely. "Juice and rest and I should be alright." He closes his eyes, nuzzling your hand. "Sweet little one, I've missed you. I'm glad you're not here as a 'rider though. They kill rider's here, for power." Fever? Maybe. Or maybe truth. "I'm going to be a rider, though...no more caucus for me."
Roa's sigh rather mimics her dragon's. "Oh, K'sar..." There is patience and annoyance in her tone, "trading one villian for another, hmm?" It's an old argument. One never really settled so mostly avoided. At least on Roa's end of things. "Well, I've missed you too, for all Telgar has been a bit more peaceful." She pulls her hand away, looking around for the juice K'sar mentioned.
"They lost a lot of riders and dragons in the Fall over High Reaches Hold...it was bad." K'sar murmurs softly. There is an empty cup, but no pitcher and no juice.
Tialith peers for a long time at one couch in particular before blowing a bit of air out her nose and then climbing onto it, settling down to test the stone slab for comfort.
K'sar is dozing a little after you left, fingers twisting in the blanket that covers his furs.
Roa returns from her travels abroad (or at least, around the weyr) with a heavy skin slung over her shoulder and a tray with a steaming bowl carried in her hands. Tialith raises her head from the couch she's chosen to offer her rider a welcoming croon, and then resettles, eyes glowing the soft blues and greens of calm.
Dananth offers a low croon as well, worry tinging the colors of his glittering orbs as he watches Roa approach, mentally nudging K'sar to wake. She brings food. You need food.
A low groan and K'sar mutters. "I don't want to eat. It's so cc..cold..."
Roa seats herself on the edge of K'sar's bed as there's no where else, save for the stone couches. "You've got a fever," the girl says gently. "It's hot soup. It'll warm you inside out. Can you sit up?" As she speaks, she carefully slides the skin off her shoulder and settles it on the ground, the contents sloshing.
Opening his eyes, K'sar looks at you and murmurs. "I can fly. Is it Thread?" He pushes to sit up, settling on his elbows. "Just gotta get my boots. S'lien will be pissed if the wing is late..."
Roa shifts again to settle her hand against the rising brozerider's chest. "No thread," she says. "No S'lien. Just soup." As K'sar seems to be propped on his elbows for the moment, she takes the opportunity to scoop up a spoonful of broth and hold it to the rider's lips.
Automatic reaction. K'sar lets out a slow breath and then takes the mouthful of soup, swallowing with a faint wince. He makes a sound of appreciation and murmurs. "S'good. Thanks, little one."
Roa's shoulders relax a little as K'sar seems to regain a bit of lucidity. "Thank the weyr cooks," Roa muses. "I'm just the transport." Modest as ever. Another spoonful is lifted and held out to K'sar. "What made you sit out drinking in the rain?"
The soup-eating is all he focuses on for a couple of minutes, then K'sar, a little more awake and a little more coherent, murmurs. "Thinking. Trying to decide what I'm going to do next. I didn't know how long it had been - was grey and rainy all day and I was just sippin' on that Bollian sweet liquor and..." he at least has the grace to look a little sheepish. "I didn't think I was going to get sick."
"I don't suppose anyone *plans* illness," Roa says. She tips the bowl to collect the last few spoonfuls. "You're not invulnerable, you know." She pauses as the soup is finished to put the tray down and reach for the empty glass. "Going to do next? I thought you said you were becoming a wingrider?"
"That's if G'thon accepts the transfer. And, going from wingleader to wingrider, and a /foreign/ one at that, is pretty hard on the political aspirations." K'sar replies hoarsely. "Although, wingrider is a far cry better than caucus 'student' for someone that's the same age as the headmaster himself."
Roa laughs a little at the image of K'sar seating in a classroom and facing a teacher who is younger. She can't quite help it. The skin is lifted and uncorked, redfruit juice poured into the glass which is then held out to K'sar. "Drink," she says. "You can't expect them to make you a wingleader here right off the bat. You're not a native."
"You laugh." K'sar replies, accepting the juice and drinking thirstily. "That's what they were going to do. I argued it and ended up just sitting in on a couple of the advance classes. Those were good, but..." he coughs and the sound is rough. "Oh, Roa, I'm glad you're here. I've got to tell you, I found a brother here."
Roa seems about to say something but then she stops, eyes widening, expression moving towards startled surprise. "Transfer," the word is little more than an exhalation. "Do you mean...you're not coming back to Telgar? Ever?"
"Of course I will, someday. It's /home/!" K'sar replies. "But S'lien won't let me come home right now. He's forcing the transfer." He reaches out to grasp one of your hands. "Come here, sweeting. It's alright, really."
Roa raises a free hand precariously close to her mouth, likely to nibble one one of those pour, downtrodden nails. But at the last moment, fingers are jerked away to snag the now-empty glass from K'sar's free hand. His other is given a small squeeze before she pulls away for the juice skin and glass is refilled, offered back. "That's...good to hear. I guess S'lien just wants some time apart. So you can both cool off." And then in an attempt to quickly veer the subject away from the Telgar Weyrleader, "Tell me about this brother you found."
K'sar looks at the glass and takes a sip, then sets it aside, sliding down to settle on the pillows again. "His name's B'ren, green Miyamurath's rider. He grew up in Ista - my father is his father. Looks like dear old Journeyman harper genes got spread far and wide."
Roa's brows raise in surprise. "I thought you were just being metaphorical. How'd you figure it out? Are you getting along?"
"He got a letter from his mother." K'sar replies. "And we were talking. It just kind of...came out. And, I think we're getting along alright. We were friends /before/ we found out, so it was not too big a shock. He's getting used to the idea, though, I think. Wasn't too keen on it at first." Eyes drift closed and he lets out a slow breath. "Touch my face again? Your hands are so cool."
Roa's smile turns a touch rueful, but she complies, pressing cooled palms against K'sar's cheeks. "Only you, sir, would use a fever to get a girl's hands on you," she chides.
Sighing in pleasure, the heat of his face warming your hands quickly, K'sar murmurs "I don't need a fever to get a girl to touch me. You know that, little Roa." He opens his eyes and murmurs, seemingly out of context. "Dananth caught Aneleth in her flight last week. Ginella of Benden is her rider. The poor girl had a horrible first flight - this was her second - and she was so stiff when the flight was over, she couldn't get me out of the weyr fast enough."
Roa turns her hands so her cooler backs and knuckles touch skin as her palms warm. "I was only teasing," the goldrider placates. "Well, congradulations. Dananth must be very pleased with himself. Not every queenrider is weyrbred. I expect some feel...awkward...after the dragons fall asleep." A faint hint of color creeps up along the girl's cheeks and throat. She always blushes when they discuss flights, for all Roa tries to sound so calm and ready.
"When I'm not sick..." K'sar starts, looking at you, trying to see into your eyes. "I promise you, Roa. I can make it sweet for you, so it won't be something that might damage you, or Tialith, for flights."
Roa tsks softly and shakes her head, as she has so often before. "We're tougher than all that, Tia and I." Her head turns to regard her lifemate, that silly smile creeping across her lips, the same that any rider gets when they're caught thinking about their dragon. "It's a kind offer, K'sar, but we'll be fine." She flips her hands again.
"Mmhmm. And when you're dragon drunk and Tia gets lost because you get scared and push things away? Or wake up, hurting and terrified?" K'sar sighs, lifting one hand to capture yours to press to his cheek. "I worry about you, little one."
K'sar hasn't, apparently, wholly reconciled the 'little sister' with the goldrider.
Rysia enters from the common area.
K'sar lies on his cot, an empty soup bowl nearby and a skin of something else on the floor. A cup of redfruit juice is within reach and he seems to be speaking intently to the girl sitting on the edge of his cot. One hand is twisted in the blankets, the other holds one of Roa's hands to his cheek.
Roa bites her lower lip, looking down and away. "Don't chide about that," she says, her voice dipping even more soft than is normal. "I wouldn't ever lose Tialith. Not to anything." The dragon in question, previously dozing lightly cracks a single eye open as Roa mentions her name. "And if I wake up hurting, well, I brought it on myself, didn't I, and I've no one else to blame." She allows her hand to be captured and held. "Please don't worry. I'm not twelve turns old anymore. I've my own dragon to scrub and oil now."
"I'm not. It's dangerous, little one. It's /happened/ before. Why add risk to risk?" K'sar replies, then releases her hand to cover his mouth, coughing raggedly. "I'm hot and cold all at once. Shards, this is rotten."
A brown mop of hair - the braid having fallen out /again - sticks her head in through the doorway seperating Dragon Barracks from the Common Room. A glance around, and Rysia calls out, "Any sick riders wanting company?" she inquires, coming the rest of the way in, a basket over one arm, and a corked bottle sticking out of one end.
Roa looks over as the brownhaired girl arrives, and with what looks like it might be food no less. Instead of inviting the other woman over, she looks down to the coughing bronzerider. "Hey now. You have a guest. Who's that?" Her voice is amused, and more than a little relieved to have an excuse to talk about something else.
"Over here, Blossom." K'sar offers hoarsely. "S'Rysia. Weaver girl and friend-with-benefits." He gives Roa a faint smile. "You'll like her. She picks on me too." Eyes shift from Roa towards the opening where Rysia should be appearing and he murmurs. "You were right, Ry luv. I feel horrid."
Ask, and you shall receive, "Of course I am. Always am, but when I'm not..." quips Rysia, offering the sick rider a fond smile, before looking up towards Roa, "Oh, he has company. I didn't be interrupting anything, did I? Rysia, /not/ Blossom, despite what Trouble might say. Resident, and all-around moving disaster!" That oh-so-flattering introduction over with, Rys looks back at K'sar, and shakes her head, "...... next time you go sit out in the rain the think, and it takes Dananth to speak with common sense, I'm gonna spike your food with that stuff T'zen was eating last night."
Roa rolls her eyes at the pet name. "He's tagged you too, has he?" the girl asks sympathetically towards the weaver. "Hello. I'm Roa, gold Tialith's rider, sent to the Caucus from Telgar weyr. And no, you weren't interrupting anything. We were just catching up." Her hand slips away from K'sar's as she peers curiously at the basket. But, she doesn't ask.
"Are your hands cool?" K'sar asks, sounding as pitiful as humanly possible. "My head is so hot, and I'm cold everywhere else." The shift of the huge bronze and the faint whirling of his eyes, a worried tinge to the usual quiet hues shows his distress at his rider's illness.
Tialith projects, You brave thread but a fever has you whirling?
Dananth projects to Tialith, He is not well. It does not make me happy.
"A pleasure to meet you, Goldrider Roa. Should I ask what he got you with?" Rysia asks with a grin, before shaking her head at the bronze rider, "They are damp - I am not sure how cold they are..." she admits, before going to perch on the edge of the cot, near the head. In fact, she nudges his head to make him lift it, the better to rest on her leg. "Brought some tea which should help. You /are/ drinkin' lots, right?" The cup is given a considering look, then the rest of the debris around the cot.
Tialith's thoughts are calm, unruffled. Roa isn't worried. He will mend.
"He had a cup of juice and some soup. I don't think he'd had much before that." Roa watches the weaver bump K'sar's head and worries her lower lip to fight back a grin. "Tea's a good idea." Nicknames aren't mentioned.
K'sar groans as his head is bumped and mumbles. "Shush, Little one, or I'll tell her your real nickname." As Rysia's hands brush his face, the lines of pain around his eyes ease and he sighs, then whimpers as she fusses with tea and things. "I had some juice when B'ren was here. And...Caizara said she'd send some herbs for tea..." Take one ill bronzerider of reasonable looks, add sympathy and weyr women and stir vigorously.
"Oh, you poor baby...." Rysia coos, shaking her head at the rider, a slight grin fighting to break free. "Well, if you don't drink all of my tea, I'm going to be /very/ upset with you." The fact it's probably very.... strong tasting shaln't be mentioned, not at all, even as chilled fingers ignore the forehead for the side of the neck. A glance is then given towards Roa, as she asks, "Catching up as you were, does he do this often?"
Roa mmfs, wiping the smile more completely off her face as she's 'threatened' with nicknames. "Does he do what often? Rename people or sit out in the rain?" To K'sar she notes, "You're lucky you're so easy to look at. Wouldn't get nearly as many nurses, else."
"Mmhmm." K'sar murmurs. "Was fine until Thread-scar. Not so much now." Eyes closed, he sighs as Rysia's cool hands touch the sides of his throat, cooling the blood pounding in his temples. "Not sick. Once, since Impress'n..." He falls silent, letting the two of you talk while he floats in relative misery.
"Yes," comes the oh so helpful answer from Rysia with a grin, before shaking her head, "I just have him at my mercy now. I'd cackle, but I usually end up choking, and that wouldn't do, not at all..." she admits to Roa, before asking, "Did you just get here? If you don't have enough blankets, just steal K'sar's - he can flirt his way into getting new ones, I'm sure."
K'sar remains silent for a few minutes while the player is on the phone. (Pose around me)
The goldrider nods to the question. "We arrived just this afternoon. I'm not even sure...is there someone I ought to see about schedules and classes and things?" Her hands in her lap knot over one another. "I didn't think to ask before I left Telgar." She looks down at the ailing rider, then back towards the weaver. "He's not the most, uh, healthful of folk."
"... true. So ignore him, and if you need blankets, let me know. I'm not one of the folk in charge, but I can get a extra blanket or two. Hm. Not sure 'bout the Caucas side of things - resident, not a student, after all. Hey, Trouble - who'd you have to go see first? Headmaster, or someone else?" Rysia asks the rather feverish bronzerider, before nodding, "Probably is someone, though. Always is."
K'sar mumbles. "Headmaster Sefton. Devious bastard, but not so bad." He sighs quietly and then opens his eyes. "This is only the second time I've been ill in eight turns, not counting the thread scoring. The runtling over there gave me her spring fever when she was twelve, or was it eleven? It was a while ago, anyway."
Roa sits up straighter, affronted by the accusation. "If I recall, you gave *me* that cold. It was all I could do to keep from sneezing in the stew while I worked in the kitchens," she mutters. "Headmaster Sefton." She nods slowly. "All right. And see Rysia if I need blankets. Thank you."
Rysia grins a bit, "... starting to sound like me an' Kolyn. If either of you get out waterskins, warn a girl - I'll make sure to stay out of the way. And speaking of Kolyn, he ruined an hour of work earlier today, so I've got to get back to that. K'sar, remember - drink all the tea, even if it tastes like something a runner wouldn't touch. And you're very welcome, Goldrider..." Rys adds, before lifting K'sar's head up, and slipping off the cot.
"Thanks, Rysia." K'sar offers softly. "Thank you." He smiles a little and murmurs. "Roa? don't leave yet?"
Roa watches as Rysia stands. "See you," she offers and then looks down at K'sar when he speaks. She holds her hands up, helplessly. "They're both warm now," she says apologetically. "But I'll sit with you until you fall asleep if you like."
Rysia heads up the large tunnel that leads out into the bowl.
"Could you help me drink some of that tea? Maybe it'll help the fever." K'sar murmurs. "Besides, wouldn't put it past Rys to make me drink it, sleeping or not."
Roa nods. "Of course," the girl says simply enough, picking up the tea in question. "Here, prop yourself up again." She fetches the spoon from the empty bowl and uses it to offer small portions of overly-strong tea to K'sar.
K'sar can't prop himself up this time. He reaches under and pushes the pillow up a bit, sipping at the tea. "I'll give you a proper tour of the weyr in a day or so, Roa. I promise. I found a great meadow and a nice lake between here and home."
Roa smiles softly. "If Tialith has her say, we'll have crawled along the weyr from toe to spire before long." The goldrider continues spooning in tea, pausing long enough to let K'sar swallow or speak when he's so inclined. "Anyhow, just take it easy and mend yourself. Then you can show me all the lakes you want."
"She looks lovely, Roa. You've done well with her." K'sar offers quietly between sips. Good thing he really can't taste much, this stuff is /nasty/. "I'm glad you're here too. I've been homesick a bit."
Roa turns again to peer at the slumbering gold. "She is beautiful isn't she," the girl sighs. Try to give Roa a compliment and one is met with ducked eyes and denials. But compliment her dragon? That brings on that soft, lazy smile again. "I expect I'll get homesick too after a while. We can commiserate together." She holds out the last of the tea to K'sar.
K'sar finishes the last sip and sighs as it's done. "Sorry about being sick on your first day here, little one. Not how I wished to spend time with you, after all this time."
The goldrider puts the mug down and pulls K'sar's furs further up along his body. "It's nothing. Don't fret about it," Roa soothes. "Try and get some sleep. And keep drinking."
"Juice." Roa adds hastily. "Keep drinking *juice*."
K'sar grins a bit at that and nods, eyes closing as he settles in. "Glad you're here." he whispers once more, then drops into a restless sleep.
Roa smooths ruffles hair away from the brozerider's forehead and then stands and stretches, off to see about getting some food for herself.
Time: Afternoon on Day 3, Month 6, Turn 1 of the Seventh Pass
Players: K'sar, Roa, Rysia, Tialith, Dananth
Scene: Roa arrives from Telgar to find an od friend in a sorry state. As an OOC note, this is Roa's debut scene.
Caucus Dragon Barracks(#311RA)
A center aisle is flanked by stone couches designed to cradle the bodies of fully adult dragons. The rock in the center of each has been worn smooth with Turns of sleeping bodies while the rock on the edges has been scored deep by countless talons. Each couch has an accompanying cot to its right, and each cot has a single clothespress. The walls have been covered with old tapestries, and the floor with rushes, both to provide warmth and to muffle the sound of many people snoring.
Tialith enters from the bowl.
Roa enters from the bowl.
Danalith is curled, muzzle on tail as he keeps watch while K'sar tosses restlessly in his cot. The fool went and got himself a bit of a cold yesterday and is wholly miserable and feverish. Not the best 'welcome to the weyr' you've likely been expecting.
From the tunnel into the bowl come Tialith and her rider, freshly arrived, Roa's nose still pink from the trip between. In typical Tialith fashion, the gold pads off to fully investigate every nook and cranny of their new abode, and also to decide which couch will suit her best. Roa, on the other hand, pays particular attention to the familar bronze and the tossing and turning rider sleeping nearby. Padding quietly over she stands above K'sar...one of the few moments where she's taller than him. "I bet you haven't even gone to see a healer, have you." A fine greeting after several months of not seeing one another.
Dananth snorts a warm, welcoming greeting for the queen, reaching out to touch muzzles if she allows.
The voice pierces the fevered haze and K'sar groans, rubbing his face before he rolls over. "Great, now I'm hallucinat.." he opens his eyes and then stares. "Roa?"
Tialith does allow it, if briefly. She's exploring, you see. There is also the glib greeting, in the gold's warm and bemused thoughts, You seem well. Your rider does not.
Dananth projects to Tialith, I am. He is not. He needs tending. Yours will do well.
Roa nods, settling the back of her hand over the bronzerider's forehead. "It's me. And Tialith. Hello, K'sar. Really...have you seen a healer? How long have you been sick?" The girl's voice, as ever, is soft and often lost amid other noises. Now, it's tinged with worry. Luckily, it's quiet here.
"No, no healer. S'just a cold." K'sar murmurs, closing his eyes at the touch of your cool hands. "That feels good. Do that again?" Men are babies when they're sick, aren't they? (at least, that's what my wife says!) "Stayed out on th'spire in the rain all day, drinkin' a little. Dananth made me come in 'cause he was hungry."
The mental equivalent of a long-suffering sigh. We cannot see the rest of the weyr if she is tending yours. Oh! Tialith's attention is caught by a particularly smooth and stoney couch. This one is good.
Dananth projects to Tialith, Nothing to see but mud and rain and cold. I miss the sun.
Roa tsks softly. "Dananth has the sense you lack then," the goldrider quips. "You have a fever too. Not just a cold. Why were you out in the rain?" Roa lifts one hand, settling the other on K'sar's forehead, her knuckles chill. "I don't even know where the infirmary is, either..."
"Don't want to make a fuss, Roa. Politics here are worse'n home." K'sar offers hoarsely. "Juice and rest and I should be alright." He closes his eyes, nuzzling your hand. "Sweet little one, I've missed you. I'm glad you're not here as a 'rider though. They kill rider's here, for power." Fever? Maybe. Or maybe truth. "I'm going to be a rider, though...no more caucus for me."
Roa's sigh rather mimics her dragon's. "Oh, K'sar..." There is patience and annoyance in her tone, "trading one villian for another, hmm?" It's an old argument. One never really settled so mostly avoided. At least on Roa's end of things. "Well, I've missed you too, for all Telgar has been a bit more peaceful." She pulls her hand away, looking around for the juice K'sar mentioned.
"They lost a lot of riders and dragons in the Fall over High Reaches Hold...it was bad." K'sar murmurs softly. There is an empty cup, but no pitcher and no juice.
Tialith peers for a long time at one couch in particular before blowing a bit of air out her nose and then climbing onto it, settling down to test the stone slab for comfort.
K'sar is dozing a little after you left, fingers twisting in the blanket that covers his furs.
Roa returns from her travels abroad (or at least, around the weyr) with a heavy skin slung over her shoulder and a tray with a steaming bowl carried in her hands. Tialith raises her head from the couch she's chosen to offer her rider a welcoming croon, and then resettles, eyes glowing the soft blues and greens of calm.
Dananth offers a low croon as well, worry tinging the colors of his glittering orbs as he watches Roa approach, mentally nudging K'sar to wake. She brings food. You need food.
A low groan and K'sar mutters. "I don't want to eat. It's so cc..cold..."
Roa seats herself on the edge of K'sar's bed as there's no where else, save for the stone couches. "You've got a fever," the girl says gently. "It's hot soup. It'll warm you inside out. Can you sit up?" As she speaks, she carefully slides the skin off her shoulder and settles it on the ground, the contents sloshing.
Opening his eyes, K'sar looks at you and murmurs. "I can fly. Is it Thread?" He pushes to sit up, settling on his elbows. "Just gotta get my boots. S'lien will be pissed if the wing is late..."
Roa shifts again to settle her hand against the rising brozerider's chest. "No thread," she says. "No S'lien. Just soup." As K'sar seems to be propped on his elbows for the moment, she takes the opportunity to scoop up a spoonful of broth and hold it to the rider's lips.
Automatic reaction. K'sar lets out a slow breath and then takes the mouthful of soup, swallowing with a faint wince. He makes a sound of appreciation and murmurs. "S'good. Thanks, little one."
Roa's shoulders relax a little as K'sar seems to regain a bit of lucidity. "Thank the weyr cooks," Roa muses. "I'm just the transport." Modest as ever. Another spoonful is lifted and held out to K'sar. "What made you sit out drinking in the rain?"
The soup-eating is all he focuses on for a couple of minutes, then K'sar, a little more awake and a little more coherent, murmurs. "Thinking. Trying to decide what I'm going to do next. I didn't know how long it had been - was grey and rainy all day and I was just sippin' on that Bollian sweet liquor and..." he at least has the grace to look a little sheepish. "I didn't think I was going to get sick."
"I don't suppose anyone *plans* illness," Roa says. She tips the bowl to collect the last few spoonfuls. "You're not invulnerable, you know." She pauses as the soup is finished to put the tray down and reach for the empty glass. "Going to do next? I thought you said you were becoming a wingrider?"
"That's if G'thon accepts the transfer. And, going from wingleader to wingrider, and a /foreign/ one at that, is pretty hard on the political aspirations." K'sar replies hoarsely. "Although, wingrider is a far cry better than caucus 'student' for someone that's the same age as the headmaster himself."
Roa laughs a little at the image of K'sar seating in a classroom and facing a teacher who is younger. She can't quite help it. The skin is lifted and uncorked, redfruit juice poured into the glass which is then held out to K'sar. "Drink," she says. "You can't expect them to make you a wingleader here right off the bat. You're not a native."
"You laugh." K'sar replies, accepting the juice and drinking thirstily. "That's what they were going to do. I argued it and ended up just sitting in on a couple of the advance classes. Those were good, but..." he coughs and the sound is rough. "Oh, Roa, I'm glad you're here. I've got to tell you, I found a brother here."
Roa seems about to say something but then she stops, eyes widening, expression moving towards startled surprise. "Transfer," the word is little more than an exhalation. "Do you mean...you're not coming back to Telgar? Ever?"
"Of course I will, someday. It's /home/!" K'sar replies. "But S'lien won't let me come home right now. He's forcing the transfer." He reaches out to grasp one of your hands. "Come here, sweeting. It's alright, really."
Roa raises a free hand precariously close to her mouth, likely to nibble one one of those pour, downtrodden nails. But at the last moment, fingers are jerked away to snag the now-empty glass from K'sar's free hand. His other is given a small squeeze before she pulls away for the juice skin and glass is refilled, offered back. "That's...good to hear. I guess S'lien just wants some time apart. So you can both cool off." And then in an attempt to quickly veer the subject away from the Telgar Weyrleader, "Tell me about this brother you found."
K'sar looks at the glass and takes a sip, then sets it aside, sliding down to settle on the pillows again. "His name's B'ren, green Miyamurath's rider. He grew up in Ista - my father is his father. Looks like dear old Journeyman harper genes got spread far and wide."
Roa's brows raise in surprise. "I thought you were just being metaphorical. How'd you figure it out? Are you getting along?"
"He got a letter from his mother." K'sar replies. "And we were talking. It just kind of...came out. And, I think we're getting along alright. We were friends /before/ we found out, so it was not too big a shock. He's getting used to the idea, though, I think. Wasn't too keen on it at first." Eyes drift closed and he lets out a slow breath. "Touch my face again? Your hands are so cool."
Roa's smile turns a touch rueful, but she complies, pressing cooled palms against K'sar's cheeks. "Only you, sir, would use a fever to get a girl's hands on you," she chides.
Sighing in pleasure, the heat of his face warming your hands quickly, K'sar murmurs "I don't need a fever to get a girl to touch me. You know that, little Roa." He opens his eyes and murmurs, seemingly out of context. "Dananth caught Aneleth in her flight last week. Ginella of Benden is her rider. The poor girl had a horrible first flight - this was her second - and she was so stiff when the flight was over, she couldn't get me out of the weyr fast enough."
Roa turns her hands so her cooler backs and knuckles touch skin as her palms warm. "I was only teasing," the goldrider placates. "Well, congradulations. Dananth must be very pleased with himself. Not every queenrider is weyrbred. I expect some feel...awkward...after the dragons fall asleep." A faint hint of color creeps up along the girl's cheeks and throat. She always blushes when they discuss flights, for all Roa tries to sound so calm and ready.
"When I'm not sick..." K'sar starts, looking at you, trying to see into your eyes. "I promise you, Roa. I can make it sweet for you, so it won't be something that might damage you, or Tialith, for flights."
Roa tsks softly and shakes her head, as she has so often before. "We're tougher than all that, Tia and I." Her head turns to regard her lifemate, that silly smile creeping across her lips, the same that any rider gets when they're caught thinking about their dragon. "It's a kind offer, K'sar, but we'll be fine." She flips her hands again.
"Mmhmm. And when you're dragon drunk and Tia gets lost because you get scared and push things away? Or wake up, hurting and terrified?" K'sar sighs, lifting one hand to capture yours to press to his cheek. "I worry about you, little one."
K'sar hasn't, apparently, wholly reconciled the 'little sister' with the goldrider.
Rysia enters from the common area.
K'sar lies on his cot, an empty soup bowl nearby and a skin of something else on the floor. A cup of redfruit juice is within reach and he seems to be speaking intently to the girl sitting on the edge of his cot. One hand is twisted in the blankets, the other holds one of Roa's hands to his cheek.
Roa bites her lower lip, looking down and away. "Don't chide about that," she says, her voice dipping even more soft than is normal. "I wouldn't ever lose Tialith. Not to anything." The dragon in question, previously dozing lightly cracks a single eye open as Roa mentions her name. "And if I wake up hurting, well, I brought it on myself, didn't I, and I've no one else to blame." She allows her hand to be captured and held. "Please don't worry. I'm not twelve turns old anymore. I've my own dragon to scrub and oil now."
"I'm not. It's dangerous, little one. It's /happened/ before. Why add risk to risk?" K'sar replies, then releases her hand to cover his mouth, coughing raggedly. "I'm hot and cold all at once. Shards, this is rotten."
A brown mop of hair - the braid having fallen out /again - sticks her head in through the doorway seperating Dragon Barracks from the Common Room. A glance around, and Rysia calls out, "Any sick riders wanting company?" she inquires, coming the rest of the way in, a basket over one arm, and a corked bottle sticking out of one end.
Roa looks over as the brownhaired girl arrives, and with what looks like it might be food no less. Instead of inviting the other woman over, she looks down to the coughing bronzerider. "Hey now. You have a guest. Who's that?" Her voice is amused, and more than a little relieved to have an excuse to talk about something else.
"Over here, Blossom." K'sar offers hoarsely. "S'Rysia. Weaver girl and friend-with-benefits." He gives Roa a faint smile. "You'll like her. She picks on me too." Eyes shift from Roa towards the opening where Rysia should be appearing and he murmurs. "You were right, Ry luv. I feel horrid."
Ask, and you shall receive, "Of course I am. Always am, but when I'm not..." quips Rysia, offering the sick rider a fond smile, before looking up towards Roa, "Oh, he has company. I didn't be interrupting anything, did I? Rysia, /not/ Blossom, despite what Trouble might say. Resident, and all-around moving disaster!" That oh-so-flattering introduction over with, Rys looks back at K'sar, and shakes her head, "...... next time you go sit out in the rain the think, and it takes Dananth to speak with common sense, I'm gonna spike your food with that stuff T'zen was eating last night."
Roa rolls her eyes at the pet name. "He's tagged you too, has he?" the girl asks sympathetically towards the weaver. "Hello. I'm Roa, gold Tialith's rider, sent to the Caucus from Telgar weyr. And no, you weren't interrupting anything. We were just catching up." Her hand slips away from K'sar's as she peers curiously at the basket. But, she doesn't ask.
"Are your hands cool?" K'sar asks, sounding as pitiful as humanly possible. "My head is so hot, and I'm cold everywhere else." The shift of the huge bronze and the faint whirling of his eyes, a worried tinge to the usual quiet hues shows his distress at his rider's illness.
Tialith projects, You brave thread but a fever has you whirling?
Dananth projects to Tialith, He is not well. It does not make me happy.
"A pleasure to meet you, Goldrider Roa. Should I ask what he got you with?" Rysia asks with a grin, before shaking her head at the bronze rider, "They are damp - I am not sure how cold they are..." she admits, before going to perch on the edge of the cot, near the head. In fact, she nudges his head to make him lift it, the better to rest on her leg. "Brought some tea which should help. You /are/ drinkin' lots, right?" The cup is given a considering look, then the rest of the debris around the cot.
Tialith's thoughts are calm, unruffled. Roa isn't worried. He will mend.
"He had a cup of juice and some soup. I don't think he'd had much before that." Roa watches the weaver bump K'sar's head and worries her lower lip to fight back a grin. "Tea's a good idea." Nicknames aren't mentioned.
K'sar groans as his head is bumped and mumbles. "Shush, Little one, or I'll tell her your real nickname." As Rysia's hands brush his face, the lines of pain around his eyes ease and he sighs, then whimpers as she fusses with tea and things. "I had some juice when B'ren was here. And...Caizara said she'd send some herbs for tea..." Take one ill bronzerider of reasonable looks, add sympathy and weyr women and stir vigorously.
"Oh, you poor baby...." Rysia coos, shaking her head at the rider, a slight grin fighting to break free. "Well, if you don't drink all of my tea, I'm going to be /very/ upset with you." The fact it's probably very.... strong tasting shaln't be mentioned, not at all, even as chilled fingers ignore the forehead for the side of the neck. A glance is then given towards Roa, as she asks, "Catching up as you were, does he do this often?"
Roa mmfs, wiping the smile more completely off her face as she's 'threatened' with nicknames. "Does he do what often? Rename people or sit out in the rain?" To K'sar she notes, "You're lucky you're so easy to look at. Wouldn't get nearly as many nurses, else."
"Mmhmm." K'sar murmurs. "Was fine until Thread-scar. Not so much now." Eyes closed, he sighs as Rysia's cool hands touch the sides of his throat, cooling the blood pounding in his temples. "Not sick. Once, since Impress'n..." He falls silent, letting the two of you talk while he floats in relative misery.
"Yes," comes the oh so helpful answer from Rysia with a grin, before shaking her head, "I just have him at my mercy now. I'd cackle, but I usually end up choking, and that wouldn't do, not at all..." she admits to Roa, before asking, "Did you just get here? If you don't have enough blankets, just steal K'sar's - he can flirt his way into getting new ones, I'm sure."
K'sar remains silent for a few minutes while the player is on the phone. (Pose around me)
The goldrider nods to the question. "We arrived just this afternoon. I'm not even sure...is there someone I ought to see about schedules and classes and things?" Her hands in her lap knot over one another. "I didn't think to ask before I left Telgar." She looks down at the ailing rider, then back towards the weaver. "He's not the most, uh, healthful of folk."
"... true. So ignore him, and if you need blankets, let me know. I'm not one of the folk in charge, but I can get a extra blanket or two. Hm. Not sure 'bout the Caucas side of things - resident, not a student, after all. Hey, Trouble - who'd you have to go see first? Headmaster, or someone else?" Rysia asks the rather feverish bronzerider, before nodding, "Probably is someone, though. Always is."
K'sar mumbles. "Headmaster Sefton. Devious bastard, but not so bad." He sighs quietly and then opens his eyes. "This is only the second time I've been ill in eight turns, not counting the thread scoring. The runtling over there gave me her spring fever when she was twelve, or was it eleven? It was a while ago, anyway."
Roa sits up straighter, affronted by the accusation. "If I recall, you gave *me* that cold. It was all I could do to keep from sneezing in the stew while I worked in the kitchens," she mutters. "Headmaster Sefton." She nods slowly. "All right. And see Rysia if I need blankets. Thank you."
Rysia grins a bit, "... starting to sound like me an' Kolyn. If either of you get out waterskins, warn a girl - I'll make sure to stay out of the way. And speaking of Kolyn, he ruined an hour of work earlier today, so I've got to get back to that. K'sar, remember - drink all the tea, even if it tastes like something a runner wouldn't touch. And you're very welcome, Goldrider..." Rys adds, before lifting K'sar's head up, and slipping off the cot.
"Thanks, Rysia." K'sar offers softly. "Thank you." He smiles a little and murmurs. "Roa? don't leave yet?"
Roa watches as Rysia stands. "See you," she offers and then looks down at K'sar when he speaks. She holds her hands up, helplessly. "They're both warm now," she says apologetically. "But I'll sit with you until you fall asleep if you like."
Rysia heads up the large tunnel that leads out into the bowl.
"Could you help me drink some of that tea? Maybe it'll help the fever." K'sar murmurs. "Besides, wouldn't put it past Rys to make me drink it, sleeping or not."
Roa nods. "Of course," the girl says simply enough, picking up the tea in question. "Here, prop yourself up again." She fetches the spoon from the empty bowl and uses it to offer small portions of overly-strong tea to K'sar.
K'sar can't prop himself up this time. He reaches under and pushes the pillow up a bit, sipping at the tea. "I'll give you a proper tour of the weyr in a day or so, Roa. I promise. I found a great meadow and a nice lake between here and home."
Roa smiles softly. "If Tialith has her say, we'll have crawled along the weyr from toe to spire before long." The goldrider continues spooning in tea, pausing long enough to let K'sar swallow or speak when he's so inclined. "Anyhow, just take it easy and mend yourself. Then you can show me all the lakes you want."
"She looks lovely, Roa. You've done well with her." K'sar offers quietly between sips. Good thing he really can't taste much, this stuff is /nasty/. "I'm glad you're here too. I've been homesick a bit."
Roa turns again to peer at the slumbering gold. "She is beautiful isn't she," the girl sighs. Try to give Roa a compliment and one is met with ducked eyes and denials. But compliment her dragon? That brings on that soft, lazy smile again. "I expect I'll get homesick too after a while. We can commiserate together." She holds out the last of the tea to K'sar.
K'sar finishes the last sip and sighs as it's done. "Sorry about being sick on your first day here, little one. Not how I wished to spend time with you, after all this time."
The goldrider puts the mug down and pulls K'sar's furs further up along his body. "It's nothing. Don't fret about it," Roa soothes. "Try and get some sleep. And keep drinking."
"Juice." Roa adds hastily. "Keep drinking *juice*."
K'sar grins a bit at that and nods, eyes closing as he settles in. "Glad you're here." he whispers once more, then drops into a restless sleep.
Roa smooths ruffles hair away from the brozerider's forehead and then stands and stretches, off to see about getting some food for herself.