[Log] Captive
Who: Aida, Donavon (NPC), Jensen, Katric (NPC), R'saro (NPC), Tavaly, T'zen, Vej (NPC)
When: Day 20, Month 5, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr; Bowl, High Reaches Weyr; Exile Islands
What: Donavon gets caught and deported to the islands.
Infirmary
The infirmary is divided into two sections. The larger of these is given over to injured dragons and is joined to the bowl by an immense tunnel. No less than six stone couches fill this area, with stations between each for medical supplies and personnel. The other side of the infirmary is for human patients and is furnished with double rows of cots. A large alcove near the exit to the living cavern houses the healers' area, where they store their supplies and can retreat for a moment of quiet before wading into the battle between life and death again.
Contents:
T'zen
Aida
Obvious Exits:
Living Cavern (LC) Bowl (B)
As evening starts to settle across the Weyr, things in the infirmary are still bustling. The beds of late are a little more full than normal, though most of the injuries are still not /too/ bad. One of them, however, is worse than most: Donavon is stretched out on one cot, stomach bandaged carefully. For the moment, he seems half-asleep, dozing off as the healers bustle between the patients on either side of him. He's made an effort, at least prior to his injury, to spruce himself up a little: he's shaved and cut his hair and donned new, nice-looking clothes that make him less recognizable. He almost looks respectable.
Yawn. Evening. That means she's done working. Aida, being the good little patient that she is, does wander into the infirmary, a T'zen in tow. Rather than promptly heading for one of the healers though, she instead takes a detour, heading for the duty roster with a general 'yes, I am supposed to be doing this' sort of air. Most of the healers are used to seeing her enough that this is no problem. "If I'm lucky," she observes, tone one of idle conversation, "Then they'll pull off the splint today." She's hoping. There has not yet been an inspection of the people in the beds, though if routine follows through its typical paces, that will come shortly.
It's easier when he's following somebody who "belongs" in the infirmary. Namely, Aida. T'zen watches the other healers, relieved he's not really being watched. "I'm sure yer lookin' forward to that," T'zen replies. He can't help but glance at the numbweed shelves, smirking to himself as he notes they're all fully stocked. Ripe for the picking. He itches at his hand idly as he continues to tail the young woman.
The loud talking of healer to an elderly, hard-of-hearing man a cot over from Donavon drags him unhappily from his half-asleep state, and he fixes the pair with a glower before, with only a slight wince at the movement to his stomach, he starts to sit up. One of the other healers, though, quickly presses him back down with an admonishment, but glaring past him, he can't miss the entrance of two people who don't quite fit in with the usual healer crowd. He blinks and stares and barely keeps the surprise off his face. Quickly, he gestures to the noisy pair and sends the zealous young healer to shush them, while he slinks lower in his bed again, lips pursing in thought.
The roster is grabbed, Aida flipping through it quickly to a point she's well familiar with; there's only a moment spent in study before she nods to herself and smiles, setting it back aside. Another look up to T'zen, and then to his hand, and she gives him a raised-eyebrow look before she slips towards the cots again, her attention primarily focused on the various healers, but wandering over those resting, as well. "It at least means I won't get glowered at for taking it off any more?" There's an impish smile sent up towards T'zen. Those eyes are going to catch on Donavon soon if they keep up in the path they're taking.
T'zen snickers. "You've not been keeping yer splint on?" He'd be reproving, except it's too amusing. He now starts observing the various people in cots, healing from scores and other injuries. He starts pouting a bit. "You ain't planning on stayin' here long, are ya?" he says, now eyeing the dragons nearby, one with a nasty looking score along her hide. "Ya think you'd be able to conjure up some more o' that stuff for my hand.. if you are?"
Think quickly, Donavon. He frowns, cuts his eyes toward the loud healer again, slithers lower still into the covers. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he says peevishly, "Some of us are trying to sleep," and promptly slides the pillow across his face. Problem solved. Maybe?
That voice. Aida shifts on her feet a bit, casting a look over in the direction of where she heard Donavon's voice from, all sorts of tension creeping into her frame in an instant. She stares for a long moment, studying the form of the...man with the pillow over his face. No immediate freak out reaction; instead, she gives a little shake of her head, starting to wander over that'away with that same casual pace of hers. "I could; or I'll just ask one of the healers to get it for you," she explains. "It's not /too/ hard of a mix to make, and it's better than numbweed. And no, I've been keeping it on /most/ of the time, but I took it off for baths and things. I always put it back on right, but...well, people are silly." More idle conversation, even if her eyes are now intent.
That something has caused Aida some tension is missed by T'zen, who's already uncomfortable just being in the place of the wounded. "Ah.. whichever, I suppose," he sighs. "Seems I'm finding more reasons to visit this shardin' place anyway."
Donavon doesn't move, just continues trying to muffle out sound or light or maybe just that stare fixed right on him.
Detouring briefly to grab what is probably Donavon's chart, Aida stops long enough to scan it, to see what precisely has been written down about that particular patient. Not that she expects there to be a name she recognizes. "There's nothing wrong with this place," she points out absently for T'zen, shaking her head. "They do good work here." The chart is discarded, and with a glance to mark which healers are where, she finishes the trek over towards the cot with the man who has the pillow over his face. "T'zen? Do me a favor? Be ready, huh?" Still, light and idle. Thud. That would be her, dropping down to sit on the edge of it down by his feet. "Hullo," she greets the pillow.
T'zen watches Aida take interest this this person's chart, and then actually sit on the cot while the man continues to hold a pillow over his face. He raises his brows. This cryptic comment is not as discernable as the flirty ones. He steps in beside Aida, saying, "Ah.. for what?" He peers at the pillow, and points. "Ah.. he's not trying to do himself in, is he?"
No answer. Donavon doesn't speak, doesn't peek out for several long seconds. He does, though, helpfully shift his feet over to keep them from getting sat on. "Hi," is his gruff, pillow-muffled greeting after a few more moments.
No. No, Aida, you cannot reach over there and shove the pillow harder down onto his face, tempting as it might be. It looks for a moment like the young woman is contemplating this, eying the pillow and the man beneath it and all of this with narrowed eyes that have something distinctly off in them...but she does manage to resist. The return greeting, when it does come, has her nodding sadly. "He might be," she tells T'zen, and she reaches over to grab the pillow, attempting to pull it off of Donavon's face.
T'zen has his hands ready now, expecting that he's about to help Aida pull off a pillow. But he waits, seeing if she's successful first.
Donavon knows when he's caught, but he's not abandoning the charade just yet. He doesn't fight when Aida pulls the pillow away, instead fixing her and T'zen with a bland little smile raising one hand to rub his clean-shaven cheek. "You know, miss, most of the healers around here keep telling me to sleep," he points out. "Not that it's easy with people talking and light glaring and things sitting on my feet."
Once the pillow is tugged away, she sets it down into her lap, regarding Donavon with an even stare. "It's not a good idea for you to sleep with a pillow over your face," she explains solemnly, offering the pillow back out to the man only once this has been said. She does her best to hide the light of recognition in her eyes -- her shoulders were already tight as they can possibly be, so extra tension there doesn't give her away. "You could accidentally suffocate." Because she's concerned for his safety. Really. It's with complete innocence that she turns her gaze up towards T'zen, and introduces lightly, "T'zen -- this is my good friend Donavon, I know I've told you about him. Donavon, this is T'zen." Beam.
Poor T'zen. Nobody gives anything to him straight. He's gotta use his brain muscle to figure out what Aida just said. "Right. Donavon. You have?" 'Cause his brain's registering a Donavon, but not a 'good friend' Donavon. And so it's a full two seconds of looking at Aida's beaming face and tight shoulders in silence before it finally clicks. And only then does he look back at Donavon, his eyes now narrowed, and mouth set. "Donavon. Riight." And since he's so subtle, there's his hand resting casually on his belt knife. "Changed my mind. I'm likin' the infirmary now." And now the man is smirking, with those narrowed eyes.
"Appreciate the concern," Donavon drawls easily as he takes his pillow back and makes a big show of fluffing it and finally placing it back beneath his head where it belongs. For T'zen, he has a saccharine smile. "Good to meet you, too, T'zen. Heard a lot about you myself I have. Doing well tonight, both of you?" To go along with his respectable look, he's got a new, respectable way of speaking, for all the good that lie will do him now.
Sliding back up to her feet once T'zen has finally gotten the clue, Aida gives a little stretch. She leans in as if to press a kiss to T'zen's cheek, but doesn't follow through with the motion, just chirps, "Keep him here?" quietly. With that little bit said, and not another glance for Donavon, she winds her way away from the cots, heading in the direction of the tunnel into the area. Time to fetch a guard or ten.
The aunties are going to be all over them now, what with this ploy for passing information. T'zen nods, his smirk bordering on triumphant, as he watches the man in the cot. "Eh.. you look like someone from Caucus," he says as Aida leaves, his hand resting on his sheathed knife, and the other resting on the edge of the cot. "Figures. So how'd you end up here, Donavon? Lousy spot to hide, it is."
"So. T'zen," says Donavon conversationally. "You're the one weyrmated to that weyrling. The one all cozy with R'vain." This seems mostly to fix the idea in his own mind, for it's absently said and then dismissed. "Oh, really? Yes, I'm supposed to be. I go by Dariel, though--I'm afraid the girl got it a little wrong," he continues wryly. "As for--well." A gesture to his bandaged stomach. "I stuck my nose into some of this business here late, and it backfired, so to speak. Your girl got stampeded on," he adds another non sequitor.
Too bad Aida's not present to caution Donavon against provoking the wild T'zen beast. No, she's stepped out into the halls and grabbed the closest passing person. "I need you to fetch the guard for me," she demands softly, eyes wide and worried. "Hurry!" A shake, and she's letting go, only to watch to make sure they're bolting off on this task before she turns back around to pace lazily back towards that particular cot.
The man sure knows how to get on T'zen's good side. He steps in closer, his smirk lost again at the mention of R'vain. "Well," he says, eyeing the bandaged stomach. "She certainly recognized a voice and face. Can't be all wrong." He reaches out a hand over the man's stomach, hovering over those bandages. "Must hurt, that. Be right curious what sorta business gets you hurt. What do you know 'bout Tav gettin' trampled, /Donavon/?" Hand hovering threateningly, his other more firmly grasped on the hilt of his knife.
Donavon continues to smile disarmingly up at the man. "That nasty business? Nothing, really. But I was close, I'll tell you that much. Close to finding out," he admits, cocking a smirk then as he gestures again to his stomach, eyes never leaving T'zen. He doesn't seem particularly afraid to be in that situation, but there's definitely a degree of wariness beneath the glib exterior.
Wander, wander, wander. Aida slides up to T'zen's side again, reaching up to rest a hand lightly upon the man's shoulder as she draws up. It's not a restraining touch, though it is likely meant to still the urges that might move him to pulling the knife he grasps so threateningly. Cold eyes are leveled on Donavon, no attempt made now to hide the hatred lurking there.
"Close, eh?" He flicks the hovering hand at the man's stomach, connecting with a snap over the bandages. "You know somethin'? Spill it. I knows someone started that stampede. Be not so good if I think it's you.. considering how much yer talkin' 'bout my /girl/!" The knife hasn't left its sheath, and T'zen glances over to see who's just touched his shoulder, noting Aida only briefly before glaring at Donavon.
"Guards on their way?" Donavon glances sideways at Aida with another smile for the look in her eyes. He doesn't answer T'zen, only fixes him with another too-sweet grin.
"Guards on their way," Aida agrees lightly, increasing the pressure of her hand upon T'zen's shoulder. Squeeze. "He's just trying to rile you up, T'zen. Don't take the bait; it's not worth it. He'll soon enough be staked out for Thread as well." Perfectly calm, that notation -- the words are even given a reassuring note.
Ignored. T'zen's definitely allowing himself to be riled up. He stares at the man. "Staked out for Thread doesn't give me shardin' /answers/!" And this time, it's a fist coming down on the Donavon's stomach, clearly intended to hit the sore spot under the bandages. And then he leans into the man after that hit, ignoring whatever reaction it causes around him. "Bit of luck finding you like this. Mark my words, I'm findin' the rest o' you. If I thought you were the /one/, I'd've slit your throat right now. But it sounds like you've a notion who did start that stampede.."
E'sere shrugs. "Maybe," he concedes the point. "Maybe not. We'll see when those guards dr--" He can't help the pained wince that escapes when T'zen hits him, though he grinds his teeth together to prevent further exclamations. He forces another smile for the bluerider, though even his acting abilities can't make it remotely warm. "I'll talk to the guards," he declares. "Nobody else."
Oh. Oh! Aida tries to grab hold of T'zen tighter when he lunges, but she's just not quite quick enough. "T'zen!" She hisses promptly, voice holding a note of a demand though she's trying to keep it quiet. Her arms both attempt to go around one of his, and the young woman digs her heels in (so to speak) as she tries to drag him a few paces back away from the cot. "He's no good to us if you kill him." See Aida. See Aida try to latch onto T'zen's arm as if her life depended on it. Her eyes do promptly swing around the area, noting the healer that has caught sight of the scene and is now heading this way. Given the lack of rush, apparently the man didn't see the /hit/, but has noted that there is some sort of conflict happening all the same.
Jensen enters from the living cavern.
Jensen has arrived.
Tavaly enters through the tunnel that leads from the bowl.
Tavaly has arrived.
"Right. 'Course yer talking to the guards." He flicks at glance at the struggling Aida on his arm. See T'zen completely ignore that attempt to pull him away from the man on the cot. And it better not be that snotty healer that's coming over. The bluerider might just slug him too. He's leaning fist into the man's injured stomach. "Just maybe you won't last long enough to see them guards, eh? Who's got it in for us, eh? Who's not after Igen, but /us/?"
Donavon is currently lounging in his cot in the infirmary, stomach bandaged. He stares up at T'zen and Aida, the pair clustered around him threatening, for all he's trying to force a nice smile that's more grimace as T'zen doesn't let up on him. "Think you can make me talk?" he says, cold but breathless. "Keep trying and I won't give you anything."
"T'zen!" Aida barks, this time, giving up on pulling and instead bringing a foot in to stamp on one of T'zen's feet. Good thing she hasn't traded in her stompy boots for the little slippers yet. "/Stop it/." The stomp is followed by her attempting to shoulder into him, using the full force of her body weight to shove him off of Donavon, and /towards/ the now-in-range healer who is also moving to grab the bluerider. There are others looking now, and it appears that momentarily the rider might just get swarmed. Violence, infirmary, no, these things don't go together.
Doesn't take long for whatever messenger was sent to find who they were looking for. The sound of boots on stone precedes the two men that enter the infirmary. They're both tall and lean and scruffy. One of them is Jensen, the other is Vej with his arm in a sling. Jen's only a moment in figuring out what's going on here, and he's quick to act. He steps in, shoves himself in between T'zen and Donavon and untangles any hands that might still be gripping or punching, one hand balled around the bluerider's collar, the other flat against Donavon's chest. And since Aida's got T'zen off in the direction of someone who can keep him in check, the Captain will then ask, in a very calm voice, "Report?" Vej, for his part, is standing at Jen's side, ready.
Assaulted from all sides.. Aida, Jensen, and now other arms coming in from the healer and other visitors to restrain the bluerider. "He knows, Jensen!" T'zen yells. "I swear he knows who started that stampede what got Tavaly!" And now the man's snarling at the restraint, taking his sweet time to relax. But with the guards here, he already knows his turn is done.
Donavon, for his part, only forces a mildly less pained version of his smirk as T'zen is dragged away. "I know. I'll make you a deal, Captain," he says evenly to the guard.
"Oh, good! At least someone around here knows." Comes another voice. Hey, speak of the devil. Entering from the dragon side, Tav is, it looks like, on her way to visit healers, herself. "T'zen, could you come over here, please? I.. uh.." Restraining? What the crap is going on? "Need your help." She ends, decisively. Yes.
Shove, shove, shove -- and into the healers' waiting arms. Aida stops once somebody bigger and stronger has ahold of T'zen, puffing relief -- when she sees Tavaly, this increases a great deal. Relief. She takes a moment to catch her breath, and then whirls away from the restrained bluerider, attention locking upon Jensen. "He's Donavon, sir," she explains, voice flat, words clipped. "The one who was in charge of the men who took me, responsible for Leyron's murder, the thefts, and the threatening and hurting of various individuals around the Weyr." So emotionless, as she rattles it all off. "Sir. He was also alluding to either knowing who attacked Tavaly, or having been responsible for it himself. I lean towards the second, Sir."
Jensen listens with a subdued sort of patience to, well, everyone at once. He's always been good at multilistening. Of course, after Aida's accounting, he does hold his other hand up for silence. And he better get it. "Tavaly," His voice is quite gentle indeed when addressing his little sister, and he hides the concern he has for her well, "Keep that bluerider in hand." If anyone can do it, she can. "Or I'll have Vej do it, and he ain't so cuddly." A pause, as he regards the man in the cot. Donavon. "You caused me no small amount o'trouble in the past few sevens, and I'm sure you're aware o'that." His hand clenches around the man's shoulder. "I don't make deals with criminals. But you are gonna do some talkin'. Seein' as how you're a bit roughed up, this is as good a place as any. Aida, I want you'n the rest o'the infirmary's staff reignin' in any o'those don't belong in here. If they ain't bedridden, I want 'em out."
"Now you're just guessing," Donavon says idly to Aida. "The only thing you know--and that I'll admit to--is arranging to have you kidnapped. And I had absolutely nothing to do with the attacks on--" he gestures to Tavaly, then to his own wound. "I'm as much victim here as anybody else. I want to see this person caught, too--I'd kill her myself if I could get my hands on her again. But as I can't..." He lifts his shoulders, suppressing another wince at the aggravated state of his knife-wound. "You'll deal, captain. I know who's behind Sian, Tavaly, E'sere, Roa, you... It's all the same person. I'll give you the name--/if/ you agree to just exile me. That's all. You get rid of me, I get the satisfaction of knowing you'll get rid of her. Win-win."
"Leggo, I'm leavin'," T'zen mutters, and gets his wish, though the others are making sure to hem in the way back to Donavon, just in case. He's too distraught to even hear what the man on the cot is saying, despite the relative quiet commanded by Jensen. Perhaps it's the noise from everyone being ushered out. T'zen stalks past Tavaly, and can't even bring himself to look at her. "Almost had 'im," he says simply, before adding, "I'm goin' flyin'." And stalking out the door.
T'zen goes home.
T'zen has left.
Eyes follow the departure of the bluerider, and in them gleam a moment's torment. Chase after and comfort, or stay and get the blasted stitches adjusted.. and potentially find out the badguy's name. The pronoun, however, decides it all for Tav. "Her?" The greenrider asks, switching back over. Finding Aida among the crowd, Tav rises from the chair she'd dumped herself into and makes a valiant trek over to the girl on the outskirts of the ring-around-a-dead-guy.
"Yes, sir," Aida responds quietly, giving a dip of her head. There's a look leveled towards Donavon on the cot, open hatred -- but perhaps surprisingly, she does not promptly argue his words. But then, Jensen already has heard her stories that support the claims she just made. Instead, she turns away, lifting her chin and moving off just a bit. "Alright, you heard the man," she states, voice lifted so that it will carry. "Everybody out who can get out." There's a sidelong glance for Tavaly, a thin smile, and she just holds up a hand that way. 'One moment please', that gesture says. And so she starts herding people, actually chasing out some of the healers and assistants along with the rest of the non-staff. Probably the gossipy ones. There are benefits to having worked in here as long as she did. The bluerider and his exit are apparently ignored.
"I know it's all the same person. So don't think you're doin' me any big favors pointin' that out. Now, as for you knowin' who that person is, you might. But I think you don't. Man who wants t'deal is a man at the end of his rope. You're desperate." Jensen hasn't checked yet on whether or not his orders are being carried out. He does know T'zen is gone, because that exit was fairly well announced, but his focus is on Donavon and, well, Donavon. He leans in while Vej stands and scans the room, watching his Captain's back. "So let's talk. You'n me. What's with the death wish?"
"Her," confirms Donavon easily. "And desperate? I don't know about that. I could let you stake me out for Thread if you want--wouldn't call it a death wish, but it wouldn't bother me too much. But I want to see this person caught, and I don't give anything for free, so. Far as I'm concerned, you're still coming out way ahead. But if you don't want to know, so be it. I'm sure you'll catch her. Eventually," he says patronizingly. "Maybe after she kills a few more people."
"Yes, I understand you've a patient to see to, but I also know they're not in an immediate need," Aida tells one of the healers agreeably as she's shuffling him out. "This won't take too very long." Out he goes, and she directs two of the younger aides to stand watch and intercept people coming in; a few more are shuffled out. Shuffle shuffle. Out they go. It really doesn't take that long, once everybody catches on, and soon enough she's circling back to the cot with the man of the hour upon it. Huff.
"Only people on that island are exiles from the rebellion. And you weren't part o'the instigators, seein' as how you're here. I could get you sent off to some other island, but it'd be one for criminals. Fellas that like t'kidnap girls, steal 'em away from their homes. Wouldn't have me sleepin' any less easy thinkin' o'you bein' eaten up by Thread either." Jensen smiles, unkindly, and lifts his eyebrows. "So how about you drop the better'n me act and try again. For one thing, you're one t'talk about murderin' folks. I imagine if things hadn't gone your way with Aida here you wouldn't've thought twice about killin' her." He holds up a forefinger. "/I/ think I'll get the name from you and then send you wherever I feel like. How's that sound for a plan?"
"Hey, Jen. We could always do to 'im what pa used to do when he caught stablehands stealin'." Tav pipes from outside the ring, ice-daggers streaming from her eyes to the cot. Like a Hallmark card of DOOM!
"That's fine by me," agrees Donavon. "I don't really give a damn what island you put me on, considering I'll probably fit right in with whatever criminals are around there now. And better than you? Nah, no such illusions, /Captain/. Me, no, course I wouldn't have thought twice. I'm just a common criminal, right? But that don't mean you have to be stupid and disregard everything I have to say. She hurt me; I want to see her done up right just as much as you do. And you aren't getting that name any other way, so."
Silence, from Aida. Her designated task accomplished, she ghosts up to the cot, finding a spot right up nearby to stand, where she's not going to be in the way. The young woman watches impassively, her hands folded lightly behind her back once she's settled herself in. The hatred has at least been tucked away where it isn't visible, and...she stands there. Her attention does leave every once in a while to skirt around and over those still in the infirmary.
Jensen's brow furrows. That's something of a surprise. He's distracted very briefly by Tavaly's comment, but though he smirks he doesn't respond. "That sorta brings me back to that whole death wish thing. But hey, 'm sure you'll have all kinds o'fun things t'do out there. I hear it's real nice. Arts and crafts and things. Until the whole gruesome death part." He pauses, head tilted as he watches Donavon's face very, very closely. His voice is pitched low when he next speaks. "You lie t'me about this, I'll make you regret it." HIs mood shifts in the next instant and he grins boyishly. "So!" There's a reason some people think he's a little unhinged. "You wanna whisper it into my little ear? 'Cause it's about time."
"Not really your concern, now is it? What happens after you drop me off?" Donavon notes easily. "And I'm not telling you until I'm on that island safe-like. Otherwise, you can just renege on me and leave me out for Thread here. And I'd much rather it get me off in my little island paradise, if it's got to. Go grab one of your riders right now, if you want, and I'll go, quite willingly. You can even come along for the ride if you want me to tell you personally, captain." He smirks.
"We could always take Immath." Tav chimes in in a nonchalant air, now standing behind Aida with one hand on the girl's shoulder. For comfort. "She /looooves/ passengers."
"Someone who /knows/ where they're going?" interjects Donavon long-sufferingly. "You don't expect me to believe they tell every weyrling girl /green/rider out there how to get there do you?"
Tavaly grins maliciously, her face half hidden over Aida's shoulder. "That's if you get there. Vast ocean, and all."
Most people, there'd be shrugging off of that hand. Except it's Tavaly, and Aida will accept comfort from that quarter. So in response to the hand when it goes on her shoulder, she shifts on her feet just enough to let her lean in against the greenrider's side. Her eyes stay on Donavon, her expression still flat -- numb, really. It's a good bet that she's wondering why she stopped T'zen, rather than urging him to grab the knife and finish the job that somebody else started. Lean.
"If by that y'mean I don't /care/, then you're so right." Jensen takes a deep breath, in through his nose very slowly, and lets it out just as. He gives Donavon a very long, very deep stare, then turns his head just so, so he can look over at Vej. The other guard nods, steps in to take Jen's place when he turns around to walk over to Aida. He folds his arms, flicks a glance at Tavaly, levels a look on Aida, and asks in a low murmur, "Is he healthy enough to travel?"
The question from Jensen has Aida lifting a brow slightly. She nestles in closer against Tavaly's side as if seeking further comfort, but a beat later she's straightening away from the other girl. "I'll have to check," she explains softly, moving to skirting a step around Jensen to head for the cot and the wounded man there.
Donavon just lies there with an easy smirk as he gets his way, eyes tracking Aida as she approaches. "Have at," he encourages her with another gesture to the bandaged wound. While it was relatively severe when it happened, a number of stitches and not quite a week of healing have helped fix him up, the injured flesh gradually beginning to repair itself.
Vej is standing much the same way Jensen is, arms folded, straight and tall, except his steady stare is on Donavon. When Aida comes up the man doesn't move, but you can bet he's keeping an even closer eye on things. Just in case. Jen, meanwhile, looks at Tavaly again, and for just that one moment he tries to let her know how worried he is without saying anything at all. Because he can't. Not right now. He turns then, returning to the side of Donavon's cot so he can oversee.
Easily meeting her brother's gaze, the white fury coiled about Tav's pupils probably aren't a fantastic comfort. She raises her chin ever so slightly, though, before he glances away. She's here. She's right behind him. "Do we have anything to bind his hands with?" She asks, looking between Vej, her brother, and various others. "The last thing we'd need is for him springing loose adragonback."
Smoothly moving to lower herself to sit on the edge of the cot, Aida is without expression as she carefully moves to tug the bandages up as she would for any other patient she's tending. The attempt is made, at least, to cause as little discomfort as possible. It's inspected thoroughly, poked at here and there. "Do you have any other wounds?" She asks of the man softly, tucking the bandages back into place as she reaches her fingers to his neck, pressing them against the strongest pulse point. "How does your head feel?" Count, count, count the pulse. At least she's already looked at the notes on his condition, so she doesn't have to repeat that step.
"Nope, that's it, though thanks for the concern," Donavon says, grinning still as he shakes his head once; he bites the inside of his cheek to stop a pained sound only once as she pokes and prods at him. "My head? My head's fine, nothing wrong with it. So, what's the verdict? I'm surprised--wouldn't expect you to care whether I'm fit to fly or not." Pause. "Though, I guess you got to keep telling yourself you're the good guys, huh?"
"Should be somethin' in the barracks. Vej, could you, uh-" "On it, Cap'n." And with that the big man is out of sight, disappearing into the hallway outside the infirmary. Jensen continues to watch Aida's examination with a detached sort of attentiveness. She can do her work, and he'll watch Donavon like something that watches good. "Ain't about bein' good guys. It's about you not dyin' on the way to the island I'm stickin' you on. I want my name." Afterall, they /are/ putting him on an island of certain death. The point of caring was about four miles back that way. Vej returns, shackles in hand. He hands the key off to the Captain, who takes it and glances at Aida. "All set?"
Obligingly, Donavon even holds out his hands to Jensen, sitting up now, though this time his pained expression is blatant. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he glances to Aida and takes the opportunity of her proximity to murmur for her ears only: "By the way, Katric sends his best." Smirk.
"Shackles? Honestly, have you never tried to detain a snake. Rope, man!" Tav says, shaking her head. "If he squirms, it's got to /burn/. We're dealing with a kidnapper and a gutless tunnel snake, not a common market thief." The greenrider advances, gently patting Vej on the shoulder. "Check the store room. There's a particlarly ragged piece of thornwood twine in there." She's close enough to hear the aside to Aida, and instantly the contained beast allows a brief interlude into the light. One of Tav's hands lash out at the wounded man's face. "Do not /ever/ speak to her again."
Apparently satisfied with whatever it is his pulse is telling her, Aida starts to withdraw, only to freeze for an instant at the murmur. When Tavaly's hand lashes out, her own darts up to attempt to catch the greenrider's wrist before contact is made, reflexive in the motion of the defense of -- however briefly -- her patient.
Ach. Caught. Tav's features, contorted by raw hate, swerve in confusion toward Aida and, for a moment, she is frozen, the chords running through her wrists pulsating once, briefly. Energy unspent. She leans forward and kisses the girl's forehead before withdrawing. For her sake. "I've two hands. Remember that next time." Said as a friend to a friend. Softly and without malice. The greenrider steps back out of respect for the healer.
Well that certainly went from going okay to going pretty badly, pretty quick. Jensen is replying to Tavaly, "No, it's shackles, it ain't a concern o'-... Damnit, Tavaly!" Aida is faster. Once that wrist is caught Jen tenses, glares at his sister. "You're gonna leave this room and you're gonna leave it now if you can't keep yourself. Gimme those." He grabs the metal restraints from Vej and sets to fastening the shackles around Donavon's wrists. "I got absolutely no patience for your antics right now," he's muttering. Then, once the locks are clicked into place, he pockets the key and hauls Donavon up by an arm. "Let's go. Vej, you're in front. Aida, you're walkin' in back with me. Donavon here'll be our buddy in the middle. And Tavaly, do somethin' constructive and ask Immath to rouse R'saro's." Vej is already headed out the door, and Jen is pushing Donavon to follow.
"Call off your watchwher?" suggests Donavon boredly, eyeing Tavaly with a quirked brow for her attack. He snorts, offering Aida one last amused smirk as she stops the greenrider before he turns attention back to the guard. When hauled up so roughly, he grimaces but remains silent, catching his balance uneasily with his hands bound. Walking slowly and carefully so as to not trip and plant his face in the stone, he follows Vej out to the bowl.
Loosening her grip promptly, Aida fixes numb eyes up on Tavaly after she's kissed on the forehead. "I knew this time," she points out softly, and then she's rising and getting out of the way, ghosting off to the side to wait for the procession to move and falling in to move at Jensen's side. Oh, those cheeks are now so very colorless. She is at least not wavering on her feet. "He can travel," she does note mechanically, once she's walking. "It won't kill him. Going Between will make the injury worse, but it is not likely that it will kill him. It is a possibility that such a worsening will eventually lead to his death, and as such I am required to recommend against it."
"Oh, I got a score of bruises an' scrapes, a twice bad shoulder, messed up foot, and days away from drills that I got owed me, big brother. Not even you can deny me this." The girl states, much subdued by Aida's catch, but not about to let Jensen bully her out of this. Never again. "R'saro and his are waiting." She says, then, eyes pivoting outward. Toward the bowl. She waits, then. Turning to Aida.
"Thanks," Donavon drawls back over his shoulder toward Aida, his smirk dry. When the little parade finally arrived out in the bowl, without any stumbles or escape attempts, R'saro and his bronze are indeed waiting, the older bronzerider looking morose for the upcoming trip to the islands, his second in four days. Donavon eyes him in return as they come to a halt, and R'saro studies the motley assemblage for several seconds before he finally asks, "Will you be coming as well, captain?"
Jensen walks with one hand on his knife's handle, the other hanging at his side but ready. Aida's words, though heard, are given no reply. He knows. And as for Tavaly, well, she'll probably be getting a talking to at some point not /now/. He doesn't seem to mind if she comes along though. And, when they all finally make their destination, he affirms R'saro with a nod. "That I will. Just me. Somethin' needs doin' 'fore we go. Aida." He grabs Donavon's shoulder with one hand, steers him around so he's facing the Captain and the once-healer girl. He then steps in behind the captive, grabs his arms. "Remember that day we were in the barracks, I had you hit that bag? Well it didn't do a thing t'you. This man stole you." "Cap'n-" "Vej. He /took/ you. And I want you t'show 'im what you think o'that."
Donavon's brows arch slightly at those words but he doesn't protest, only turns to regard Aida with a bland smirk, eyes expressionless. R'saro opens his mouth to protest as well, then shuts it again, folding his arms across his chest unhappily.
Trudge, trudge, trudge. Aida stops when the others do, glancing off to the side; it's Jensen's saying her name that draws her attention back, numb eyes setting up on his face, rather than on Donavon. It takes her a few moments to register what's being said -- first, there's shock, in reaction. It has her staring wide-eyed for just an instant, and then her eyes swing to Donavon. Not two heartbeats later she's stepping forward, hands curling into proper hitting fists. There's no apparent anger there in her gaze, just cold hatred and calculation as she regards him, and then she just nods her agreement to Jensen's request. The first fist is aimed at an angle towards the man's nose, attempting to break it, and the second one comes up to try and land at the worst spot of the wound on his stomach. Third is the knee that comes up to attempt and nail him between the legs. Maximum pain, minimal effort. Efficiency in action.
"That's enough," R'saro says at once, stepping in to grab the unfortunate Donavon when he crumples. He says coldly, "We don't attack our helpless prisoners. I'll be speaking to the Weyrleader about this, captain." He stares at the man and girl, then carefully starts moving a dazed, obviously hurt Donavon to his bronze, lifting him carefully; the dragon, eyes whirling yellow-orange, crouches as low as he can to help his aging rider get the younger man aboard and strapped in. Then, in an equally frosty tone, the wingleader glances back to Jensen after he's mounted behind the captive, helping to support him. "Captain."
And Jensen disregards the disapproval in whatever forms it takes. He's doing this, and those who know him know when he's set to doing something it gets done. His arms have curled around Donavon's, hands locked behind his back so as to provide the most stabilizing he can as those strikes find their marks. Bam, bam, /bam/. When R'saro steps in Jen backs off easily. "Can't wait t'hear from 'im." Since Donavon's being taken care of, sort of, Jen turns to Aida and gives her a Look. He'll be back. "Yeah," is answer enough to his summons. He turns, helps himself up to a seat - it's a process too, one that he doesn't look at all comfortable with - and waits for that lurchy off the ground feeling.
There's no further attempt to continue the violence, especially given that Donavon crumples. Aida simply lowers her fists and steps back, bringing one hand up to study her knuckles with a far, far too mild regard. The cold is gone, now -- ooo, look. Knuckles, how curious. She looks up in time to catch Jensen's look, offers him a slight little smile. A nod, but no words. Instead, she just shifts on her feet to start trudging back towards the infirmary, casting a raised eyebrow sort of look towards Tavaly as she heads that-away. Coming? It's not spoken, though.
R'saro's bronze makes the take-off as easy as possible, less for Jensen's comfort than for his other passengers'; he still looks as furious as his rider as they climb higher and finally blink /between/, reappearing seconds later over the chain of islands in the west. He spirals lower over one in particular, finding landing along its shoreline. It's quite possibly the same one he visited just four days prior: it still bears footprints high up on the sand, and even the marks of a dragon's claws. Very carefully, R'saro unstraps himself, sliding down and bringing the near-unconscious prisoner with him. Donavon is laid on the sand as comfortably as the wingleader can make him; he's entirely ignoring Jensen now.
Between is not Jensen's best friend. Whatever disgruntlement he felt before has just been doubled. He's rather pale when they emerge, in the sickly way, and fights a bit of a battle with whatever meal he had last as it tries to say hi. When landing is accomplished he does the unbuckling and things for himself, gets down onto the beach, walks up to where Donavon's been laid. He spares a glance for R'saro, says nothing to the bronzerider as he crouches down next to the prone man. "My end's done. Your turn."
Back in the infirmary, Aida sets about the task of putting things back to rights -- the two aides set to watching are instead sent to let people know they can come back, and then she's even being nice and sheeting the cot that Donavon was on, getting it all cleaned up and ready for a new patient. La la la. Nothing to see here. Back to normal.
Donavon's mouth moves wordlessly for a moment before he finally grates out hoarsely, "Peria. Peria, the knitter. She--the thefts, all faked. Wasn't my group. Throw off suspicion. She's--" he coughs, painfully, turning his head enough to spit out some of the blood from his nose that's run down. R'saro stands frigidly nearby, arms crossed over his chest while Donavon continues, "In love with R'vain. Sian, Tavaly, Roa--they're all close to him. The others, they're just incidentals. When--when you get her? Tell her I sent you." And that seems to be all he has to say, for his eyes flicker closed, and after studying him a moment longer, R'saro turns back to his dragon. The bronze, still unhappy, bugles once before R'saro moves to calm him.
Jensen listens very closely. He has a knack for remembering. No need to bring writing into this. "Peria." Hm. He leans in, murmurs in a soft voice, "I'd be more worried about stayin' alive, less about what's happenin' on the mainland." Pause. "Just want you t'know I ain't sorry for lettin' her beat on you, but I am sorry for how this ends." He allows himself to linger for a moment longer, then stands and starts striding towards R'saro and lifemate. "Let's go. Imagine I have a series o'long and lecturin' meetings to attend to."
In the infirmary, having given up hopes of following, Tav is sitting quite still. Shoulders bare, the girl sits patiently as an apprentice delicately removes stitches from the wound delivered to her shoulder nigh on five or six nights ago. "Why did you stop me?" She asks, suddenly. The apprentice quirks a brow, but Tav's gaze is, curious, shifted to Aida.
"I'll die happy knowing she won't," Donavon spares the energy for one last retort as his shackles are removed. R'saro, giving him one last look, mounts up, allowing Jensen to do so as well, before he cues his dragon upward again. They climb higher, the bronzerider glancing over his dragon's side several times to look at the man on the beach, as well as to scan the beginnings of forest further inward, before they blink /between/ again back to the Weyr. Several minutes after they've vanished, another head pokes itself out of the undergrowth: Katric, not yet picked up from his drop-spot by the Instigator riders. The former healer hurries down to the beach once the coast is clear, taking the extent of the situation and his former friend quickly before he sets to work. Meanwhile, R'saro's dragon carries his two passengers lower in High Reaches' bowl, allowing them to disembark again. "Captain," says R'saro stiffly before he turns, heading at once toward the Weyrleader's quarters, leaving Jensen to his own devices.