Olliah did not expect Yisketh to peek down with a growl, and she did pause in her ministrations to give the scarred up bronze a surprised look. The bronze dragon certainly could be fierce, as she had witnessed many a time over the Turns, but she had not expected his bout of impatience. Well, she didn't blame the bronze; Thread still fell, and Kienn needed to get back to his wing.
Perhaps the bronze had right to be impatient with her. "Unfortunately, these wounds take a bit more work, but I'm about done here." She finished with the redwort, certain the wound was thoroughly lathered in the stuff. She didn't want K'ienn to risk infection, and with how ugly the wound on his shoulder was, it would well be a risk. "Make sure you get those bandages changed every day for the first sevenday. The Healers will want to ensure there's no infection, and that it's healing and not being torn open."
The woman quickly worked, picking up some gauze to press over the wound, and bandaging it securely to the man. Part of her wished she could do the same to the sudden wound within her own heart and gut; that she could somehow fix whatever was wrong so she might get blessed with the joys of motherhood. And yet... No, she knew that wouldn't be the case.
Once again, K'ienn somehow managed to outperform and outshine. Life seemed to bless the man--whatever he wanted, he managed to get. He had his own Wing, he had his friends and his fans; he had his supporters, he even now had a son. Part of her knew she should be happy for him and yet... She was a woman of rank, but that had never been her dream. It was simply a duty, and one she did not begrudge; surely, she was happy to serve. But her own hopes, her own desires... someone to share her life with, a family to love and tend to... It seemed farther out of reach now than ever. The latter might well be an impossibility.
Mph. But now was not the time to dwell. "There. Try not to rip it open, if you can help it and get it checked by the healers once Thread finishes. Sorry for keeping him, Yisketh." She dipped her head apologetically at the dragon, remorse clear, though not just because she upset the bronze.
Fianth, for her part, did turn to regard the bronze coolly. Be careful up there. I don't want to see you back here. And where it might have been laced with bitterness at any other time, for the moment, she let her words ring sincere. If he was back at the Healers station that meant he was injured. And even Fianth did not wish Threadscore on the bronze. Not when he seemed as irate at his rider as she was. She would give the bronze that much, at least. The sooner K'ienn and Yisketh were back in the air, the sooner her rider could focus on other things and old wounds and hurts could be ignored.
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Yisketh turned his gaze to Olliah, and the redness in it subsided somewhat. He wasn’t cross with her, after all. He settled where he was for the moment, keeping watch through the opening lest his rider become distracted again. K’ienn spent the next few minutes staring at his own hands and counting random groups of items throughout the healers’ tent. By the time Olliah was done, K’ienn’s new jacket had arrived and the Wingleader’s head was back in the clouds, where it belonged. The bronze snorted at the irony.
When Fianth spoke, a tentative yellow-green crept into his facets. He regarded the pale gold with some surprise, wondering what he’d done to receive this genuinely kind word from her. He knew better than to assume it meant anything beyond that. Just a kind word. Perhaps even a pity. How little he must have looked to her, regardless of his rank. He hated to admit it, but next to Krahsujunth… Yisketh was strong and fierce in his own right, but not so… outwardly. And all his victories over the blue, all the battles he’d won, all the flights with Fianth and the hatchlings he’d sired of her—all of it had led to nothing. It only delayed the inevitable. Perhaps he’d been foolish to try and come between them. But no dragon had ever moved his hearts as Fianth had. Perhaps, in time, he would have the strength to be happy that he had that short while with her, when her gentle eyes looked only at a lucky bronze named Yisketh.
I will, he said. There was an unspoken “thank you” in it—a quiet gratefulness that she still had any concern left for the one she no longer loved.
As Olliah finished with the bandages, K’ienn reached back over his shoulder to check where everything was so he’d be able to tell later if it was coming out of place. “Got it. I’ll get it checked. Thanks.” Then on went the shirt, and the jacket, which he was still buttoning when he turned back to Olliah. “And I’ll keep in mind what you said about Falienn. I never thought about what it was like for him in Ruatha. Maybe he’ll tell me if I ask nicely.” He smiled. “You’ve always been good with people. And with me. I appreciate it.” He tilted his head slightly, debating if that had come out awkwardly. “The advice, I mean. And the shoulder. And everything. Everything’s good.”
He did up the last button with a quiet clearing of his throat and a mental grimace. “Gotta get back up there. Thanks, Olliah.”