[PRP] Getting Warmer, or Colder? (K'ienn/Olliah) [Fin]

[Teiha]

Just like that prim little whiterider had reported, the wind picked up for the next day’s fall. If it had been steady, it would have been less troublesome, but the direction of its icy gusts and swells were unpredictable. Less than an hour into it, they were down several more riders and dragons than their usual average due to Threadscore and a rash of burns caused by windblown flames—a few of them riders accidentally flamed by their own dragons. The healer team had set up a heated tent in the bowl for quick and easy access, and the comfort of those who needed treatment.

K’ienn took Yisketh up to get a good overview of the Trespassers’ status, watching for gaps in formation that needed filling while the bronze sent word of the need to their seconds, who in turn quickly sent reinforcements. It was hard not to notice the flash of white hide as a certain small dragon swooped in and out between his fellow wingmembers, admittedly saving a few from a nasty scoring. But, as expected, he quickly petered out and dropped down to rest while his rider assisted the current batch of weyrlings on firestone duty.

The bronzerider watched the younger riders for just a moment, appreciating their practiced competence in their work. Within the next couple of months, they would be something of a buffet for the Wingleaders to choose from to draft into their wings. K’ienn, like all of the other leaders, had his eye on a few likely morsels. He was impressed with C’ryn, but fairly certain that he was already unofficially claimed for the Hurricanes, as well as taking up a slot on every other leader’s shortlist. So he had contented himself with consideration of the brown weyrlings—excluding the vocal nonconformist. The other two were close contenders for his interest. G’ran was a stolid individual who reminded him of D’cimus, while Le’x, though a bit of a woolgatherer during free time, had proven to be quite reliable when on duty. He’d be putting a lot in for both, and then hopefully take at least one.

He tensed as the wind abruptly flung a sizable clump of thread toward one of the Trespassers below. Thankfully, several others also spotted the clump, and their dragons joined with Yisketh in a hasty command: BETWEEN! The endangered rider and dragon instantly disappeared, then reappeared safely in an open area nearby. The scenario was becoming almost routine, it had happened so often that day.

When there was a visible break in the wave, K’ienn and Yisketh flew over their wingriders and dropped down to take point of the formation. Yisketh reveled in facing Thread head on, expertly aiming his flame in concert with the wind’s direction.

From the skies above fell an impressive bundle of writhing silver Thread, more than enough of it to envelop a person in a heartbeat. Man and dragon both saw the clump descending upon them, and the bronze lifted his snout toward it. He was just on the verge of flaming when the wind suddenly blew straight back into them, putting his rider directly in the line of fire. They had a few seconds to make a decision. After a quick back and forth with the greens flying just behind them, they chose not to break formation by going between, instead dropping down a bit, out of the way of the greens, who could flame from a safer angle.

The air above them was filled with fire and smoke enveloped them as the other dragons destroyed the offending clump with prolonged bursts of flame. They’ve gotten all of it, Yisketh reported. When the smoke had been blown clear, they went back into position.

All seemed well, until a dragon cried directly into K’ienn’s mind… just as the white hot pain seared his flesh.

BETWEEN!

----------------

They transferred in over the healers’ station, K’ienn slapping the frozen Thread from the back of his upper arm as if trying to rid it of a swarm of crawlers. Yisketh had barely touched down when his rider dismounted, gripping a strap and sliding down to slow his descent enough to avoid a turned ankle, wanting to get some numbweed as soon as humanly possible. The Threadscore was excruciating.

The Healer who looked at K’ienn’s wound was gruff, and tired. After dealing with the visible scoring with a slathering of numbweed, he jerked the Wingleader around by his shoulders, turning him this way and that. “You’re lucky. The back of your jacket looks like a herdbeast after a dragon’s been at it.” He muttered something quite negative about dragonmen and their heroics before giving K’ienn a shove toward the heated tent. “Get yourself in there, where it’s warm. You’re not going back up without a thorough check… and a new coat. If you’ve managed to avoid frostbite so far, you’ll definitely get it if you fly off dressed like that.”

The statement made the rider realize how cold he really was. There was a definite draft in the region of his shoulderblades.

Our seconds are aware, and have everything under control, Yisketh said, answering the question before K’ienn even asked.

Thanks, Yisketh. I’ll keep this as short as possible. He nodded to the healer and strode into the tent. Inside, individual stations had been set up around the fire that warmed the enclosure. Each was made up of a small table, a bench, and a cot, and a few were set up near large wooden tubs full of water. Those would be emergency dunk tanks for live Thread or freezing riders, as dunking in the lake could prove fatal in such bitter cold. Most of the stations were occupied, so K’ienn took a seat on an empty bench next to one of the tubs, ready to wave over the next available healer.

Masterharper

This turned out unexpectedly long. Please don’t feel pressured to match, LOL! Also, not sure exactly how much freedom Wingleaders have to move around during a fall, I assumed they do some overseeing as well as fight, hopefully I didn’t mess that up.

 

[Masterharper]

Teiha

Your post was just fine! I'm with you in that I believe Wingleaders do some fighting, but they also likely hand over to their Seconds sometimes (either to do some checks, cover another area of the Wing, and/or ensure their Seconds are prepared to handle the pressure in case a Wingleader DOES get incapacitated or has to duck out due to scoring). So yeah, sharing that role and kind of coming and going as needed is likely quite common among Wingleaders and Seconds.

Where exactly were his wounds again? Back of his arm? Back of his shoulder? Both?

It was a bad Threadfall. Olliah's stomach twisted as she moved from one patient to the next -- sometimes a rider, sometimes a dragon, sometimes both. Windy conditions had been reported, and the Wing's were prepared to handle the heavy assault, but this one seemed particularly ominous. The dark-haired woman feared seeing the final report, and knew D'mon would be in a foul mood because of it.

There was no blame, but Olliah had seen some wounds indicate sloppy behavior; she'd already had to set two shoulders, which spoke of carelessness in receiving new fire stone -- the riders hadn't managed to line up to catch the stone properly. In other causes she saw tell-tale signs of riders having their straps too loose or too tight, and another lost part of their ear when Thread got tangled in some fine strands of hair that came free due to a too-loose helmet. All of this on top of the nasty wounds -- dragons and riders taking ash and flame to the face, large patches of Thread getting blown back into riders, and small slivers slamming hard into others. Some injuries during Fall was unavoidable due to the nature of the fight... but D'mon would be doubly irate at those that could have been prevented.

But that was neither here nor there. Alpha and Constellation Flight were fighting, with Star Stone Flight on deck. Nature's Fury was off, their riders able to recuperate based on rotation. While it seemed unnecessary with Threadfall only falling once or twice every ten days, she understood that they needed to all prepare for when Thread fell at its peak. That would be a daily battle, and they would need every rider and dragon, and every moments rest available to them.

Unable to just relax or rest while the Weyr was fighting, Olliah opted instead to turn towards her secondary craft of healing. She had spent long enough as a gold rider to know the basics of dragon healing, and had worked with the healers when she could to know how to help patch up Threadscore and injuries as she could. It was part of their training, and something the dark haired woman took seriously. Zheria never seemed to like the work, but Olliah had always been a natural, or so the Healers liked to say. Getting patched up by Zheria was often a painful affair.

So it was, the time went by busily for the rider. Unlike some Falls, where there were few and in some cases no major injuries, this Threadfall was unpleasant. She moved from patient to patient, tending quickly to those who next needed care. Finishing up with a cross green rider, Olliah washed her hands, dipped them in redwort, and moved to the next settled patient. She came up from behind, noticing immediately that the rider's back was exposed.

"You're going to want to remove th--" She almost choked when she realized exactly who her patient was. Oh Faranth . . . it was K'ienn. Well. Why shouldn't it be? He wasn't infallible. Injury could befall any of them in the Weyr, and it looked like Yisketh and he hadn't been so lucky this time. "--That shirt." She explained, hoping the small stumble wasn't noticed. "I need to check your back, make sure nothing burrowed in." She explained. If it hit him hard enough to eat through his jacket, that didn't necessarily bode well. Between didn't always kill every strand, and if Thread hit hard enough, it could pierce a rider unknowingly.

Please let me know if Yours feels a change or any pain at all. Fianth cordially told Yisketh. Yisketh had a bond with K'ienn, and if he felt any sort of burning, stinging, or searing pain, the dragon might know first and save Fianth and Olliah time.

Olliah quickly picked up a a small tweazer looking instrument so she might better exam the Threadscare and ensure nothing alive remained. Even the smallest of filament could grow into something large, very quickly.
 

[Teiha]

Masterharper

Let’s make it his right tricep and back of the shoulder. Not too awful bad, but painful. He could have a few specks of frostbite or almost-frostbite here and there, too, since he went between and flew down in the wind afterward, possibly exposing sweat to the cold.

Shall I tell Fianth that your heart rate has significantly increased? Yisketh’s tone was pert, almost laughing.

K’ienn gave him a mental shove, unimpressed by the sass. Shall I tell Olliah what you’re thinking about Fianth? He felt the bronze shrinking back in defeat, but still trying valiantly to contain his amusement. “Sure,” he said, and began to shuck his tattered jacket, trying not to grin as he did so. This was a slightly altered version of a reunion scene he had long hoped for, being a little more public than he liked. At any rate, he was quite comfortable disrobing in front of this particular healer, and did so in a slow, almost lazy manner.

He was a little less smug when the jacket came off of his scored shoulder, brushing it and smearing the numbweed, but he managed to refrain from making any vulgar sounds by clenching his teeth. He was more prepared for the pain when the layers underneath came off. Then he piled the clothes next to him and sat, hands clasped against the edge of the bench between his knees, waiting for his exam. It wasn’t his first Threadscore, but as the handful small scars across his torso and arms would show, he’d been quite good at avoiding it thus far. This was certainly the first time he’d had to completely replace a garment, though.

Speaking of… Yisketh, have someone bring down another of my jackets, would you?

Of course.  

[Masterharper]

Teiha

I am totally making this up as I go, because. . . fantasy RP!
-jazzhands- I know there are a ton of super super cray cray medical guides for some of this but I do not have the patience to play Olliah, M.D. like some srz off-sites do. xD Hope that's okay!

Olliah watched as K'ienn removed his jacket, noting that the rider didn't seem to be in any particular rush or hurry. That was at least a good sign -- any pain might have had him scrambling. On the flip side, moving the fabrics also meant any small filaments of Thread might find themselves that much closer to Pernese skin. While Thread could eat a full grown herd beast within minutes, the smaller pieces could take longer and trickier to find.

Any thing she might have said to him, might have felt at seeing him scored -- any emotion would have to be buried. He was just another rider of the Weyr, and needed her complete and utter focus. It would be a disservice to him, and besides... it wasn't as if Olliah hated him.

She had thought she had, and sometimes even tried, but K'ienn was...well... K'ienn. And the Turns had chipped away at the pain, dulled it. As Weyrwoman Second, she had lost any and all ability to scorn him, and now, with all these Turns passed, he was almost just someone she used to know.

. . . almost.

He could be as smug as he wanted to be. Let him be happy with all the glory, all the responsibility, all the rank he desired. Let him rise up to be Weyrleader -- perhaps then he'd finally be content.

For now, it was time to work.

She watched him closely as he stripped, quick to notice the subtle shift of his body language. His jaw tightened, an indication of pain. Well, that was no surprise. He was going to need a better patching than what the previous Healer had given him, and his wounds more properly cleaned. While the Healer had slathered part of K'ienn with numbweed, he had missed much of the man's back. There was a small amount of frostbite she'd need to treat -- but unfortunately, that would need to wait. "This is going to sting," she warned. "The back wound isn't as shallow as it looks. I need to make sure nothing's burrowed and the wounds are fully clear." Burrowed thread was an ugly and nasty surprise. There was already swelling happening on K'ienn's back, but worse, there were signs of ash; that meant some small bits might still be feasting on their host.

She dipped her tool into the redwort, and carefully used it to gently widen one of the deeper wounds on his back. She checked out a few of his open wounds, looking at each wound, taking not of depth, and applying redwort where she could as she assessed it. Numbweed would come later. "Still feeling all right?" She'd ask in her usual gentleness, even as she opened up one of his uglier wounds.

Nice and clinical.

"Was this a direct hit, secondary, or a bit of both, do you know?" She asked. The more information she had about the contraction of the score, the better. If they flew well into a clump, that might result in different score possibilities than if this came from ash or char from another dragon's attack.  

[Teiha]

Masterharper

I ain't here for a degree! I'm here for the awks and lulz! Olliah can do whatever seems right and we'll call it medically sound. XDD heart

She’d warned him it was going to sting, so he was ready. He focused instead on Olliah’s touch, knowing from experience how softly she worked. Any pain just seemed a tiny pinprick, but he found that he would have preferred her to be harsher, if it meant she might actually speak full sentences to him. What was she up to these days, he wanted to ask. It stung much more than her poking about his open wounds when he realized that he really had no idea. They had been in the same space many times since he took on a Wingleader’s knot, at leadership meetings, celebration events, and the like. Those occasions never really offered a chance to talk about personal things, and certainly never allowed for one on one conversation. Not with so many social and administrative demands on the both of them. At least, he hoped that was it. At any rate, he hadn’t been purposely trying to avoid her.

Everything was just dandy until that wound was disturbed, causing him to inhale sharply and tense up. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain still and let the woman work. He was thankful that he had listened to the crotchety Healer outside even though he hadn’t felt anything amiss once the numbweed had been applied. He had much pride, sometimes too much, admittedly—but he wasn’t foolish.

At Olliah’s question, K’ienn went into his mind for a few moments with Yisketh, who gathered information from the witnesses. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to gather. “Most likely secondary, but no one saw exactly what happened. A large clump got flamed above us, and when the smoke cleared, my jacket already looked like eye cheese.” He shrugged his good shoulder, his next words spoken half to Olliah, and half to Yisketh. “I’d guess they missed a bit of it, after all.”  

[Masterharper]

Teiha

Into the dunk tank with you! Up to you if you want it to be an oops moment, or if you want him to legit have been almost lunch. xD

Olliah continued to work, checking to make sure each wound was clear of any small fragments of living Thread. Thankfully, K'ienn wasn't like some riders who cussed and snarled and tried to rush the healers through their work -- such a distraction didn't help anyone, and just one missed piece could eat a man alive. If left to incubate and grow inside, Between wouldn't do it any harm, and localized numbweed might mean pain wasn't felt until it was too late. And once a piece of Thread hit bone, that was usually it.

So, she focused on the man's back, and the ugly looking wound. Thankfully, Olliah wasn't squeamish, and she was more than prepared to poke and prod at his wounds. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but some of the wounds went deep.

Thankfully, he seemed to be--

Wait a minute. Though K'ienn didn't know it, his pain response told Olliah something was indeed amiss, especially since it was unusually deep. Though she heard him explain it was secondary, Olliah wasn't really listening. Instead, her entire focus was on opening up that wound, and looking for any tell tale signs that something might be --

Sure enough, there was the tell tale sign of something in that wound -- small as it might be -- she saw it move. "K'ienn!" It was a sharp gasp, alarm, surprise, worry, and genuine fear laced well into her words. It was about all the warning she could give him. Something had been missed! Instead, there were small, fibrous flecks well within that wound and the only way out was in. With a well practiced shove -- and surprising strength from the spike of adrenaline -- the woman pushed K'ienn into the adjacent tub of warm water. Each station had massive tubs for these sorts of injuries -- wounds that needed immediate drowning or Threadscore that survived Between. It wasn't at unusual -- but it often startled riders.

Given the wound was high on his back, he had no choice but to be dunked. And dunk him Olliah did. With all the practice of a healer and a damned determined woman, the gold rider wasn't about to let him become Thread fodder. So she kept him under just long enough to be certain that wound was saturated, before helping to try to pull him up. Shards, and shells, would that be enough!?  

[Teiha]

He’d given his account of the incident, then bent slightly, resting his chin on his fist. Yisketh kept him updated with the Trespassers’ status, assuring him the wing was doing fine. Though he felt the pull of the skies and Yisketh’s desire to fly and flame, he wasn’t as restless as he usually was when forced out of action. Again, he felt a strong urge to talk with Olliah about something other than business, while he had the opportunity. He opened his mouth to ask—

—And then she shrieked his name, and he was heaved face-first into the neighboring dunk tub. He was almost completely under water, his boots caught and hooked over the edge of the tub. There was a moment of sheer, dumb surprise as he marveled at her unexpected strength before instinct kicked in and he thrashed. Because of the awkward positioning, Olliah easily kept him down, and just long enough for him to have a moment of pure panic—was she seriously going to drown him?—before she was pulling him out again.

The moment his feet got purchase, K’ienn was up, sopping wet and sucking in deep breath of air, letting it out in an infuriated squawk loud enough to draw the attention of many of the others in the tent.

“OLLIE!”

His palms shoved at the water, sending a liquid curtain at Olliah. Part of him knew exactly what had happened and why, but he had been genuinely unprepared for the unpleasant surprise, and his response was utterly petulant. “Shardit, Ollie! What were you trying to do, drown me? Just say something next time and I’ll jump in myself!”

His glare would appear furious to any who were spectating, but only Olliah would be know him well enough to spot that telltale squint in one eye, and that little wrinkling of his nose… this was a first-class pout.

Masterharper

Your Wingleader, ladies and gentlemen.

 

[Masterharper]

Teiha

Olliah hadn't expected K'ienn to be happy about it, but she hadn't expected the man to shriek, much less suddenly throw a wave of water at her. She had no time to move, and instead found herself now sopping wet as well! "K'ienn!" It was enough to break her out of her surprise, and she stared at the man, who was glowering petulantly down at her.

For all his big talk, his pride, and his first-rate ego, K'ienn looked like a petulant child who had just come out of a bath. It was almost endearing. Though she didn't like that she was wet, and she certainly was going to be cold the rest of her shift, her own eyes lit with amusement. The flash of anger she'd felt at getting splashed, quickly subsided more to resigned amusement. She couldn't really blame him -- she supposed if she'd been half-drowned, she'd be pretty upset too. "Oh, stop it, you big baby," she scolded with a small laugh, reaching for a towel, and offering it to him. "Sit down, and let me look at that wound. There wasn't time to warn you, and any second one of those fibers might have burrowed too deep. Better I find it now than have your insides devoured once you're back on Yisketh,"

Let the man pout and scowl and glower. In response, the woman could only smile, despite looking a mess. "The least you could do was thank me, you know," she added, waiting for him to sit down and grabbing a towel herself. "I wasn't the one Threadscored," she added with a little frown, looking down at her now soaked front. It was shaffing cold in the tents, for all that they tried to keep them warmed for the healers and patients, and now she was half-drenched. Better fight a cold than Threadfall though, and as much as she wanted to hate K'ienn, and loathed everything he seemed to stand for, another part of her was very glad he hadn't been eaten alive.

"If I missed any, you're going in again," she warned, though her eyes did dance with a bit of mischief.

He'd deserve it. Fianth stated, ever wary about the bronze rider. While Olliah was more or less forgiving, Fianth was less so. Some dragons might have short memories, but this queen would never forget how badly her rider had been betrayed. They were too good for the likes of them, as far as she was concerned. Let others fawn over them, and might he well leave Hers alone.

Hush, love. Trespasser's needs their Wingleader back, and we need to make sure he's good to go. That was her place this day. Besides, the sooner she had K'ienn taken care of, the sooner she could move on to the next patient.
 

[Teiha]

K’ienn, she just called you a baby.

His scowl deepened, and he mentally kicked Yisketh in the shin. As if he’d done it in person, physically, his dragon just laughed with gleeful impunity, fully enjoying his unusual discomposure. K’ienn just looked at the towel held out in front of him, then back at Olliah before snatching it with a peevish swing of his arm. But he didn’t use it, and didn’t take her up on the invitation to sit down again. His veins were still pulsing with adrenaline, and it was all he could do to stay silent and let the woman talk. She even had the gall to smile at him.

Olliah smiled at him. And when she threatened to throw him in the tub again, her golden eyes alight with humor, his dark eyes, quite suddenly, became soft.

He bent and scrubbed at his head with the towel to hide the smile that broke out across his face, unbidden and irrepressible. He couldn’t help the laugh, though. A rare, mellow-sounding version of his usual scoff. Then he straightened, tossing his still-damp hair back.

He had control of himself again, but the hardness that had dominated his former expression was gone. He wiped the worst of the wet from his body, gingerly avoiding the wounded shoulder, then sat back down on the bench.

"Thanks, Olliah," he said, idly twisting the towel between his hands. "So... How have you been lately?"

Masterharper

NGL, he's totally gunning for a shot in the HR Leadership Calendar with that half-nude wet hairflip.

 

[Masterharper]

Teiha

You know he's already in. It's one of the most important meetings Zheria and D'mon have -- considering who has the bod and looks for their annual calendar.

Fianth lowered her head to stare balefully into the tent, her eye taking on a more orange hue -- which was a rare thing for the usually patient and calm queen. Still, the dragon gave a slight flick of her tail, giving a small snort, before turning to look accusingly at Yisketh -- as if it were somehow his fault there was laughter.

I don't see this as funny. She stated plainly to Olliah, who sent the gold a little wave of love.

Don't worry, love. I don't plan on keeping him here any longer than necessary. He'll be back in the sky before you know it. She assured her queen, accepting the unspoken rebuke with little concern. She knew that K'ienn was not her love's favorite person, and while even she had trouble being around him, the past was the past. He was just someone she used to know, and that was all there was to it. Even if she actually smiled, she would have done the same around anyone to try to diffuse the situation, wouldn't she?

Ah, but Fianth was annoyed simply because it was this particular bronze rider, and as much as she loved her beloved, Olliah wasn't going to let her gold
be too harsh. They had both moved on, hadn't they?

For her part, Olliah watched as K'ienn seemed to finally regain some sense of composure. He still didn't look entirely happy, but she'd heard the laugh as he dried his hair, and that was just as well for her. She'd rather not have to fight with him in public -- especially when she'd only been trying to save his life. A life worth saving, really -- he had important responsibilities, and the sooner she got him back with Trespassers, the better for everyone.

Fianth gave a snort, which Olliah ignored.

"See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" She answered sweetly as the man settled back on the bench. She walked back around him, reaching up to finish her inspection of his wounds. She opened the wound with the metal tool to investigate her handiwork, and to ensure that the wound was well drown. She took a moment to consider his question, unsure how to answer. Honestly? . . . no. He didn't want honesty with her. Not likely. Besides, now wasn't a time for long talk. "I've been well enough," she answered. A safe answer. "And what of you, Wingleader?" She asked, figuring he might prefer getting to speak more of his accomplishments, and all the glories that now were offered him from on high. He always did like to have his ego stroked, and Olliah figured she might as well give him what he wanted.

A time to gloat. Hmph. I'd stick that instrument in deeper if it were me. Fianth unhelpfully added.

"I think I got it all," she added as an aside. All she needed to do was wash out the wounds, douse them in redwort, apply some numbweed, and apply the gauze to the wounds. Stitching wasn't a possibility with the way the Threadscore burrowed and burned into him -- the scarring was going to be ugly, but that was too often the case with Thread. It left too little flesh to properly sew up a wound.
 

[Teiha]

Olliah’s answer was… disappointing. She was still distancing herself. It wasn’t as if K’ienn could blame her for it, though. For a lot of reasons—not least of which being that they were both on duty just then. But still… he wanted to at least make an attempt at making good with her, while he had the chance. But what was there to talk about, besides work? Just one thing, really. It wasn’t ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do.

“Me? Well… I… just met someone… my son. Falienn.” The name felt strange to say. Almost wrong, somehow. “He just came in from Ruatha. He’s seventeen, already a man, and I never even knew he was… No one ever told me about him.” And why hadn’t they? The letter announcing his abrupt arrival had been nothing but cordial. There was nothing in it to suggest that the boy’s mother had anything against him, or any reason to keep Falienn a secret. In seventeen turns, not even a letter to inform him, or ask for any help? He would have gladly sent anything they needed. It didn’t make sense.

K’ienn shifted, leaning an elbow on his knee as he pensively stared at the still-rippling water in the nearby tub. “I just… I really would have liked to know.”

Uta

 

[Uta]

Teiha

With K'ienn resettled, Olliah continued her inspection. Still, she listened to him speak even as she moved the metal instrument around, searching for any writhing mess to indicate living Thread, but finding none. That was a relief. But she did find herself momentarily distracted as he mentioned having met someone....

But it wasn't who she thought. A son. A son.

Thankfully, she was standing behind the man, so he did not see a bit of color drain from her face, or the sudden change of expression upon her face. For a brief second, the woman felt the sharp pang of intense jealousy, and that bubble of wounded wrath and hurt almost surfaced. An old wound ripped open, one that she doubted K'ienn knew about, and one she had buried even while they were together. Children were a bittersweet subject for the woman, and she was good at being joyous for her friends who had them.

...but K'ienn. He was different.

This news was nothing but pure, unadulterated confirmation that she was the broken one. That she was the problem. That she...

Well. No. She wouldn't think about this, not here, not now.

This wasn't about her and she was not going to make it about her. No. Biting her tongue, swallowing back the sudden dredge of emotion, the woman feigned interest in his wound, before turning to clean and disinfect the instrument. Just one excuse to not have to speak, one more moment of composure. Seventeen... Well, that was long before they were together. She, nothing more than a weyrling, or thereabouts. "A son," she finally repeated, the surprise in her voice clear. She hoped the strain was no longer present.

"I... I'm sorry you were unaware of him all this time," she spoke quietly, words genuine, if still a touch strained. He certainly sounded uncharacteristically affected by it. Did he regret knowing? Or did he regret not being there for him? The woman reached for the redwort, reaching up to apply it to his gaping wound. "I can't imagine the surprise. How did the meeting go, if... if it's not too impertinent a query," She realized too late she no longer had the right to pry into his affairs, or ask such questions. Their lives were now quite different, and all the things she wanted to ask, she no longer had the right.

"Well, while you can't turn back time, at least you know now. Better than not at all, and if he's at the Weyr well... A good opportunity to make up for that lost time, if... If that's an interest" She wondered if he was a Candidate, or if he'd just been dropped into K'ienn's care. She wanted to know what he looked like, what he was like... Ah. But again, it was none of her business.

Fianth rumbled again. And it shouldn't be. Let it go, Mine, don't dwell. There's work to be done.  

[Teiha]

Even as he spoke about his son, he felt Yisketh mentally curling in on himself, “looking” at his rider with a bit of disbelief and no small amount of disgust. Why even bring him up? The boy is worthless. I doubt he was even properly Searched.

It seemed that Olliah also found this topic somewhat unwelcome. She’d been most gentle with his wound, but something he said had caused just enough of a twitch to scrape something that hurt bad enough to make his eyes bug out with the effort of controlling his reflexes. Thankfully, the growl that escaped him was only a mental one—though more in frustration than pain. He’s adjusting, Yisketh. He’s obviously not used to rules or taking orders. He’ll be fine in time.

You can’t even convince yourself of that.

Olliah moved away to do something at the wash basin, then returned and began coating his wound with a salve. Redwort—it stung a bit, but not as bad as before. Just when he’d thought she’d be silent for the rest of their time together, the dark-haired woman spoke up, her voice soft. Something in her tone sparked a small flare of hope, but at the same time gave K'ienn an odd sense of quietness inside. He wished for her sake that his meeting with Falienn had been wonderful, his own flesh and blood becoming an instant friend and ally... but it hadn't turned out anywhere near as well.

“He's... not really happy to be here. He tried to hide it at first, but, well... he looks like me. He sounds like me. And when he realized he couldn't fool me, he stopped trying to pretend.” The memory of that conversation was not at all pleasant. In fact... “I think I could have loved raising a son under my wing, but Falienn... he's been openly rebellious right out of the gate. And I think he hates me already. It's no wonder they couldn't cope with him at Ruatha.”

Uta

 

[Uta]

Olliah tried to follow her gold's advice. She wanted nothing more than to focus only on the wound, and patch it up, and send the man on his way. But another part of her absolutely couldn't get over the shellshock that K'ienn had a son. He had a child with some other woman, someone Turn's back...long before he ever laid eyes on her. Oh, she wasn't jealous over that... She'd long come to understand that he was no stranger to women. And maybe, just maybe, she'd taken that as a sign of hope for herself; that maybe, despite his history, despite what she knew, as far as any of them were aware he'd had no children. She had hoped, or had wanted to hope, that K'ienn had been the issue....

But no.

Right now, all she could do was lean into Fianth's affection and assurance, focus on patching up the man, and try to not let his words affect her. And yet... Even as he spoke about his experience with Falienn, the way he confirmed that he might have loved raising a son, all that old pain was once against brought to the forefront. It surprised her. She remembered when she had brought up having a family, how badly she had wanted it... Had wanted them to have such joy. She also remembered how lackluster he had been; his response had been tepid, perhaps even unethusiastic. And yet.... They could have had something great.

....could have.

It is. Fianth stated gently, softly, encouragingly. The gold turned a baleful eye back to K'ienn, a small flash of red whirling in the corner of her gaze.

K'ienn would never know how badly his words hurt her, and that was just a well. This was her own pain, her own fault, and her own wound to grieve over. The fact he had a son, well... She would try to be joyous for him. Even if the boy did not sound very happy. "I'm sure you would have made a good one," she confirmed, perhaps even quieter than before. Clearing her throat, trying to tug the emotion from it, to play it off as simply a tickle within it, she continued. "You don't know what his life was like. He's a grown man, with his own experiences... I'm sure it's all been shocking to him; so much change, in a new rigid Weyr. Leave it to you to have a rebellious child," she gave a small laugh, this time, at least, less forced. "Be gentle, though. Be patient. Who knows what he's gone through at Ruatha. Give it time... Maybe he'll be more receptive in time."

Teiha

 

[Teiha]

"I'm sure you would have made a good one," Olliah said. A good what? K’ienn wanted to turn around and look at her. He almost did, shifting and turning his head halfway, as if listening raptly to her voice. There was only one thing that could fit in that context, but he had never mentioned the word… father.

Perhaps it was the coldness of the tent and his still-damp body… perhaps it was a tinge of Fianth’s wrathful emotions leaking through to him… but he suddenly felt the beginnings of dread creeping into his chest. A father. Yes, that’s what he was. There was no escaping that fact, as strange as it felt. But a good one? He hadn’t even had a chance with Falienn. Maybe if he’d have been able to start from the beginning…

…His life would have been very, very different.

There were things… there were people… one in particular, whom he never wanted to erase from his past. And if he’d begun that journey with her…

He did turn then, just as she laughed, catching sight of that precious smile before it was gone. Olliah had the sweetest laugh, and the sweetest smile, when she was free with them. All too easily, he could picture her golden eyes glowing with love and that laugh ringing out in harmony with the joyful squeaks of a babe. She would have made such a wonderful m—

Stop it. Stop it! Yisketh snapped in his head. Stop finding new ways to torture us! Enough! The man was visibly startled by the bronze’s audible growl and the tooth-filled muzzle that appeared in the opening of the tent a moment before Yisketh’s swirling red eye came into view. He could feel Yisketh’s heartache at standing so close to Fianth, and his anger at being useless to do anything to please her. A feeling he understood well. We have a job to do, K’ienn! Thread is still falling.

Though she wouldn’t have heard Yisketh’s words, he knew Olliah would wonder what had transpired between the bronze pair. He looked back over his shoulder at her, a smirk of chagrin pulling at his mouth. “Yisketh says he’d really like to get back to work before there’s no thread left for him to burn. How's it looking back there?"

Uta