Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2018 11:38:40 GMT -5
It had been a couple of days since the new riders’ first Threadfall—and Karredy’s stunt rescuing C’mor, which she would really like to blow over, or at least feel less awkward about by now. But there was still the looming talk with A’zael to dig at the Weyrwoman’s mind. Another unwelcome reminder was the gauze wrapped around Zalmaranth’s neck: Not a bad wound for a dragon, especially not one of the queen’s size, but a “minor” wound for Zalmaranth still took up the bulk of Karredy’s arm.
So Zalmaranth’s bandages needed changing after this week’s bath and oiling, since all the ichor had stained them green, and it wasn’t like you needed to be a dragon-healer for that. (It didn’t help that not many people particularly WANTED to do it.)
Gisellaine had come along, and probably not to catch up—there was an all-too-familiar look on her sister’s face that meant she was going to talk about C’mor.
“I can... start with the bandages if you like,” she offered politely.
“I’m not getting sick anymore, Gisellaine,” Karredy huffed and picked at one end of the dressing. “All right, Zal, hold still.”
“No, I meant—“
THAT! HURTS! The gold bellowed as the bandages came off, both mentally and out loud.
And quite shortly after was Karredy’s own shriek of pain. (Although the noise itself was embarrassingly close to a little girl’s squeal—in a few minutes she’d be lamenting the very un-Weyrwoman sound.) “OH SHARD IT MY NECK OWWW!” She clamped a hand to that side.
“That was why,” Gisellaine told her ruefully.
In a moment or two Karredy blocked out the pain, but checked Zalmaranth’s neck again with dismay: Only half the bandages were off. “Zalmaranth—“
NO. And the queen dove into the lake from the shallows.
So Zalmaranth’s bandages needed changing after this week’s bath and oiling, since all the ichor had stained them green, and it wasn’t like you needed to be a dragon-healer for that. (It didn’t help that not many people particularly WANTED to do it.)
Gisellaine had come along, and probably not to catch up—there was an all-too-familiar look on her sister’s face that meant she was going to talk about C’mor.
“I can... start with the bandages if you like,” she offered politely.
“I’m not getting sick anymore, Gisellaine,” Karredy huffed and picked at one end of the dressing. “All right, Zal, hold still.”
“No, I meant—“
THAT! HURTS! The gold bellowed as the bandages came off, both mentally and out loud.
And quite shortly after was Karredy’s own shriek of pain. (Although the noise itself was embarrassingly close to a little girl’s squeal—in a few minutes she’d be lamenting the very un-Weyrwoman sound.) “OH SHARD IT MY NECK OWWW!” She clamped a hand to that side.
“That was why,” Gisellaine told her ruefully.
In a moment or two Karredy blocked out the pain, but checked Zalmaranth’s neck again with dismay: Only half the bandages were off. “Zalmaranth—“
NO. And the queen dove into the lake from the shallows.