A Question Of Character [Rhush]

[Zen]

10th Pass, 5th Turn, Late 10th Month
The day before Agree To Disagree

Zenelle :: Green Verdath

When Tevanth had dropped out of the sky, Zenelle had Verdath call upon Zalmaranth and Aerroth both to help her subdue the Brown in his agony, unsure if one Gold would be enough with the extent of his injuries. D'van had been entirely mad with panic, having to be subdued himself, and Zenelle had worked for candlemarks on the poor Brown's mangled wings simply to get him stable and lessen his pain. And then candlemarks more as she attempted to repair them to the best of her ability. There was a long road ahead for the pair, if they were ever to fly again, and that was questionable at best. She had never seen such horrific damage to a dragon's wings before.

It had been two days since that terrible Fall and Zenelle decided now was a good time to call in Srunae to see the damage. She had rather forgotten that the young goldrider was still interested in dragonhealing, she had been too focused on dealing with Tevanth at the time, but her assistance would be welcome at this point. Besides Tevanth, there were a number of other dragon casualties from the last Fall that she could observe and help with, though Zenelle had left their treatments largely up to the younger dragonhealers under her, focusing all of her own experience into seeing Tevanth healed. The number of casualties from this Fall was... heartbreaking, honestly, though they could be thankful to have only lost one pair completely.

Verdath, please call Danovelith and Srunae for a dragonhealing lesson. Her exhaustion was clear, and Verdath sent a worrying croon her way before reaching out for the young Queen that now dwarfed her completely, Danovelith, if you would, let Srunae know that Zenelle would like you both to come down to the infirmary for a dragonhealing lesson. And then to her rider privately, I requested they come.... Will you rest soon? You are nearly asleep on your feet. Zenelle waved her hand at her dragon, Soon enough. Tevanth is stable... but I want to make sure Srunae sees it while its fresh. She has yet to deal with anything quite so.... Well. It takes a certain type of person to be able to deal with such things, and if she is to become a full dragonhealer, it's best we find out sooner rather than later if she can hold up to it.

And it wasn't just her that had been working hard. Most of the dragons hadn't needed the attention Tevanth had, of course, but the number of dragons that had needed attention at all rather outnumbered the dragonhealers that Mavros had on hand. Some of the Weyr's healers had to be pressed into service to compensate with the less severe cases, and few of them were willing to approach an injured and distressed dragon. Srunae was still a weyrling, she still had lessons both as a weyrling and a new goldrider, and that rather limited the time the young woman could spend working on her dragonhealing for the time being. It made Zenelle hesitant to call on her help until her graduation, but lessons like these were, thankfully, hard to come by, and she wanted to take advantage of it since it had presented itself.

You did ask both of them to come, yes? Danovelith will be able to give Tevanth at least a brief relief from his pain... it would do him good, she checked with her Green. Verdath snorted, Of course. After all, what male doesn't enjoy the attentions of a Queen? Zenelle actually managed a laugh at that, for her dragon had a point. Danovelith's presence would be something of a moral booster for many of the injured dragons if nothing else, and the Gold had, well, a good bedside manner. She was well suited to being a dragonhealer's dragon, and Zenelle was incredibly happy that one of their two newest goldriders had taken such an interest in dragonhealing. The Greenrider stood beside her dragon on the sand stretching between the cliffs and the sea, just outside one of the numerous shallow caves that had been enlarged for housing injured dragons, and watched the sky for signs of the Gold's approach.

[Rhush]

Srunae :: Gold Danovelith

Srunae was bent over her desk in her weyr, a stack of paperwork ranging from storage calculations and tithe inventories to old Threadfall charts and damages to external holds taking up a large section of her desk. In front of her was the Fall casualties report for this most recent bout of thread, a weather report for the same day, and a set of… ahem… missing lists of human and dragon healer's reports. Sure, it wasn’t the goldweyrling’s job to work out Threadfall rotations or wing makeups – Faranth, it wasn’t even a job the Weyrwoman dealt with, let alone her juniors – but after the total loss of one pair to the cold of Between, the grounding-worthy damage to another, and the overwhelming number of dragons who took a hit in one way or another ranging from the greens to the bronzes, even if they were just small threadscores, it was safe to say Srunae was… interested, to put it lightly.

Not that she doubted anyone’s expertise in flying thread, no; it was more a matter of… personal investment in the number of injured people and dragons. Her eyes settled on one bronzepair in particular on the injury list, and her expression softened briefly before she picked up the Fall chart. She knew they lacked the numbers of able-bodied dragons and riders that the other weyrs had, and as a result some riderpairs flew when they weren’t quite ready to make up for a lack of coverage. The question the goldweyrling wanted to answer was, pretty simple. "How many of you flew when you weren't fully healed? Or fully prepared?" She said to herself, checking old injuries against locations in the full height of the formation, from the topmost Weyrleader’s wing to the Queens’ wing at the bottom. The older the injury, the better the flexibility; from drills to exercises, those who were injured ages ago would have more ability with their injured parts than those who were wounded more recently, whom were supposed to be avoiding reopening their wounds. And then there was Tevranth and his rider. The brown’s sails had been all but shredded; why? Srunae knew they flew in the topmost wing, where thread was the heaviest, and so naturally they were in prime wound territory. But for such extensive damage…? What had they been doing? Had thread clumped and caught them off guard? Was someone not covering their wingmate appropriately? Did the wind throw the little silvery monsters back up into their wing, instead of falling down to the next? Srunae frowned, picking up the weather report for the day and reading through it. Whatever it had been, it needed to be addressed and then a solution created so as to prevent it from happening again; and while Srunae doubted anyone would take her ideas seriously, she liked to have insight into the situation ahead of time.

Danovelith broke into her thoughts with her typical queenly air, her mindvoice a gently wavering pool of water within the deep greens of the redwood forests in summer. Srunae My Own, we have been summoned for a dragonhealing lesson. The weyrling looked up from her paperwork and rubbed her face, a motion that didn’t illustrate the whirl of excitement that curled into her. Of all her extra lessons as a goldrider, Srunae had taken quite a liking to dragonhealing, finding the methodical, thoughtful work to be quite cathartic in part to its similarities to her beastcrafting background. It was, as a result, perhaps the most relaxing of her studies, despite the less than grand circumstances and the somewhat difficult company she sometimes found herself in.

Not that Talaria wasn’t a good conversationalist, she just always seemed to be so unbelievably grumpy, a stark contrast to the warm, thoughtful personality that was Zenelle. Alright, tell Verdath we will be there momentarily. The senior weyrling stood up from her desk and smoothed down her loose white tunic. It didn’t take her long to find her boots and her straps, and even less time to find and pull on her dark wherry-leather flight jacket. She tied her hair back into a loose runnertail/bun of sorts and then found her way up her now gigantic gold. Climbing onto her dragon had quickly become just as much of a workout as her more physical weyrling lessons and weyrling drills, not that Danovelith was bothered by her size increase. Her sister was still far larger than she, and not built nearly as daintily. Srunae chuckled at that thought and strapped into her queen’s harness. My sister and I are built just the way we should be. The gold hummed good-naturedly, though she did quietly enjoy the idea that her Srunae found her more attractive than her sister.

Moments later the young queen leapt off her ledge and whirled into an easy flight out to the shore, neither seeing the necessity of Betweening such a short distance. Danovelith trailed her right wingclaw through the chilly ocean water for a time as they swung around the shoreline and back towards the fishing caverns. Zenelle and her green were there to greet them, standing beside one of the enlarged caves that housed injured dragons recovering from wounds that prevented them from returning to their own weyrs. The pair alighted upon the sand where the shore was large enough to accommodate Danovelith’s open wingspan without clipping any rocky outcroppings, and Srunae quickly dismounted, waving at her instructor. "Hello Zenelle! I apologize if we weren’t quite as prompt as you might like, I was half buried in paperwork and had to fight my way out." Srunae called brightly, putting a positive spin on her not necessarily favored studies of that day. The beastcrafter slipped out of her flight straps and hooked them into Danovelith’s harness like a practiced veteran, but left on her flight leathers for the time being. She didn’t have a manner of stashing them on Danovelith at the moment, having left her means in her weyr, and for two, it was cold over here, and what little warmth her flight jacket afforded her was greatly appreciated. Hello Verdath, Danovelith greeted the now much smaller green, her mindvoice sunlight over a calm summer’s ocean. How are you and Yours doing? I have heard your work has been overwhelming as of late. She was, of course, referring to the most recent Fall’s casualties in her concern, but she deigned against mentioning what they were likely there to see as part of their lesson.

[Zen]

Zenelle :: Green Verdath

Zenelle gave the younger woman a wan smile as she offered a preemptive apology and shook her head, “No, no, don't worry. I know you have a lot going on currently. Weyrlings are always busy, Gold weyrlings more so. But I thought this lesson worth your time. It is, thankfully, rare for a dragon to be this injured in a Fall. It was a first for me, though I imagine it will not be the last before the Pass ends.” She cast a glance back into the cavern where Tevanth rested, though the Brown had had a difficult time sleeping much thus far.

Hello, Danovelith. Verdath turned her whirling gaze toward the young Queen and let out a long sigh at the Gold's question, She is exhausted... but she has said she will rest soon. It was clear from the Green's tone that she had her doubts about that. Her rider often overworked herself, even more so since K'zen disappeared Between on his Blue. Thoughts of her lost son were always there, in the back of her mind, and kept Verdath's memories of the boy fresh as well. The work helped her forget for a while. She shuffled her wings slightly, as if shaking off the negative thoughts, And you and Yours? Have you both been well?

“Come,” Zenelle waved Srunae after her as she turned to enter the cave, glancing back to give her fair warning in a lowered tone, “D'van is here as well and... quite drunk. It is... all many riders can really do when their dragons are in such bad shape....” D'van was settled on the ground at his dragon's side, the man looking entirely despondent as he stared down into a cup held tightly in both hands, as if he was clinging to it for dear life. Zenelle spoke softly, soothing, “D'van... I've brought Srunae and Danovelith to see Tevanth. I would like her to help me check him over.”

D'van looked over at her, squinting up at them both for a long moment, and slowly pushed himself to his feet, one hand on his Brown's side, lingering, reluctant to lose contact with his dragon, “D'you... need me to move...?” Tevanth shifted, huffing as the movement caused him some pain, and D'van turned to murmur soothingly to the dragon, pressing his forehead against dull brown hide.

Zenelle gave the two a moment, “Perhaps if you stood at his head, D'van... you can stay close and help comfort him.”

The Brownrider looked down to his cup, tipping the contents back into his mouth and made his way to Tevanth's head as Zenelle had suggested. He settled himself back on the ground, reaching up to rub his dragon's great snout, “You'll be all right... even got a Queen to come take care of you....”

Zenelle gestured Srunae closer as she stepped up to Tevanth's side, his wings held out at awkward angles for a resting dragon, as folding them caused him great discomfort. It did however make them easy to observe. Great portions of his wingsails had been eaten away by Thread, tattered and blackened. Zenelle kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb D'van or his dragon, “When the wingsails are badly scored like this, you will need to sew cloth to the wing bones to support what remains of the wing and lay the foundation for natural regrowth.” She paused to allow Srunae to get a good look at the work she'd done, “And you will need assistance.”

She would have preferred to have had one or two of the other dragonhealers assisting her just for the experience, but they had all been quickly occupied with their own patients and she'd had to grab anyone willing to simply hold some cloth up for her while she worked and hand her whatever tools she might need. “You'll also notice the splint on his Mid Bone. The scoring managed to sever the bone there, though the rest of the bones escaped damage.” She moved off to the back of the cave briefly, returning with two buckets and dipping her hands first in one, and then the other, indicating that Srunae should do the same, “You should know by now, but Redwort first, then you can help me apply more numbweed. I would like you get Danovelith to dampen his pain as well, he could use the relief.”

She waited until Srunae gave her confirmation that she had asked for her Gold's assistance and started work on spreading the salve carefully over the Brown's wings, “His range of motion will be far less than he had previously and will likely take him some time to get used to, with plenty of flight reconditioning and physical therapy, but so long as we manage to keep out any infection... he should be able to fly again.” It would be several months before any thought of flight could be entertained, however. “I know I normally try to drill it into you that we should keep riders lucid to help us keep their dragon calm and comforted, but with an injury like this, it is best to simply get wine into a rider as quickly as possible and keep them out of the way.” She gave D'van a quick glance, the man still running his hands over his dragon's muzzle and murmuring things too quietly for her to hear.

It really was a shame... they were a rider pair in their prime, really. D'van was only in his 30s. There were always other ways the pair could be useful, but Mavros was sorely lacking in the larger colors, and D'van and Tevanth could have given many more turns of fighting service to the Weyr. She tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on spreading a generous amount of numbweed over the dragon's wings so he would have plenty of relief after Danovelith was no longer about to offer her assistance. “When we're done here... I would like you to visit a few of the other dragons that were scored to see how they're doing. You shouldn't be required to do much but check their wounds over, but it will be good for you to make a few basic assessments on your own. If everything seems well, you can let me know through Verdath and return to whatever other duties you have today, but if you find something wrong I'd like you to call me.”

Verdath snorted outside, I thought you were going to rest after this. Zenelle's gaze narrowed down Tevanth's wing, I will rest when I know all is well and I am no longer immediately needed. Verdath's wings flared slightly in frustration, as though she was throwing them up in surrender, as she knew there was no arguing with her rider. She threatened her anyway, If you are not in bed soon I shall carry you to it myself and hold you there. Zenelle mentally shoo'd the Green away, You're distracting. Verdath huffed indignantly and turned pointedly away from the cave, settling moodily into the sand.