The Dragonriders of Pern® is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on March 3rd, 2001 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.

It's Easier for Dragons

Pyrene waddles in with the grimace that usually accompanies movement nowaday, Lis is spotted and stalked in her slow fashion. Since it would be easier to call out to the rider, one can only assume that she wishes to have a discreet word with her. If she catches up with her, which isn't looking likely at her current rate of progress.

Lis sashays in a happy-go-lucky air, looking for food and hoping to find it. Wingmates are greeted and handshakes exchanged until she spots the round form of everyone's favorite goldrider, stalking her, it seems. How novel. "Morning, Pyrene! What crawled into your bed this morning?" she teases good-naturedly, though there's a hint of a worried frown with D'rennish strains.

Cinny plops down in the chair nearest Sraine, curling up in a feline-like position as the cup of juice is cradled between her hands. More nanny-bashing ensues, "Good, 'cause I reallyreally/really/ don't wanna take a bath. Akilth? Is he your dragon? What color is he?" Typical childish curiousity, really. Since neither hand is free, the weyrbrat settles for calling to the newcomers in greeting, "Lis! Pyrene! Uhh.. And other person! Hiyas!" Well, at least she /acknowledged/ Loren and Ilare, rather than saying nothing at all. Back to Sraine, "Did you make the juice yourself, or did the cooks? It's better than.. klah. Or that other stuff." 

Slow strides carry someone in not long after Pyrene's arrival. Brownrider detours almost immediately towards the hearth and klah - and (of course) food. Ilare's hungry. Sweeps have a habit of making you so, you know. All present are given a slight wave before she flumps herself into a seat at her wing's table.

Lis has D'rennish strains? That's enough to put Pyrene off. "Lisss..." she hisses in the sort of whisper that /tells/ everybody she doesn't want them to hear. And just in case they missed that, she darts a furtive look around too. "C'mere, I need to ask you something!"

Loren has disconnected.
Loren yawns sleepily, and, resting her head on the nearest thing she can find, drifts to sleep.

Sraine laughs, obviously noting the others aversion to taking a bath. "Baths aren't all that bad. Especially when you get to take them in a natural spring or something like that." She shrugs. She particularly liked her own baths, but it was Cinny's choice whether she liked them or not. Ine always had her 'lizards to make it more interesting besides. "Hrm? Akilth? Oh yes...he's my dragon." And she smiles very sweetly here. "He's brown, and a very interesting shade at that." Pausing and glancing at the new arrivals, she gives vague waves to Pyrene and Lis, not wanting to interrupt them. She then spots her old wingmate Ilare and gives a wave, garnished with a call. "Ilare! What are you doing sitting over there!" And she motions for fellow rider to take a spot nearby. Honestly...why couldn't old Kamikaze's still sit together? Noticing Cinny was talking to her again, she turns and shakes her head. "Oh..no. It's something someone else came up with. I was just lucky to find it. I like klah over anything, but this is a very close second." And she takes a loooong sip. 

Lis continues to frown worriedly, which further adds to her image as a blonde, busty D'renn. (Now /there's/ something to put Pyrene off.) "What is it?" she hisses back, bending her head close to Pyrene's - though due to the height discrepancy, the Pregnant One might have to do more than her share of bending. The quest for foods is halted, attention now devoted to the goldrider - which explains her lack of greetings.

Reiko notes the new arrivals with a lifted eyebrow. One can never say whether the caverns will be crowded or deserted... but they're certainly interesting. She's relieved to note that she actually /recognizes/ most of them - no need for tedious introductions - but as Lis and Pyrene are too busy to respond to a greeting, she turns to give Ilare a wave instead. And goes back to her klah.

"What does a contraction feel like again?" Pyrene mutters awkwardly in the vicinity of the d'rennified Lis' ear. Poldhu looks very smug on her shoulder but as his throat starts vibrating in a hum, the mother-to-be-very-soon bats him about the head, shutting him up.

Ooooo? Ilare lets her bones relax a moment, before head tilts back and she peers at her old weyrling wingmate, smiling tiredly before she stands again, wincing in spite of herself. Stiffff.... "Coming," she calls in amusement, giving the unfamiliar face beside her fellow brownrider (us browny gals gotta stick together!) a bright grin before seating herself down once more, mug tapping tabletop. Now, where's the food? "How's Akilth? And you? You doing good?" Cinny is peered at again, before another smile is given. "I don't know you, do I?" A wave is caught in the corner of her eye, and Reiko's greeting is returned. 

"Er...." Words fail Lis at a time like this, the greenrider gesticulating helplessly and emitting disjointed monosyllables. "I, well, ee. Um." Finally, she manages to pull herself together, sigh, and answer properly: "It's a wrather wrenching pain in your middle. Not exactly something you can ignore." Poldhu is eyed warily.

"Nope, but you'll know me soon," Cinny giggles, at her own not-so-funny humor. "I'm Cinny, and you're.. Ilare, right?" Just a logical conjecture, since she happened to pluck the name from Sraine's words. A wary glance is tossed Sraine-wards, "Baths aren't /that/ bad.. I just don't like takin' 'em." Wow, the logic sure did disappear quickly. "What color is Akilth? 'Cause you said he was an 'interesting shade' and all.." Shoulders are dipped in a shrug, as the weyrbrat commences to sip her juice once more. 

Pyrene wanted a second opinion, but at Lis' words she sighs rather helplessly and fumbles into a seat. "Well, I didn't think it was indigestion," she mutters. "They're still widely spaced though. Don't need to do anything yet..." No. She'll just sit here and not think about it, and maybe it'll go away painlessly. "How is everybody else?" she addresses the cavern at large.

Sraine chuckles as she notices Ilare's stiffness on her way over. "Been doing some heavy flying lately? You look like you could use a good rest." Taking a long drink of her juice she nods. "Akilth's well..and so am I. We've been keeping ourselves....busy." Busy with what, she looks a little embarrassed to say. Sooo! On to another subject. "I trust you're doing well?" Glancing back over to Cinny, she blinks a moment. She thought she had said he was brown. "He's brown dear." she murmers cheerfully, repeating herself just in case she was mistaken. "You really should meet him sometime." and that reminded her to inquire of Ilare. "OH...how is Chanti? I haven't seen you both very much since we've gone to different wings." At Pyrene's cavern-wide question she merely smiles and responds back openly. "Fair enough."

Reiko gives Pyrene a smile, now that she's prepared to address the room at large. "Well enough," is her more-or-less standard answer... one which coincidentally echoes the brownrider's at the next table. A bit surprised, Reiko glances over at the 'rider quickly before turning her gaze more toward Ilare... whom she at least knows... to hear her answer.

Lis takes up a perch near the contracting goldrider, resisting the urge to flutter like an avian with its head cut off. "Are you /sure/ you'll be alright, Pyrene? We could get you to the Healers now, and in a nice comfy bed..." She hasn't quite forgotten how she ruined D'renn's sweater with amniotic fluids.

Ilare is.. "Stiff. Tired. But other wise well. How're you, Pyrene?" In cas eyou haven't noticed, attention hasn't been paid to the PyLis chatter. Nope. Looking back to Sraine, she giggles lightly. "Heh, we're both well. Just done sweeps, so.." Just a lil' tired, is all. Cinny is offered a hand that holds no mug, the other lifting said cup to aid the sipping of hot beverage. "Well met, Cinny." Gaze flickers back to Sraine. "Chan's good. Relaxing now we've done our chores for the day." Can you believe it's autumn? Ugh.. the snow'll be coming back!

Pyrene is perfectly happy to ruin any more of D'renn's clothes, if Lis wants to go get something. "I'll be fine, fine..." she grumbles at Lis. "Yes, I've been fine," she adds to the room at large. "It's a nice mild autumn isn't it?"

Lis subsides for the time being, though she makes unhappy grumbling noises about Pyrene's refusal to give herself to the clutches of a competent Healer. Beckoning a drudge over, she orders two-persons' worth of creampuffs and something to chase it down with - though /hers/ will be alcoholic.

Cinny, before actually shaking Ilare's hand, wipes off some juice that happened to drip from the cup to her hand. "Heh, likewise, Ilare." The giggle is inevitable, as the weyrbrat giggles at basically everything. "Yeah, I know he's brown, Sraine," she informs the other brownrider, "But you said he was an interesting shade of brown. Like, what kinda brown?" An eyebrow, unconciously, is raised slightly. "I'm fine, Pyrene!" Is chirped goldrider-wards.

Sraine knew she had mentioned her brownie-babe actually being brown. She just didn't know what the other wanted clarification. "Actually..it's kind of hard to describe. He's quite a mixture of lights and darks. You'd have to see for yourself I'm afraid." At Ilare's mentioning of sweeps, the brownrider understands completely. "You've a right to rest now then. You sound like you've been busy. Me and Akilth have our duties in the evening, so we're resting up." Indeed, she had a busy evening ahead of her. At the mention of autumn she inwardly sighs. Akilth didn't like the snow, and so it would be yet another session of trying to get him used to it.

Kernow flicks in and scolds Pyrene soundly before dropping to her shoulder and also starting to hum--the most Pyrene can do is to keep her muted. "I'm fine, I'm fine..." she repeats, wincing abruptly. The latest contraction passes, and she catches her breath, her eyes starting to get a little wild now. "All browns are a good kind of brown," she prompts Cinny, determined not to lose track of her principles at a time like this.

Ilare notes not any sticky hands - she's wearing gloves, y'see. "He's darker than my brown," she offers helpfully, sipping the klah, before eyes rest on Pyrene with amusement at her statement. Not that she disagrees, of course. Browns make Pern go round, you know. Noting the wince from the goldrider, eyes shift to Lis, eyebrow lifting in question. What's wrong with Pyrene? 

Reiko, not being a rider, and being somewhat new to the Weyr, hasn't spent much time considering the finer points of the variations of brown dragonhide... or any other color, for that matter, so she doesn't add her comments. But she does notice Pyrene's... discomfort, and her eyes flicker over the goldrider appraisingly. Hm. Anytime now, from the look of her. "You all right, Pyrene?"

"I like blues myself," Lis adds wickedly, voice low but pitched to carry across the cavern. A soft smirk is hid behind the rim of her glass, filled with something a little stronger than wine - even at this early hour. Ilare's eyebrow is noted, and the greenrider covertly gives the brownrider hand-signals: a cup infront of her middle to indicate Pyrene's belly, a pushing movement to indicate something leaving, and at last, the rocking motions of one cradling a baby. All this covertly, of course.

Sasha strides confidently in from the Central Bowl.
R'ave skulks broodily in from the Central Bowl.

Sasha wanders in, with a happy expression on her face. "Hey guys!" she smiles as she wanders over to the hearth to collect her mug of klah.

Cinny doesn't particularly have a specific preference in dragon color, really. "Oh," she answers, to both brownriders. "I like browns and blues, I guess." Shrug. As Lis preforms a show of signals, the weyrbrat eyes her curiously. Cinny is good at reading hand-signals, mind you; and also good at relaying the information to the whole caverns verbally. "Pyrene's gonna have her baby?" Not that she knows Lis meant for the information to be kept secret. Whoops. "Yay, Pyrene!"

As her lizards' humming intensifies, and a louder queen-sized hum joins them from outside, Pyrene is at last urged to her feet--and into Lis' arms as another contraction chooses to hit right then. Accompanied, of course, by her waters breaking. Inasfar as Lis' legs belong to D'renn, his property is getting another amniotic fluid bath. Under the circumstances, Pyrene does not greet Sasha or R'ave. Please excuse her.

Of course. Covertly. But it all makes (eventual) sense to the brown rider lounging in the seat next to Sraine. Both R'ave and Sasha are nodded to, a wave added for greenriding wingmate before.. hmm.. Gaze returns to rest with concern for the goldrider, even as she listens to Sraine and Cinny. And winces. 

S'nor walks in from the Central Bowl.

Sraine spots Lis's interesting hand motions, but keeps quiet. Then Cinny gives her own outburst and she can't control the giggles that erupt forth. She merely hides them behind at hand. As R'ave and Sasha make their way in she gives a cheerful wave. Perhaps they'd like to come over and enjoy the little group. Attention going back to Pyrene, she starts to look a little worried. Was Cinny's statement true for later or for the present?

S'nor yawns as he limps in to the Caverns, a wave is thrown to those gathered as he makes a bee line to the klah pots, nothing more important to him right now... Except for stepping around that chair he almost toppled over... But he does end up making it to the klah pots in one piece as he fills his mug up and glances around..

Reiko's eyes widen as it becomes apparent that Pyrene is definitely /not/ all right.. at least, not at the moment. Interesting. She hardly even notices the others entering, and she's certainly not thinking about her klah just at the moment. She gets to her feet, looking for once uncertain. "Can I... help?" 

Sasha drops her klah mug on the nearest table. "Pyrene! are you alright?" seeing the mess, her eyes widen and the healer within takes over..."Guess not! Can I help?"

S'nor has disconnected.
S'nor falls asleep.

"Pyrene!" Lis wails desperately as she finds herself with an armful of goldrider and a legful of slimy baby juice. "I /told/ you to go to the Healers! And you didn't listen. No one /ever/ listens." Getting to her feet as well, she places a securing hand against each of Pyrene's bicepts, keeping the goldrider upright as best she can while eyeing the dripping mess the bottom of her leathers has become. "The infirmary, huh?"

R'ave drifts into the caverns, basically oblivious. He's trained his ear to be deaf to any sort of brat grunts, squeaks, or burbles, so he moves, for a moment at least, without regard for any sort of situations involving pregnancy. A grin flirts discreetly toward Ilare and Sraine, and eventually Sasha, hands left to his pockets as he shifts their way. "Well.. um. I'll just.." He'd offer to be helpful like Sasha, but babies scare him -- so babies popping out of women probably would scare him as well. "Sit here." Right.

Pyrene has learned a valuable lesson. When in the first stages of labour, do not wait around in public. It's embarassing. The front of her dress dripping wet in humiliating places, she nods frantically to Lis and Sasha, even as two larger, stronger, braver than R'ave, male riders take her by either arm and assist her infirmarywards (it may be noted that they return promptly. They're not that brave).

S'nor has connected.
S'nor wakes up.

Deeper, darker, narrower... passages kink and twist into the Weyr.

Kynance> Sasha is not an expert...she's attended birthings before, but only as an assistant... and her healer training is getting rusty. "Why didn't I keep up with the classes" she murmurs to herself angrily. "Is one of the more experienced healers around?" she looks around wildly

Kynance> Snicker. Well, Ilare would snicker at R'ave were Pyrene not.. well.. Just look at her! Oh dear.. Standing, brownrider doesn't go.. anywhere. Sasha, after all, has the training. And Lis has had kids before. Probably best if she stays /here/. Over here. Yup. Right? Concern is written across her features, eyes following the exiting goldrider. "Hope she's okay.."

Kynance> Lis steps into the shadows that lead back into the Weyr.
Lis moves in from the Caverns.

Glowlight bright reveals Healers' workplace.

Infirmary
Echoing and austere, blank stone walls are vaulted high to overshadow the row of white-curtained cots along the back wall. Ancient metal gleams steel-bright in the form of sinks and examination table, lit relentlessly by bright glows and reflecting the colours of bottles and jars shelved above. Padlocked cabinets hide the more dangerous drugs and implements, whilst healer paraphenalia litters one solid oak table with sweetly-fragranced herbs and tattered scrolls. A small hearth contains a fire usually banked low, several cauldrons set ready nearby to for heating water. A dark staircase twists up from one corner to the dragonhealer's lair; one low door leads into the lower caverns, another to weyrhealers' quarters. Barn-sized doors open inwards with creak of hinges from the ground weyr.
Comfortable on top of a cupboard are Sploink, Filia, Mercury, Caerulus, and Risidan.
You see Girta here.
You notice Donavan asleep here.
Kariel is here.
Obvious exits:
Ground Weyrs Inner Caverns Healers' Quarters

Lis ducks in from the inner caverns.

Kariel
Saffron laced with aureate gold graces the crown of this person caught in the wrath of indecision as far as looks go: not fully a man yet, but hardly a child. Jawline has traded in its once childish, slightly chubby contours for a distinct angle, giving his face a more distinguishable shape. Heighth has soared from its original five-foot-one upon arrival to the Reaches' spires to a looming and rather substantial six-foot even. Flaxen locks are touseled and disheveled, best described as a mop, with overhanging bangs that cast shadows on his northern, ivory countenance. Wide zaffer eyes are regaining their usual jovial cast, and can be caught peering from 'neath aforementioned bangs, adorned with the same long lashes and an expressive brow which gives hint to his mood at any moment in time. Pert, slighty upturned nose is centered betwixt only faintly roseate cheeks, and just above his narrow, pallid lips with only the slightest of blush tint to them. He's getting back to normal, slowly but surely.
Misty, mint green suede graces Kariel's form with it's soft touch in the form a tunic with long, supple sleeves, and a hemline that reaches a bit below his waist and is belted there with a slender cord of the same doe color. The pastel tunic fades downwards into wherhide pants, cut loosely of a doe-brown suede rather than one of the brighter shades. The tan shadows of the pants flow down over the tops of soft half-boots made of brushed wherhide in the same shade of a slightly darker sienna than the pants. Along the sleeves, neck, and hem of the tunic are small flits, embroidered in burnished silver, with wings of gold and dark green. Kariel's Bag o' Healer Stuff hangs loosely over Kariel's shoulder. Kariel wears Kariel's Listening Tube around his neck.
And another new knot adorns his shoulders, colors a four parted blaze: purple, white, black, and blue. Tassles and loops, what does it mean? Why, he's the new Weyrhealer of High Reaches. Run.
He is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Kariel's Bag o' Healer Stuff Kariel's Listening Tube
Kariel is 18 Turns, 8 months, and 3 days old.

Kariel is perched at his desk, mulling over a large book of somesort with his personal wine goblet in hand. Occasionaly, the flaxen-haired healer sips, deeply involved in his reading as an odd, bemused smirk shades his lips. He is oblivious to the entering squabble, being on the other side of the room. Sip.

Pyrene is here, is labouring, is not looking at all happy, especially as the two riders holding her up, dash straight back out again as soon as they reach the infirmary, barely propping her up against a wall first. "Kariiiiel!" she squeals, her lizards hum rising in pitch. Be oblivious to that.

Sasha ducks in from the inner caverns.

Lis flutters in after Pyrene, almost any pretense of order dropped and her headless-chicken reaction going full swing. "Oh, /shards/. Kariel, help!" she whines, zipping from Pyrene to the Healer and back again with curious time-altering skill. "Her waters are broken, her contractions are only... only a couple minutes apart, and I don't know how dilated she is." Not that Pyren would let her look...

Well. That was loud. He jolts in an abrupt manner, wine sloshing about in its glass and over the rim, a few stray drops splashing onto his book as he grimaces. Zaffer gaze then finds Pyrene and the peturbed look fades into one of sudden urgency as book is shut and quickly tossed aside, he rolling to his feet and setting the wine glass on the table. Without a word he scrambles towards the cabinet and tosses a gown Lis-wards, taking a deep breath. "Just calm down, Lis, and help her get into the gown." No need to panic. Nope. And so he proceeds on, moving to douse his hands in redwort at the sink.

Sasha ducks her head through the doorway and breathes a sigh of relief as she sees Kariel. "I am sooo glad you are here! I thought I'd have to be doing this myself!" she chuckles slightly..its more nerves than anything. "I was thinking that its good that Lis is here, she's done this more times than I have!" turning to go she smiles nervously at Kariel..."If you need any help, let me know....I'll go and reassure the others that Pyrene is in good hands..."

Pyrene would glare at the word dilation if it had a physical location. "Where's Catia? Isn't she on duty?" It's Cadgwith who answers that. "/How/ can she be out of the Weyr, /now/!" she wails, aiming a glower at Kariel who looks like he gets to see Pyrene from angles that most people wouldn't really want to know about. Another anguished look is thrown at Sasha, before she gives herself over to Kariel's instructions.

"It's the end of Pern, and /he/ wants me to calm down," grumbles Lis underneath the fabric of the gown which has been flung at her and ended up landing on her head. "Come on, Pyrene-love. Let's get you out of that soaked dress and into this gown. Nice, soft clean fabric, too," chirps the greenrider brightly as she paws her way into glowlight again, moving around behind Pyrene.

Kariel sighs as he looks to Pyrene apologetically and merely explains, "I /am/ the weyrhealer, Py. And a midwife, at that." So you're pretty much stuck. A spare redfruit lying around is chucked back at the healers quarters, if only an attention getting measure. Here, little appies and assistants. I need yooou. So he doesn't have to clean up the nasty stuff. 

The rest of Pyrene's lizard fair make their appearance, humming fit to split their throats, but the goldrider finds the energy to shoo them up to a shelf with a view where Kernow is in charge of making sure they don't break anything. Squirming into the gown, she tries to look as if she's perfectly comfortable with all this. The effect is ruined by the latest contraction, which makes her yelp.

Lis wrings her hands somewhere at waist height - it's a convenient way to occupy them and keep herself from launching herself onto Pyrene like the domineering mother hen she's tempted to be. The goldrider's got some twenty-some Turns behind her - she can take care of herself. "Oh, Py! Oh, /do/ sit down," she beseeches - /begs/ - of the mother-to-be, looking around with nervous head-turns for a clean and empty cot.

Kariel proceeds to gather his utensils: scalpel, blankets, forceps, etc. Each is gatherd on a tray at the foot of a cot, which he then signals Lis and PYrene towards. "If you'll lie here, please, Py?" Unless you don't want that little creature out of you.

Pyrene feels she's damned either way, but at least this way the weight's off her feet. How she manages to get onto the cot, she'll never know, but the mattress is good against her back up until the next contraction. "Can't I have some numbweed or something?" she hisses wildly as soon as it passes. "This is killing me? And /where's/ F'ish??" He /needs/ to be here so that she has a hand to break. She wouldn't feel right breaking Lis'.

Lis broke Tyara and D'renn's, mind you; perhaps it would serve her right that she got her own broken. "I'm sure he's out doing something very important, Pyrene. I know he wouldn't want to miss it." Of course, this is provided he's in his right mind. "At any rate, I'm here, Pyrene," she offers gallantly, taking her position at the side of the goldrider's cot.

Mikrori appears from the healers' quarters.

Kariel shrugs as he nabs a glowtube from his tray and kneels before the cot... taking Pyrene's feet and neatly placing them where they need to be. He then checks for dialation and nods, looking to a timecandle nearby and waiting for a contraction. Might as wll time them, eh? Helpful, that.

Sasha slips through the door to the inner caverns.

Just as Pyrene has assumed a position to make her thankful that there /isn't/ anybody else to witness this, F'ish rushes in, eyes aglow with some sort of parental euphoria. "From Cadgwith. To Arielth. To me. News. Arrives. My child. Our child. Fair Pyrene will labour. And bring forth. Fruit." Somehow, Pyrene does not look reassured. And there's the contraction Kare was waiting for.

Lis peers nervously at the various implements Kariel's ammassed for Pyrene's birth. "Are all those... really going to be necessary?" she asks in a small voice, watching the scalpels and other sharp things with a widening of big brown eyes. Distraction incarnate - aka Fish - enters, and the greenrider's eyes latch on him for a while, waving the bluerider over. "Take Pyrene's other hand," is her crisp order, and the rider looks a bit more mollified as she cows her fellow into doing so.

Kariel then begins to evenly tap a long, poised finger in a steady rhythm... mouthing numbers quietly. And waiting for yet another one. He's not ignoring Lis. He's just extremely preoccupied, you see. 

Mikrori ignores F'ish as she enters, he being one of those people her parents warned her about and one of the people she'd prefer to ignore, at the moment. She got a redfruit thrown at her. Or, at least, in her general direction. "I'm comin', I'm comin' -- don't yell at me for being late. I was busy." Yes-she-was. Pyrene and the general crowd are accorded with a wary glance, and the assistant-type directs herself Kariel-wards irritably. "Havin' a kid." She's observant. "Whaddaya want me t' do?" She's yet to notice his preoccupied state.

Pyrene stares at Kariel in agonised fashion, applying due pressure to F'ish's hand, making the bluerider's eyes cross. "Can't we, well, /do/ something, /now/?" Now that the pain's set in, she wants it to be over ASAP. "Or at least let me have numbweed. Or fellis."

Mikrori has disconnected.
Mikrori slips off her glasses and rests her head on something. Best to sleep when the world's fuzzy like that.

Lis can't help a satisfied smile from turning one corner of her mouth just the slightest bit as she watches F'ish's eyes cross. Serves him right for not being here on time. In this waiting, however, the greenrider has time to mull on just how wet her leathers had gotten, and what a nasty feeling all those 'waters' are when they're seeping in at the cuff of her boots and the seams at the laces.

Kariel continues to tap his finger, not listening to anyone, in his own little counting-type world. Tap. Forty. Tap. Fortyone.

Pyrene screams at the next contraction, mostly in a desperate attempt to get Kariel's attention. "This /hurts/," she yells at him after it's passed. "Just because you'll never have to go through it!" She also wrenches F'ish's hand again, to forestall another burst of lyrical sentiment. The bluerider closes his mouth and feebly tries to pry Pyrene's fingers off with his other hand.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she resounds, her hum coming out mentally, though now shot through which little spurts of anxiety. << It did not hurt when I laid my eggs. I think. >> she murmurs, seeking reassurance.

Kariel nods as he looks at PYrene, his couting finished with the contraction. "Calm /down/. There's nothing I can do for pain. I slather you with numbweed in there, it could hurt the baby. I fellis you, and you certainly won't push very well." Makes perfect logical sense, right? Right. And so he nods to F'ish briefly, continueing one in his calm, controleld, if a bit controlling baritone voice. "Now next contraction, I want you to give me a good push... think of pushing downwards instead of outwards." Now that made no sense. But... it works. Usually.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Chanticoth turns his attention away from humming a little tune to himself. << Well, if they laid eggs, it wouldn't hurt so much. Right? Maybe they keep them inside too long. >>

Lis twitters over Pyrene, murmuring encouraging nothings to the goldrider as she comandeers her other hand for the essential duty of comforting. Besides, the greenrider's got a weyrmate - spare hands, you know. "You're doing a good job, Pyrene. Just relax, and think about the baby being /out/."

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Sardrinth sounds confused ... still after all those turns he hasn't quite understood the concept. << Mine says their eggs are too small to be laid? >> 

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Branwyth knows very little about the ways of human reproduction, but offers soothing swirls of chamomile and mint. <<There are enough humans with more than one hatchling to make me think that it is normal for them.>>

"I don't /care/ if it hurts the baby," Pyrene wails. "It's hurting /me/ without it. Besides... Cadge is upset. And that'll upset the other dragons. And then the whole weyr will be upset. So it's much more sensible to give me numbweed!" Nails are now being used on the hands, and if she could move her feet, she'd probably kick Kariel.

"Life must be wrought from pain, but all is worth it when you see the gain," F'ish croons at Pyrene helpfully.

Kariel just rolls his eyes and waits patiently for the first push, twirling his glowtube in his hands. "Any second now. Just girt your teeth and bear down." Helpful, no?

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Soquilith rustles smoke-wrought curtains, a bitter scent steeling the slur of his soumd. << I guess it's gotta come out somehow >> he observes dryly, withdrawing with a faint inhlation. << Humans only have one at a time.. right? There's not room inside Cagdwith's rider for a whole clutch... >>

Lis nearly topples forward, as sharp nails dig into her skin, in an attempt to curl around the pain. A wordless squeal ensues, the greenrider biting hard on her own lip in distraction. At the very least, they'll be interesting scars to tell about, someday. "Can't we slop some of it on the /outside/, Kariel?" she begs helplessly, turning pained puppy eyes on the Healer.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she listens to the words and is only a little mollified. << I do not think that I like this healer. >> she decides. << Pyrene is hurting. The healer must be doing something wrong. >> Images of Kariel scurry disapprovingly through the link, but they aren't accompanied by a dragonclaw impaling him yet, so all is relatively well. 

Kariel shakes his head with a sigh... "Afraid not, Lis... but I can numbweed your hand real quick, if you'd like?" Stop some of your pain, at least. It's the best he can possibly offer at this point in time.

Pyrene releases Lis' hand in order to try and slap F'ish. Fortunately she can't quite reach him, and she frantically grabs at Lis again as her next contraction hits and she attempts to follow Kariel's advice. Another shriek sets the firelizards wheeling above them, and Lis is looked at with new respect. "You /did/ this /twice/??" she gasps hoarsely.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Branwyth offers a mental shrug, then the whirlign colours of her mind fade and diminsh a moment as she queries her lifemate with something. <<Sasha says that it always hurts.>> A rippling of the forest-hued waves indicates subtle disapproval. <<Humans are not very well made.>>

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Alymath descends on Soquilith curtains like a flame, sputtering through smoke with lava-lamp hues of neon purple and other-worldly lime. << Sometimes they have more than one, >> she flame-licks at the bronze. << Stupid. >> Drifing over to comfort the young gold again, she swirls inscense smoke past Cadgwith's imagaes. << Shhh. Things hurt to heal, Cadgwith. >>

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she roars physically as well as mentally now, and picking up on her rider's current attitudes lashes a veritable tsunami of anger at Arielth. << Your rider is /never/ to come near mine again!! >>

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Chanticoth sounds contemplative, semi-interest in the topic winding in green spirals. << Ilare says she doesn't want, or like, little baby humans. Shame. I think they're... cute. >>

Lis scowls down at Kariel as if he'd just insinuated that her father was a wherry and her mother smelled of wine. "No, /thank/ you," she states frostily, once again breaking down into simpering at Pyrene's gasp. "Twice, yes. But it's these childbearing hips, you know, that made it easier." One hand pats her sticky hip, the pair of which have nearly expanded to the circumference of her bustline.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Soquilith has the good graces to ignore Alymath, though the shelter of his mind-blinds fold into thicker waves of ebony. This also cushions him against Cadgwith's cacophany. << Whoa. >> 

Karielnods as he watches her push, grinning a bit. "Good job, Pyrene, good job..." But as he check progress, he furrows his brow to find nothing changed. Well, this one's being difficult, eh? It's happened before. And thusly he smiles at her, nodding again... "Push hard next time..."

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that Alymath verily gives up, staying out of the path of carnage Cadgwith is carving and instead sniping at Soquilith demeaningly, fading from the weyr ether.

Pyrene blinks tears of pain from her eyes. F'ish still has tears of joy in his, but the goldrider continues to pair them with agonised ones as her hands squeeze rhythmically. "Please, please, please," she pants, already anticipating the next contraction. Setting her teeth grimly, she bears down harder as asked, accompanied by a nice crescendo of a scream which subsides into querulous sobbing. "Shardit, that /hurts/. It's all true... It's worse."

Sentanta seeps in from between, golden body glistening in her arrival.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she is most likely wearing a groove in the ground weyrs, but she subsides a little, under orders of both Pyrene and most likely another gold dragon or two as well. << Humans are not well made. It is better the way we do it. Pyrene should not have any more children; I will do it now. >> she informs the weyr with storm-tossed decision.

Lis is behing very helpful in dissolving into an emotional puddle of goo, her own bottom lip shaking though she's not on verge of tears just yet. F'ish is glared at briefly, some scathing comment passed telepathically by a byway of Alymath and Arielth; crying joyfully while Pyrene - /her/ Pyrene - is sobbing in pain. "Just try a /little/ harder, Pyrene. Once the head's out, the rest of it almost slides," she offers helpfully.

Kariel grimaces at Pyrene's discomfort... wow. Not many women react like this. He peers again and a quizzical look corsses his face, but he tries to mask it with a, "Worse than what?" He's easily confused when focused on matters like this, you understand. "Good push... another one just like it next contraction..." You see? He nods at Lis in agreement, smiling in an utterly encouraging manner... not mentioning the baby's not even in the canal yet.

"Worse than they said, than I could imagine," Pyrene groans. F'ish finally does something useful and wipes her eyes and brows with a cool cloth, as she reaches another contraction and pushes yet again, even harder than before. "Owowowsharditshellsshardsowwwww!" And it passes.

F'ish
He is poetry in motion, a feline form, sleek and slim, a tall rangy fellow with feminine features and an artist's brooding pout. Dark, thick lashes, eyebrows thin yet equally dark- they frame the dreamy gray eyes that hide in the shadows of eye hollows. Smooth hands, long thin fingers, and skin so pale and soft that it seems almost transparent.
Ebony, aniline, murky midnight shimmers in lines of anthracite slinking down a tall, slim form that whispers Noir: Night. Sleek like oil, knee-high boots and weyrhide gloves of darkest pitch hide all skin from view, save the pale skin of a face hidden halfway by a thick satin ribbon, the darkness disturbed by two eyeholes revealing mysterious gray eyes beneath. Raven feathres of hair peek out wispy from beneath a lopsided beret, and of course, the indigo cloak swirls about him.

F'ish blinks rather dreamily at Pyrene, gray eyes clouded with...well, F'ishie thoughts. "Like pushing a dragon through a keyhole, soon, my spawn shall emerge. " He's sympathetic, see? "Push, ye fair Pyrene, push!" He throws a hand to his head, palm up dramatically. "Ah the beauty of birth blinds me."

Only because Pyrene can't reach his eyes right now.

"Come /on/, Pyrene, you can do this! You Impressed Cadge, you kissed D'renn - Faranth, you slept with /B'art/," Lis offers with manic cheer, her hysteria manifesting itself into some awful form of Pernese cheerleading. "You can have a baby. Any idiot can have a baby." Any idiot can make a baby, too. F'ish being the poster-child.

Pyrene is privately certain that she burst some vital brain-cells with the effort of that last push. Her whole lower half seems to be awash with agony, but bizarrely she's taking heart from Lis-cheering, bracing herself for the next contraction with glazed eyes (while her nails keep pumping into F'ish's hand). Behind the double doors to the infirmary can be heard the ponderous sound of a gold dragon pacing the floor.

Kariel is glad to no longer be dubbed poster child of that particular opinion. He peeks once more into the unknown and shines his glowtube, and then has his brows knit together. What the shards is going on here? "Pyrene? I'm going to watch next push, just to make sure everything's going alri..." And his words drop off quickly as a small trail of blood is noticed. And he blinks. That doesn't happen usually. Um. "Alright. That okay?" he continues, forcing his voice to be bright. Nothing's wrong. Really.

F'ish points. "Blood! Thick! Red! Pain, like the kind that's going through my hand..." He falls to his knees. "Gah! Blood!" Thump. F'ish is out. Cold. Cold F'ish.

Pyrene blinks fuzzily at Kariel--or in the direction of his voice. He's not really at the best angle for /her/ viewing right now. "Fine!" she gasps out, even as her arm is yanked to one side as F'ish passes out. She yelps at that pain, and then segues that noise into sobbing silence as she again bears down hard. Stupid, wretched male. 

Lis caught that - she saw the blink. Eyeing Kariel nervously, she attempts to sneak a peek at Pyrene's nether regions without alerting the woman. The compulsive babble keeps up to brighten the goldrider's spirits, and the plan's shot ::between:: and back by F'ish's aghast announcement and subsequent fainting. "Erm, Pyrene, it sort of bled a little when I gave birth too, I think." An arm sneaks around Pyrene's shoulders, and a warm squeeze given as she bravely submits her hands for more torture.

Pyrene had actually assumed there must be fountains of blood coming out by this time since that's how it feels. How is she to know that that's not natural? If anything, Lis' attempts at reassurance is what alerts her to the fact that's something's up, but for now she's quite firm that it's Kariel's problem. He can fix it. She refuses to do anything other than push, and that is preferably optional.

Kariel groans at F'ish and shakes his head, before looking back and watching the push... subsequently, the blood picking up it's flow. (Now should be the passing out. :P) And then he sees it... the baby's round rear end. And not its head. "Bloody shards." he growls in frustration as he watches the bloodflow pick up... she's ripped something. Shadrit. Shardit all between. He suddenly hops up and begins to pace, thinking of options. This is time to go frantic.

Pyrene can see Kariel now and he's pacing instead of paying attention to her painful areas of anatomy. That's not what she wants. She trembles on the cot, still too consumed with pain to really focus on worrying about anything else and looks at Lis for advice. Her throat's been rasped too sore with screams for her to attempt talking just now.

Lis is already begond going frantic - she got that out of her system earlier, and for Pyrene's sake, she's got to be the sane one. F'ish is no help, in a collapsed pile on the floor. Kariel is stared at with her jaw dropped and mouth gaping, and both work hard to produce the sentence that comes out. "You can't do that!" The pacing, that is. "You're supposed to get this baby out, blood or otherwise."

F'ish is a /cute/ collapsed pile on the floor.

F'ish is a dead collapse pile, just as soon as Pyrene has the strength to kick his arse.

Kariel spins to look at Lis as he looks at Pyrene and holds his bloody hands up forcefully and insists. "Stop pushing. Even if you feel like you have to." And then he glares at Lis... giving her a don't even doubt me look. "Lis. May I speak to you a moment?" Since you're the only one not on the floor or giving birth?

Lis eyes Kariel sideways, clearly reluctant to leave Pyrene alone even to speak with Kariel. "It'll be alright, Pyrene. I promise I won't leave, or... faint." A disgusted look is shot at F'ish as she steps quickly to the Healer's side, hissing, "/What/?"

Pyrene /wanted/ to stop pushing true, but she didn't want the order to come in that tone of voice. She starts trembling harder and the panting gasps that her breath's coming in are no longer entirely due to labour. "B-b-but..." she starts to try and formulate a question but abandons it in favour of Not Pushing. Which /is/ surprisingly hard. "Oh, shells..." she whispers after it.

<High Reaches Weyr> Cadgwith senses that she surfaces again with whitecapped anxiety. No words, just an anxious wash over the nearest minds.

Kariel looks at Lis plaintively as he slowly turns his back to Pyrene, so lipreading isn't availiable. Hands wring together, leaving bloody streak on his palm as he murmurs, "The baby's breech, Lis. And she's ripped. I never thought about it... I've never had it happen before..." And tears come to his eyes. He's still young, even with a pretentious title. "I... I'm going to have to cut in and get the baby out, Lis... and I've not done it on anything except a feline." Gotta love Healer training, neh? "I... try and explain it to her... I need to go get the materials." And he sprints off to redwort his hands again.

Lis' eyes go wide, /very/ wide, as she hears first the condition of Pyrene's baby - making a nervous quip about anything Pyrene spawning being perverse in some sort of cosmic justice - and what Kariel proposes do to about it. "Oh, mishardandshells," she squeaks, shuffling back over to Pyrene to put it nicely. "Pyrene, it turns out the baby is... well, it's a breech. I think that means it's backwards, but at /any/ rate, we can't get it out of you the regular way. Kariel's just going to cut into your belly and take it out. Quick and easy, no more pushing."

Any remaining colour drains out of Pyrene's face there and then, and she :stares at Lis for one long, horrified moment before slowly starting to shake her head. "No... oh no... I can't," she half-whispers, half-weeps, her eyes stark under the tears. "Please... don't let him..."

Lis places a hand on both of Pyrene's shoulders, steadying her and trying to impart some conviction into the frighteningly pale goldrider. "Py, you're going to have to. We can't leave the baby in, and that's the only way it'll come out. Think about the terrific scar you'll have, too," she attempts to kid, though it comes out mostly desperate and clutching-at-straws-like.

Kariel turns around and sees this, pondering exactly how much time he has and deciding to risk it as he goes to her bedside and kneels. "Pyrene, I don't have another option... if I did, I'd do it... this is my last resort... I'm just going to make an incision right below your bikini-line. You won't feel a thing, I'll have you numbweeded up... trust me?" Please, Faranth, trust him. Because someone needs to, and Kare isn't so sure he trusts hismelf right now.

Pyrene gets past the first shock with the speed of desperation and fixes Kariel with an intense gaze, for all her exhaustion. No less fierce is her voice, now little more than a croak. "Just remember, Kariel... I'm not dying for this child. Not with Cadgwith." The ground weyrs themselves are un-naturally silent; A junior queen, Mitria's Salbith, is restraining Cadgwith.

Kariel nods slowly as he rolls out of the seat, moving to slather numbweed on her belly as he covers her lower half with a blanket. Gown is pulled up to her chest and he burgeoning belly revealed as he begins to feel about, finding the baby's position and then numbweeding... brow heavily furrowed. "Lis, please go an put a blanket on the counter for the baby..." It'll be a bit. But it'll be there.

Lis watches the business of going about slicing up Pyrene with demented fascination, sort of like the way one watches a car accident. Still, the greenrider manages to tear her eyes from what promises to be ghastly, to search for a blanket, muttering to herself.

Pyrene cries again as another contraction wracks her body, finding it harder and harder to fight the instinct to push. One hand reaches out for Lis, grasping at the air as if it can summon her hand back. And another contraction consumes her again.

Lis turns around with damn near telepathic instinct, blanket over one hand, to gallop gracefully across the infirmary and into Pyrene's pathetic grasp. "Oh, Pyrene... I'm here, I'm /here/!" murmurs desperately, trying to restrain herself from squeezing the goldrider's hand as hard as it's being squeezed.

Pyrene's hand has all but turned into a vice as she clutches Lis, as if anchoring herself as she tries to keep still on the bed, when her body writhes with every contraction. "I can't do this," she mouths, screwing her eyes shut, not that she can see anyway.

Kariel then quietly grabs the scalpel, clsoing his eyes and willing his hand to stop shaking. "Just don't watch, Pyrene... Look at Lis... just don't look." And with that, numbweeded stomach is delved into with the blade, eyes locked on what he's doing as those nimble fingers of his become useful in making a clean cut along the underside of her stomach.

Pyrene can't feel a thing fortunately adn her eyes are long since closed, her lips moving incoherently, her hand squeezing Lis, but when her body tenses, it's for what is hopefully the last contraction.

Lis puts trembling fingers under Pyrene's chin, attempting to turn the goldrider's head to look at her. A wavering smile is put on, and those fingers move to tuck a lock of hair behind her charge's ear tenderly, rescuing a damp cloth and dabbing at the mother-to-be's hot forehead. "Oh, Pyrene. You can do this. I /know/ you can," she murmurs, trying to keep the quaver out of her words of encouragement.

Kariel takes a deep breath as one hand pulls the flaps of skin and he forces himself to be indifferent to whom it is he's cutting... fingers searching around until he finds the baby filled womb and sighs quietly. Pulling the tissue so it has flack and he doesn't cut the baby, he makes an incision there as well, and a tiny, blue arm escapes the gash. "Shardit between." he whispers to himself as he reaches in and slides the baby out, finding it blue. And a cord about it's neck. Not good indeed. A dilemma quickly runs through his head as he's left to decide perhaps between one life and another... to wait to resuscitate, or wait to sew. But Pyrene's words echo in his ear and so, baby in the crook of his arm and quickly unwrapping the cord from around its body, he moves to cut the umblical cord... when an unwitting senior apprentice traipses out of the Healer's Quarters. "Thank Faranth. he cries as the girl looks bewilderedly at him, and he yells at her to 'redwort and come and stitch.' Now. As she does, he threads the needle in preparation for her... looking down at the baby in honest worry. 

Pyrene's eyes open as she feels and hears Lis, her face blank with exhaustion, and body limp as she gives up on everything and lets Kariel deal with it. A slow blink is the only reply Lis may content herself with, but perhaps it's better than nothing. Certainly, the goldrider is taking no further interest in the proceedings from her belly downwards, nor the child that's been the source of all this trouble.

Lis gives Pyrene an utterly beautific smile, as if she had singlehandedly relieved Pern of its ancient menace. "It's over, Pyrene. The baby's out." No comments on the condition of said sprog, or the mother. She'll let Kariel handle /that/.

Senior appy quickly scuttles over and begins to sew as Kariel rushes over to the counter and blanket, finger delving into her little mouth and scooping out the blockage... and still no breath. And thusly, he bends down and, pinching her tiny nose lightly, he lets a tiny puff of air into her mouth before taking a single finger and pushing on her little chest in rhythmic form. "C'mon, hon... cry for me..." he whispers before puffing again... a sucker for babies. She can't die. She /can't./

Pyrene closes her eyes in relief at Lis' words and goes completely still. There is still no sound from Cadgwith beyond the double doors, and so it's evident that Pyrene is still conscious, even if she is too tired and weary to do anything beyond sending her mind to her dragon.

An armtwitch and then a wail, and Sephne has decided to bless the world with her glowing, pink little presence. With avengence. Kariel sighs in relief as he reaches over and dampens a cloth, washing her tiny little form and then looking to Pyrene... sighing. He wraps the infant in its blanket and then gathers it into his arms... holding her in one arms as he gets water and sets it by Pyrene's cot with a straw. Straw is then positioned to rest against her mouth as he murmurs, "Drink as much as you can..." before baby is eyed as it whimpers and squirms, and he pulls a rocking chair next to her cot and holds the child close.

Pyrene blinks slightly focusing again on the infirmary, but she obediently takes the straw into her mouth and sucks weakly. She pauses for a moment, and between breaths rattles out: "When can I go back to my weyr?" Never mind how she /feels/, she wants to see Cadge.

Kariel sighs as he rocks the baby, watching her closely. "When I'm sure you're well enough to go home and sufficiently function." he insists, the baby's finger curling aorund one of his long ones. "I'll watch... what's her name?" That's kinda important. "And Cadge will be right outside in the ground weyrs..."

"Cadgwith?" Pyrene wonders hoarsely, misinterpreting his question. She's already forgotten the small matter of the foetus being a baby now. Fortunately, F'ish rises to the occasion. Literally. The bluerider comes around just in time to hear Kariel's words. "My child? A daughter? Sephne, she shall be, and her beauty shall outshine that of her name." Pyrene catches on, and merely closes and opens her eyes in indifferent assent.

Kariel offers the baby and his seat to F'ish, now that he's alive... and smirks. "Make sure Pyrene drinks. And don't leave her side. I'll be in my room." Tending to his own fetus-carrying one. 

Sephne
The little-old-man wizened face sits incongruously on top of the waving slug-plump limbs, yet there's something winning about the snugly contented expression and the carelessly satisfied grasping of fingers and toes. Tufted curls of black hair cap her head, while face and body proclaim health in undeniable pink--not to mention the small but blithely constant movements of whatever part of her has the ability of self-animation. Interaction with a world she knows nothing about is inevitably limited, but she's already prioritised. Though her eyes may be too screwed up to show colour or even if they're open, her mouth is less shy about displaying darker pink gums and tongue or about performing its party trick of blowing milky drool bubbles.

Pyrene
Her dark brown hair remains unchanged, its plait as skimpy as ever, but the rest of her looks oddly deflated. Her waist still thickened from pregnancy while new motherhood emphasises the curves above, her spindle-thin limbs seem wasted against a frame that's now merely short rather than slight. That pointed face is paler again than it used to be, and her storm-bright grey eyes are shadowed to the illusion at least of weariness. But there's still that air of resolution present, promising that, whatever her physical state, in herself she is as sharp as ever.
Pyrene is 23 Turns, 9 months, and 6 days old.

[End of log]