The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Saturday 10 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Wyn.
Bathtime Therapy
High Reaches Weyr: Baths
Steam enshrouds, a misty curtain that veils the room. Pools abound, water
constantly swirling, warm and inviting; soapsand waits on nearby ledges for easy
access. Racks of clothes stand by the door, freshly washed clothing hang from
some, and bundles of yet to be washed clothes fill mutliple baskets beneath.
Large cupboard doors open to reveal multitude of fresh, soft towels, and plenty
of bathing items -- sponges, pumice stones, and back scrubbers.
Ducking steamclouds are five firelizards.
C'radoc is but a blur in the steam, moving quietly in from the caverns.
Thiern is but a blur in the steam, moving quietly in from the caverns.
It's been a busy time for Weyrsecond Wyn. Quite frankly, the petite bluerider has been catching herself wondering if she weren't better off just staying put in Igen, with a lot of rivergrain wine for company. But duty drove her home, and now shirking said duty, if only for an hour or so, has driven her into the baths. And so here the woman sits. Or floats, more accurately, eyes closed as she sinks into the warm water, leaned back against the wall as if she can somehow become one with it. And she's blessedly, blissfully alone.
C'radoc slides quietly into the baths with a yawn, holding one hand gently in the other, busted knuckles being nursed with a frown. "Stupid Axle..." Is mumbled under his breath as he makes himself ready to enter the baths. Not really paying attention to anyone else at the moment, not until he has slid into the blissfully warm water, eyes hover between open and closed as he relaxes.
Or not. A wandering, depressed Cloudburst greenrider -- that of Thiern -- has found her way to the baths and is hoping for some peace and quiet herself. Slipping into a bath near Wyn's, she only acknowledges C'radoc quickly. "Hey," she whispers to her wingmate carefully, before slipping back into her sullen silence. Poor Thi. Down on her luck.
Wyn may have her eyes closed, but her ears are in working order. It doesn't take more than a few footsteps and quiet splashes to let her know she's no longer alone. A flicker of irritation crosses her still features, before she wipes it away and peeks out through veiling lashes to see who's who. Cloudburst riders. Wonderful. But with a minor guilty twinge at such selfishness, she once again smooths her face into expressionlessness, inhales, and then sits up straight, on duty once again. "Thiern?" she wonders gently, glancing over and making a tentative ID of the greenrider. "I haven't been able to speak with you before, but you have my condolences... and if there's anything I can do to help poor L'vek..." She trails off, leaving it at that. And if, shorn of her knot, she's mistaken for a mindhealer instead of herself, so much the better.
C'radoc opens his eyes for a moment to give a soft comforting smile to the greenrider, his has ambitions but he's not heartless and he's feeling the loss too. "If there is anything I can do...." He speaks softly to her as not to disturb the other bathers, but when Wyn speaks he sits up enough to give her a nod in greeting.
"Thank you both," Thiern replies quietly, feeling quite cared for by everyone's kind words but still listless. "I'm much better than L'vek is ... If I could get him to speak to -anyone-, I would send him to you, Weyrsecond." She recognizes Wyn as both a mindhealer and the Weyrsecond, and will address her as both. "I don't know if he'll last. He seems to be completely lost, sometimes." She's afraid for her friend, and her dragon is very down.
"Simply because you're 'much better' doesn't mean you're all right," Wyn points out still-gently, deciding that therapy, rather than politics, is the order of the day here. Much more restful, after all. "If you'd like to talk some time, Thiern, my weyr is always open to visitors, and I have rather a lot of tea laid in. I may not have walked the tables before Vorkoroth interceded, but I know what the dragonriding life is like, unlike a full Healer... and if you think it might help, I'll go see L'vek myself." she decides, nodding once as if to wedge open a space in her crowded schedule by willpower alone. C'radoc's nod, noticed earlier, finally earns him one in kind from the bluerider, who tosses in a once-over free of charge, her gaze lingering on his injured knuckles.
C'radoc stands in the bath, splashing water gently over his shoulders and hair, thinking, "I don't think talking is going to help L'vek." He frowns deeply looking at Wyn, "With all do respect Weyrsecond Wyn, I know you know a lot about dragonrider's life, but you don't know what it is like to lose a dragon, none of us do." His brow furrow, "Perhaps it would be best to just let him go, he will never be whole again." He may speak in harsh words but his voice is gentle and as comforting as possible.
"If it's clear that he'll never be whole again, then I'll get him a cup of fellis wine myself and hold it while he drinks." Wyn replies calmly, turning in her seat to look over at C'radoc. The answer has an immediacy that suggests Wyn hasn't just thought this all up on the spur of the moment. "But the mind is a resiliant thing, and where there is life, there is hope. There is a time and a place to offer the mercy of death, and I don't believe it will be at all easy for him to live, but I can't simply let a man go without at least trying." And then, more quietly and mostly to herself. "I don't care -what- time he's from."
Thiern continues to pale at the nature of the conversation -- losing L'vek would certainly toy with her emotions quite a bit, and he's long been a friend to her. "I don't think that letting him go would be the best idea," she states nervously, "I was a Healer too, once upon a time ... it must have been quite a time ago, now ... and I don't think even L'vek is ready to totally let go." Or maybe Thiern just isn't ready to let go of L'vek? Either is possible.
C'radoc smiles sadly and nods, "As you women think best. I long ago learned that a woman's mind is unexplainably more in tune with other people than a mans." He bows softly in respectfulness, "However, I will leave this conversation with this, there is a reason that dragons between when their riders die, and I think that dragonriders should not be denied the same honour." With that he bows out of the conversation by changing it, "How goes the quaratine, I hear another blue rider broke it."
Wyn seems about to offer a rebuttal to C'radoc's statement, no doubt something logical and along the lines of dragons requiring a partner to function at all, but her mouth closes firmly before she can give voice to it, perhaps deciding that, with a modicum of tact, sitting in the baths after a tragic event isn't the best time for debating metaphysics. She shrugs somewhat, and allows the subject change, after a reach over to pat Thiern's shoulder reassuringly. "Ah yes... well, Pyrene's washed her hands of it and left me in charge of it, so as soon as I can finish convincing the weyrhealers that the research I did while exiled is accurate, we should have it lowered. And yes, Kh'ryn, blue Zylpheth's. Old friend of mine whom I ran into in Igen... he'd been staying there and examining the bottoms of a lot of bottles of spirits since his weyrmate passed on from a wasting sickness about three turns ago. I, ah, suggested he might wish to return home as his children needed him. Apparently he decided to take me up on the suggestion right -now-." A wry smile. Oh, isn't Pyrene going to be in a fine temper.
"In charge of it? That must be a hassle, to say the least ..." Thiern appreciates Wyn's friendly touch of the shoulder, and responds with a simple smile. "Zylpheth. Almost sounds like Zipheroth, just a little bit ..." It's a tad of a forlorn remark, but it seems that Thiern is getting used to the idea. As a dragonhealer, she also concurs with Wyn's unspoken statement about dragons needing their riders. "Examining bottles of drink ... that sounds incredibly boring, but I suppose if he were so upset, it was somewhat of a good way to relieve stress ..." Lots of ellipses.
C'radoc eyes softly, "Yes well, punching a resident infront of her yesterday didn't highten her mood any." He relents softly, of course now he has someone to do all the dirty work that comes with having a dragon. "Not that he didn't deserve it." He dips under the water, "Of course, it will mean having to tip toe around her for a few days, or a sevenday or two." He sighs, quietly, "I hope you are getting some rest Wyn, the leadership around here has to be able to stand on it's toes."
"I believe it's likely Pyrene's subconscious attempt to make the punishment fit the crime of breaking quarantine in the first place." is Wyn's wry remark to Thiern, noting the forlorn quality in her voice, but attempting not to coddle the greenrider unless she wants it. "If I know so sharding much about the plague to risk myself, then clearly I should be doing the work on it, not her, hmm? But we work together well when there's work to be done, so that's the important part." The bluerider winks, and then reaches over to snag herself a floating bowl of soapsand. After lathering it to a workable amount of foam, she stands to start washing her hair, and manages to spare C'radoc a shrug. "Naturally. If you've not got your health, you've not got anything... and have you had anyone take a look at that hand, yet?"
C'radoc chuckles softly and winces as soap soaks into his busted knuckles, "No, they're fine. I hit him a little harder than I meant too." He grins slightly, "They should heal up on their own, and whats one more scar?" He chuckles quietly.
Thiern is slow, and hadn't noticed C'radoc's hand before, but now her glance travels to it quickly and her face is laced with concern. "Oh ... what did you -do-? I mean, I know you punched someone, but ... ow. That doesn't look too good. Perhaps let the Weyrsecond patch it up?" She's pretty sure Wyn is competent enough to handle that. "And I don't know if you'd really want that to scar, either. It could cause a lot of pain for quite a while." Of course, it's been forever since Thi did anything Healerish at all with humans.
Wyn simply clucks her tongue and continues to wash her hair, making no move to grab C'radoc and sit on him until she can fix his hand (-That- would be rather interesting to see, after all.) but noting that "You do realize that scarring and damage to your knuckles will likely land you with joint ail when you're older, not to mention cutting into your manual dexterity -now-, which could pose you some problems with sewing straps." A pause and a hint of a smirk over her bare shoulder. "Unless you're planning on taking Axle back through time with you to do your scutwork there as well." And here we have Wyn's opinion that of course the oldtimers, having the dragons and the charts to go home again, will want to. "See, Thiern agrees with me."
C'radoc smiles softly as the woman scolds him, looking at her for the first time as more than just the weyr second, he is a male after all, and she is bathing herself. "A good point Weyrsecond Wyn...Of course I am already old, so by the time the joint pain sets in I'll get long dead." His eyes twinkle mischeviously, and with a glint of ambition. He walks over to the edge of his bath and closer to the edge of Wyn's, holding out his hand, "You think you can do anything for it?" He asks softly, adding, "Be gentle with an old man." He says and nods to Thiern, "I suppose you are right, "Thank you for your concern, rider."
"Nonsense," replies Wyn with a hint of warmth in her tone, meeting that twinkle in the older rider's eyes with a matching one in her own, although perhaps less the ambition, but with a little intrigue added to make up for it. "You're only as old as you feel. Now, let me see if I can't help you to stay feeling young." Any double entendre in that statement is made doubtful by the fact that she's rinsed her hair and ducked out of the bath to sit on the edge of it with his hand between hers, manner gone medical despite a towel replacing more formal apparel. "Hrm. Well, you've got a great deal of swelling forming, I'd reccomend willowsalic tea for that. And then I've got a salve I got off of a friend that's excellent for broken skin." Wyn won't mention that it's designed for use on runnerbeasts. "Yes. Just take care of it rather than ignoring it in order to appear manly." A sly wink. "And you ought to be just fine."
C'radoc chuckles softly and winks, "Well in that case I'm only 25!" He jokes, likewise pulling himself out of the water and wrapping himself in a towel, "Do you think you have time to show me how to take care of it? I mean I'd hate to take up any of your time that you don't have, but if your willing." He edges closer to her, and holds out his hand to her again, "Of course, if I'm not as manly as I appear, could you keep it between us?" He flashes a smile at the woman, white teeth gleaming.
Wyn offers a quiet laugh in reward for C'radoc's sally, picking up another towel from the stack and twisting her hair into it, up and out of the way and not dripping water down her neck. "While I think I may take to timing it myself in order to add a few more hours to my day..." she drawls. "I think I may be able to fit you in. As I said to Thiern, my weyr is quite open to visitors. Provided they knock first. In your case, however," She takes the hand again, examining range of motion for his fingers as gently as she can, but without any repentance at eliciting winces. "I think we'd probably best forgo the knocking, hmm? And of course. Healer/patient privilege, don't you know." she waves off, releasing his hand and then standing to go wander over to the cubby where her clothing is waiting, once again talking over her shoulder. "Even if my patients these days usually have wings and a tail on."
C'radoc chuckles softly and nods, "Yes, yes healer/patient privlege." Can't help but wonder how far that privilege extends. And after dressing himself, carefully making sure that she notices that he is trying to hide every wince that is caused by brief contact with his knuckles. "I wish I had a way to pay you back for your kindness, however I can help you, let me know." A soft smile crosses his lips.
"I'll be sure to let you know if I think of something." Wyn smiles in return. It's a subtle change from the woman's usual demurring that repayment isn't necessary, but C'radoc needn't know that. Just like he needn't know that Wyn has a long memory, a fierce loyalty to friends, and that a certain Cadgwith-flight wasn't all that long ago. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, as the weyrsecond dresses herself, combs her hair into it's usual center part, and gives a warm smile to both remaining denizens of the baths. "A pleasure talking to you both like this. And Thiern? Do stop by, please?" That, at least, is genuine. And then out the Wyn goes.
