Visiting Hours

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Infirmary
This long, rectangular cavern smells faintly of antiseptic and strongly of pleasant medicinal herbs. The general atmosphere is one of bustling but orderly quiet and strict cleanliness. The back of the room is dominated by a small hearth for heat and medicinal preparations and by swinging double doors that lead to a small DragonHealing bay, an emergency surgery for human patients, the main storage, and the staff area where Healers can eat, shower, change, and the like during their longer shifts. The front of the room is a waiting and reception area where patients and staff can check in to receive treatment and begin work, respectively. The east wall of the room features examination, birthing, recovery and outpatient treatment rooms while the opposite wall is curtained off to provide privacy and bed-space for patients requiring overnight care.

Western can certainly handle most of the routine and sometimes urgent treatment needs of its residents here. It lacks some of the equipment available at the main Healer Hall. Once they are stabilized, patients requiring specialized or ongoing care are surely transferred there.


OH LOOK. It's another day in paradise; Ila'den is currently (against orders) propped up against approximately 1 billion pillows. Half of his face is bandaged, his mouth is wired shut, his hands are bandaged, and he's mending more broken bones than is comfortable to admit (therefore rending him relatively immobile). He does have use of his hands, however, which he is putting to good use by attempting to read a book - and by attempting, I mean the man is staring blankly at the curtain opposite with the book held limp between his fingers. His hair is askew, he's got a nasty looking smoothie concoction in front of him with an emergency induction port (read: STRAW), and what was once a man littered with ominous masses of muscle is now… well… not what he was. A healer peeks in to tut at him, but that's it. That's the extent of his human interaction - for now, at least. Day time seems to be the loneliest point, when Risali is tending her duties at Xanadu and R'hyn is being punished by extended weyrlinghood for going out looking after being given express orders not to. SIGH. No, really, Ila'den's sighing, and looking back down at the book with his SINGLE REMAINING EYE as if he might just give the material another go.

Taeski has spent plenty of time in infirmaries. However Ila'den might /not/ want to believe him, he spent his last bit of time in the renegade camps working there to help patch people up. /Not/ to take them apart. For all that he has been disappeared out of Half Moon since the rescue, he heads quietly into the infirmary now. There's a brief glance around though for anyone that might /stop/ him, before he makes his way around to that secluded little area where Ila'den has been kept. There's a quiet bit of staring for what's left of the rider, before he simply walks himself in closer. There will /be/ no hesitation here. He simply comes alongside that bed and picks up the strange liquid concoction meant to nourish the broken-jawed man, and makes a face. "…Well that looks..appetizing." It's set down again before he takes to looking at Ila'den, arms folding a bit protectively over his middle. "…Hi. You look less dead than before."

Guess who is not happy? That seventeen turn old kid right there, that's what. Jaw set firmly into a clench, golden eyes narrowed, every muscle tense as J'en follows along behind Taeski. Leketh is out in the bowl, not blocking the entrance and back to his normal goofy self, currently doing a horrible job flirting with a pretty green lady who looked like a hatchling compared to his bulk. Sadly, he was destined for gold flights only, and he couldn't even do that right 99.9% of the time. Jae finds a spot along the wall minus equipment and supplies for the healing thing and leans, crossing his arms over his chest and looking very intimidating. How long had it been since the two boys took off for wherever it was that they went? Had they gotten taller? Had they been eating right? Who cares? Whatever the case may be, the youngest bronzerider in the room isn't looking at the oldest, apparently just here as moral support and taxi service for the former renegade there.

Less dead, but not much better. Ila'den is still clearly fighting fever, and when that grey eye rises to look at Taeski (as his nephew makes his way past PRIVACY CURTAINS), his gaze is glossy enough to suggest that maybe, just maybe he's riding this out on copious amounts of fellis juice or internal other stuff that I cannot remember the name of (FIGHT ME). Ila'den's eye trails the renegade's abduction of his nutrition — and subsequent release of it — before that single eye trails to J'en. There's no reaction for either teenager - there's no growl, no curling of his face in disgust, at least not until Teimyrth comes along to be his rider's voice when Ila'den cannot speak. And oh, but the dragon comes. J'en might have a buffer in the form of Leketh, but Taeski doesn't, and it's KNOWN that Teimyrth's mindvoice is anything but gentle - even for his own rider. The freezing white-wash of winter sets in, a blizzard of boundless, unending cold in an unseeable forest of pine; the dragon is all metaphysical talons and claws, digging into flesh and bone to rend and rip and tear as veins freeze and turn to slush, preceding the brain-freeze headache that his voice will surely induce. « Leave. » But instead of the usual, immediate retreat, Teimyrth lingers in flecks of falling white as the blizzard calms and he waits. What probably saves J'en and Taeski is Kiltara's timely appearance around that curtain, the tiny arguably haggard looking woman damn-near bumping into J'en and pausing just shy of doing that as grey eyes blink up at him, then over to her son, then over to Ila'den and — a sigh. "Ila'den, they helped save you. Be nice." Ila'den's brow raises, and Kit gives him a look. "I know you well enough to know you've probably got Teimyrth being unpleasant - stop." And it comes, a rasp of breath that's probably laughter but sounds painful as Kit navigates her way past broody bronzers and murderer children to grab Ila'den's NASTY SMOOTHIE and force it at him. "And please drink. They didn't save you so you could starve yourself to death." And here it comes - a pause, as Ila'den (looking unrepentant but subdued), obeys his sister and Kiltara rounds on the other two. Her gaze lingers on J'en, but her attention is clearly on her son. She even reaches out one tiny hand to cup his cheek and thumb the crest of it. "You probably shouldn't be here." But there's no anger, no accusation, no dismissal; it's just a mother worried for her child, worried for her brother, doing what mothers do best and worrying. "Anyway, where have you two been?" Because yeah, she's gonna boss you around too, J'en. FIGHT HER.

That sudden cold and pain, and /everything/ that is Teimyrth has Taeski rocking slightly, eyes half-shut in an attempt to not be completely cowed and retreat from all that is the bronze. If there's any wonder why he's reluctant about dragons being in his mind…wonder no more. His jaw clenches a little though..and at least nothing /else/ happens before Kiltara appears around that curtain. Saved! He waits though, looking like he might actually say something but instead glances at J'en. A quick look for his weyrmate, thankful in all ways, really, that he's not totally alone for the moment. But then his mother is right /there/, and Tae simply relents enough to simply wrap her right up in a tight hug. Who cares who's watching? HMPH. "Where /should/ I be, then?" It's strained when the words come out, but the teenager shakes his head a little and pulls back somewhat. "Xanadu…"

There is a low growl, which was not nice either, from J'en when he feels the attempt from Teimyrth to scrape nastily against his mind. It probably wasn't a leap to assume, considering the change in his weyrmate's demeanor, that this was extended to Taeski as well. Leketh stretches his influence over both boys, a pulsing pudding of darkness suspended by silvery threads of spinner silk smoothed out like packaging material to act as a buffer between them and the volitile bronze. It was all that either of them could do really to protect Tae from that completely unprovoked attack, even if it's brought Jae off of the wall and taking a half step towards the wounded old man. Luckily for all, that Kiltara arrives and sweeps past him when she does, or else it might of gotten ugly real fast. He doesn't have any idea who that woman is, but considering the family resemblace and despite popular opinion J'en was not stupid. He can add one and one together and get two. Still, the thousand and one ways that he was imagining killing Ila'den right then and there was as plain as the nose on his face as brows furrow, his jaw clenching harder, and the way his hands form tight fists seconds before the gentleness of Taeski's mother snaps him out of it. He doesn't interupt the reunion between apparent mother and son, but the level of his discomfort caused by being there at all was really starting to settle in.

YOU WANNA GO, J'EN? The minute the bronzerider comes off of the wall like he's going to remedy the Teimyrth mindvoice situation, Ila'den's eye fixates — and Teimyrth stirs, a growing growl that starts low and turns into a howl of rage that can be heard even within the infirmary as wingsails unfurl and the beast snaps. « Do not threaten mine, » comes quick, more vicious than before, as if the first display of teeth and claws was mere child's play compared to the onslaught he unleashes now - though it is likely to be buffered by Leketh. But there's the hint of Ila'den too, somewhere in the blizzard, quieting the storm back to the hushed falling of snow, until Teimyrth has retreated entirely, leaving little more than the chill of goosebumps in his wake. Cue Tae and Kit. Where should Taeski be? "You should be with your family," Kiltara informs Taeski, holding him tight to her as grey eyes find J'en from the shelter of her son's body. "Both of you." Which is to say that she's just implied that J'en is OHANA. OHANA MEANS FAMILY. FAMILY MEANS NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND. And away from the hug she goes, misreading the situation as she takes in J'en's ticking jaw and his body posture, as she looks behind her briefly to see that Ila'den hasn't dropped his gaze from the other 'rider, and as she finally looks back at Taeski. "Don't… take it personal if Teimyrth is telling you to leave. Ila'den hasn't even let Risa or Veliren and Kielric see him yet, and they come every day. I just don't think he wants anybody to see him so help-" And Kiltara is cut off by the growl that Ila'den emits in Teimyrth's stead, rolling her shoulders back as eyes come closed at the silent reprimand and a soft sigh escapes her. "I'll go get some chairs," she amends, opening her eyes only then, to pat Tae's arm. "I have some coats if you boys need them. Xanadu is cold this time of year." AND AWAY SHE GOES. Disappearing behind curtains to wrangle chairs, leaving Ila'den to stare down his nephew and his… nephew… in law? « What is it you want? » Teimyrth, again, though fleeting this time - and no less gentle than the first brush against Tae's and J'en's minds.

Taeski does have the good sense to look..mildly guilty. He /had/, after all, run far away from his family after the loss of his brother. There's a bit of a sigh though for it, nodding somewhat in agreement. "I know that part." The inclusion of J'en however in the term of 'family' earns a faint smile though, a fleeting thing given right back in Jae's direction again. He moves over to settle a hand on the bronzerider's arm though, at least to help instill /some/ calm into his riled weyrmate. There's a small snort however when Kiltara is cut off from her words, sending a quick look at Ila'den for his growliness. "Thank you, but we've gotten clothes already." It's said without looking, instead still focusing on Ila'den even when Kiltara goes to get some chairs for them. "You still have to ask that? Why do the others come? What do /they/ want?"

Oh all the heckles were up and Leketh responds to the greater threat by abandoning his lame attempts at wooing a green who wasn't even glowing in favor of thickening the blanket of protectiveness over his J'en and the boy's mate. There was no answering ire from the younger bronze, as if he understood better of what was going on than his rider did. Warm thick ropes of calm are looped and tossed over Jae, sending out soothing and gentle tendrils that were more affectionate than infused with anything even remotely resembling threatening. It wasn't Teimyrth's intensifying viciousness that gets J'en to back down, but rather Leketh and then Taeski's hand on his arm that brings a soft 'che' sound from the back of the older teen's mouth complete with fleeting snarl before he gaze drops away and down. All that tension doesn't just up and disappear, lingering, but at least he didn't look like he was going to knife poor immobile Ila'den anymore. He grumbles something though under his breath that probably only Taeski can hear before flumping himself back to his leaning spot. It was still warm, so that was something. There is no verbal response as of yet from the Ista born bronzerider, being the kind of guy to merely slide those golden eyes of his to Kiltara with lashes lowered when she refers to him as family but neither confirms nor denies it to be true. Leketh keeps the kevlar of his mind between Teimyrth and the boys, making the sensations less brutal and more scratchy but allowing the words through as it was the only way that Ila'den could communicate at this time. Not that J'en was answering, or even looking at him anymore.

Pity Kiltara left when she did, because she's probably going to have to save Ila'den again - Ila'den who looks unrepentant when Taeski gives him a look for shushing his mother; Ila'den whose lips curl slowly without exposing teeth as J'en's dragon gets the other bronzerider to calm and Taeski asks a question that he probably should have really thought about before he asked. Teimyrth is there again, with flickering images of a bronzerider we all know too well in various states of being: laughing, grasping his hands, shooting D'nyl a look over his shoulder, and suddenly something much more intimate (albeit hazy, like a conjured up fantasy rather than reality) that really, really should not be shared — « Mine says that he is flattered, but does think that you have come for the same reasons that others do. He asks again: What do you want? » It's a gentle stirring this time, of snow being kicked up in calm breezes and the promising scent of a cozy fire burns somewhere in the background - as if these reminders calm Ila'den and subsequently lull the dragon to an almost sleepy calm. But really, Ila'den is just a dick - even if he's likely exuding that particular personality trait in an attempt to get both bronzerider and renegade nephew alike to leave. Really.

Taeski will forever be grateful that Leketh is at least there to be that buffer. He doesn't do well with the battering Tei tends to do on his mind. Regardless of how the dragon might be normally, for a boy relatively unused to all things dragons, it tends to leave him with an unbearable migraine. The fact that there are /images/ there makes him look a little uncomfortable, even. Nope, whatever he may be, the teenager isn't weyrbred. Dragon invasiveness is just not terribly common. His expression, however, slowly flattens into something more neutral. His gaze hardens, focusing down on Ila'den before marching right over to his bedside. "I came here to see what my brother died for. What J'en killed for. What /I/ killed for." He leans close then, fingers pressing down on the bed. His shirt collar is low enough to expose the wound and stitching that crosses his collarbone and chest. At least that's healing. "And I see nothing." The teen moves away then abruptly, whirling around to face J'en with a voice that's near a hiss. "We're leaving. Now."

J'en was behaving appropriately thus far, he had only acted in defense of his weyrmate when there was the vague suggestion of threat, even if he clearly did not want to be in the Infirmary. He'd kept his mouth relatively shut, and he had not shared all the various ways he'd imagined ending Ila'den since Risali let slip certain facts he had not been aware of. Things had happened, many things, that had lead to his leaving Half Moon Bay the way he did. Still, family meant a great deal to the young bronzerider, and when Taeski had asked him to take him to visit his uncle how could he refuse? He was there for moral support, not to have the romanticized and intimate conjuring of R'hyn channeled from Ila'den's head shoved into his brain. The begrudging leisure with which the older teen was chillaxing over there a few few away is replaced almost instantly with one that might be seen in someone who'd just been rather suddenly and forcibly slapped. Golden eyes wide, mouth agape, and then all snapped closed. A rippling shudder makes to through Jae's body, making the very short hair at the back of his neck stick up before he shoves himself off where he'd deposited himself. Oh, that was not happiness at all. "No." he tells Taeski firmly, lacking ice, lacking anger, lacking nothingness. What Ila'den had just done, hurt, visibly. Yet, he shoves all that down back inside where it can't been seen as he makes his way over to the immobile bronzerider and looms over both him and his weyrmate. Leketh, was already making that cushion thicker, just in case. "I know yer hurtin' and I know ya dun want no one to see ya like this…but ya still look better than when I found ya." he says, softly and almost on the boarder of gentle. "Yer like a wounded tunnelsnake, lashin' out in anyway ya can. That's how ya deal, I get it." Couching down he folds his arms over the side of the bed, murmuring something softly to Ila'den only. It's quiet, it's private, and given the youthfulness of his expression its heartfelt, "Love 'im the way he deserves to be loved. Be patient with 'im, and dun give up. He's worth it, I promise ya that. He's worth every second." This done, he shoves himself to his feet and grabs Taeski's hand, interlacing the fingers there of, starting to pull the former renegade away. He pauses though, glancing over one broad shoulder back at the once Weyrleadery type. "Take care of yerself." With that, he's dragging Taeski out of there giving Ila'den exactly what he'd wanted in the first place. Them, gone.

It starts subtly as Taeski shifts closer: it's the shaking of shoulders, as if fear has reigned in so much viciously wild abandon through the haze of fellis-induced addlement to send adrenaline rushing through a body that simply can't handle it; it comes in rippling echoes down his arms, clenching fingers into fists as tremors take his chest, then his legs, bowing the bronzerider's head in a show of arguable submissiveness that's so very out of place in the usually intense and unshakable former Weyrleader. Each word hits Ila'den with the intended force: Vauril is dead. Taeski has killed. J'en has killed. The memories come back in vivid reds that blossom and bleed from Ila'den to Teimyrth, outward: it's the night Ila'den was taken, killing men on his own before being overcome, fighting like hell to get to children through too many renegades, willing Teimyrth seek help before too much red gave way to terrifyingly blissful nothing. But this is Ila'den we are talking about, Ila'den who bends and who breaks, but somehow manages to keep so many fragmented pieces of himself together; Ila'den who has seen too much and lived through horrors and drinks himself into an emotional numb without a physical balm to soothe the writhing anger in a bone-weary soul. « And what is it that you killed for before, Renegade? » The horrors flickered now are clearly Vauril's: torture, dismemberment, and the high of being in control. It's followed by the sudden clarity and projection of three: Kiorel, Katrel, Kiric. « You did not kill for mine. You killed for yours. Leave. » Because this is Ila'den we are talking about, who is not shaking, but who is laughing. He is laughing even when J'en comes into his space despite the fact that there's no sound outside of that painful wheezing - and then it's cut off abruptly. There's humor in that grey eye for the observations of why Ila'den does what he does, and then quiet when the bronzerider leans in to whisper whatever it is that he whispers. And then Ila'den settles back into his pillows with an exhale of pain, as his book is retrieved and that eye trains on it again.

A beat, and then Teimyrth is back for one last hurrah, one last farewell, but this time only for J'en. The blizzard is quiet, there's no snow falling; it's the flickering glare of fresh snow in an endless forest of pine, but the important part is that it's calm. « Mine knows this. Mine asks that you take care of yours. » And it's the flickering image of Taeski, the subtle guilt and concern that Ila'den carries with him always before the bronze retreats, leaving J'en to the quiet or chaos of his own thoughts.

Taeski goes very, very still despite being pulled on by J'en. It's still odd and jarring to have other images forced into his head, despite his own detachment from violence in general. Does it /bother/ him? No. Though seeing what is clearly something from Vauril has the teenager pulling in a breath. His eyes close, tightly trying to shut out things that are not from his /own/ mind, though there's an abrupt look backward at Ila'den for that. There were still certain things that the rider just didn't /get/…and probably never would. "Despite what you think, /uncle/, you don't know me. Hurry and get better, would you? Your pain in the ass dragon hurts my head." A sniff is given, with the teenager trying to shake away the wateryness that's already invading his eyes before he hurries right on out.


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