Still Alive (after bonding)

[sakurayasha]

Serenity was not usually the sort of person who would fall apart simply because she was hurt. She likened her reaction to the events at the sands to a child who has been told that they are getting a puppy for their birthday. All free time waiting for the great day is spent fantasizing about the great things that will happen when that puppy is finally yours.

Then, before you know it, it's your birthday. You are lead into a room full of presents, and everyone is watching. The largest box begins to move, and out bursts a rabid dog. The rabid dog attacks you, then runs off. And Everyone is just standing around watching, nobody moving in to help.

Serenity had time to think about this, neatly wrapping up the events in her mind as she waited on the hot sands for help. Occasionally her thoughts were interrupted by Elahuph, who informed her of every bonding that was taking place, then finally her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of people. Elahuph didn't put up an protest when the human men looked over Her S'reni, she had called for them, and although they were late, they we're supposed to be here.

When K'huna lifted Serenity to her feet she finally got a real idea of the situation going on outside her own mind. 'There's so much blood' she thought, not bothering to try hiding her thoughts from Ela 'This is wrong!'. Elahuph firmly agreed with Hers.

And so they were lead to the infirmary by helpful medics that had refused to enter the sands. Elahuph was given food outside the infirmary cavern, but once she was finished she returned to S'reni's side and refused to leave it. S'reni's clothing was cut away, her wounds cleaned and bound. It was only a flesh wound really, nothing important was severed, but she had lost a huge amount of blood. She'd be staying in the infirmary for quite awhile.

S'reni is currently eating broth, laying in a clean bed in the far corner of the infirmary. Elahuph is asleep in a nest made of S'reni's cut up clothing.

[Kat]

Ri’ley was supposed to go to his new room to sleep. His belongings were going to be brought to his new room, there was going to be a feast, and he was supposed to sleep. Ri’ley really wanted to sleep, and the fact that as the black hatchling ate, he became more tired, only compounded Ri’ley’s fatigue with his simourv’s own feelings. The exhaustion made Ri’ley’s limbs feel heavy, as if his blood was thick like mercury or mud. He had been this tired before; once, only a few year ago, five people had been mauled by a group of koxi outside of Sayaie. Ri’ley and Master Donovan had stayed up two nights, taking short, hour-long breaks at a time, trying to save the people. Only two had survived the third night, and although he had been devastated by the deaths, Ri’ley had almost been relieved, because he gained the chance to sleep. Ri’ley had felt so guilty after he had thought those thoughts, the next day, but they were thoughts and whims of desperation. Ri’ley was almost that tired in the current moment, and a large part of him, one that betrayed everything the man stood for and believed in, wished to go to his room and collapse into clean sheets. Instead, though, Ri’ley turned towards the infirmary in the ground caverns. He knew he was not supposed to disobey the Pheonix or K’huna, but he was not going to leave the injured candidates in the care of the medics without at least ensuring that the candidates were fine and safe.
Are you going to help our siblings?
Dionyph questioned as he padded along side his bonded. The hatchling moved even more tiredly than his rider, almost dragging his body behind him in a shuffled movement.
”Yes, my Dionyph. I know you are tired, but we need to help them. I love you, and I will find you somewhere to sleep.
Ri’ley replied. He draped his hand on Dionyph’s head, as they stalked into the infirmary.

Ri’ley’s first course of action was to head directly to one of the empty beds, which he stripped in a desperate and frenzied manner, throwing all the sheets and blankets onto the floor. He made a tight nest, a loop of sheets and quilts, which appeared rather cozy. Ri’ley finished the space by tossing the pillow in the middle of nest. Without being directly to the space, as he understood his bonded’s intentions, Dionyph wiggled his body into the space, weaseling his form into the nest of fabric, and fixing his muzzle under the edge of the largest quilt. He looked canine in his movements, despite his avian form, as he rolled himself into a tight, ebony ball. Ri’ley paused for a second, as he draped his hand over the creature’s head, aware that he needed to start moving, but unwilling to let Dionyph fall asleep without his human’s presence. Ri’ley felt Dionyph drift to sleep, almost immediately, as the man’s fatigued lifted a noticeable amount. Ri’ley was still tired, still laboriously tired, but he was no longer so tired that he shook. It was a relief, and a welcome one. The man stood, his shoulders hunched, and his body tight, as he turned to a caverns worker who happened to be standing nearby dishing out supplies to the medics.
”I need my medical equipment and a change of clothing. If you go into the candidates barracks, room P, on the clean side, there is a wooden chest under the bed on which a wooden box sits. Bring me the box, if you don’t mind. It has my medical supplies in it, and I need them to be useful, and also, I would love to have a change of clothing. There is some clothing in the chest, just grab whatever. I hope I don’t inconvenience you. I’ll try to do something to make it up to you.”
Ri’ley ordered, although his tone was friendly enough to sound rather kind and needing, as opposed to commanding and cold. The worker nodded his head and moved to perform the task.

Ri’ley could not help anyone, really, without his supplies. He could use the supplies of the Eyrie, and he would, at least their forms of bandages and suturing, but he needed his own blades and needles if he was to do any difficult work. He was not sure they would be necessary, but if they were, Ri’ley wanted to be ready. He had to do something to occupy himself while he waited, though, because if he took the time to settle down and to sit or lay, he would fall asleep. He had to keep busy in order to keep himself awake. Even without Dionyph’s tiredness, Ri’ley was exhausted. One of the girls had already been worked on, a fact which Ri’ley did not appreciate. He did not trust the work of the Eyrie’s medics. He knew he was being a controlling snob, but he trusted his own work, believed in his own work, and he did not necessarily believe that other people could heal at the same level of competency as himself. Ri’ley felt bad about his negligence of Serenity. While he knew that logically, he could not have helped her and Teagan, Farah, and Leannan all at the same time, he felt as if he should have been able to. Ri’ley hated not being able to help everyone. He felt as if he had the responsibility to aid everyone, and the fact that he could not was a sad burden on the man. As he appraised the work, Ri’ley did not say anything. He stood above Serenity’s bed inspecting the detail of the bandaging, before he sighed and shrugged.
”It’s not a terrible job. You’ll heal all right. Did they suture or not? How much blood did you lose?”
Ri’ley scowled at the broth. He thought the girl could use food of more substance, since she needed to recover from her wound, but as he was not the person who treated her initially, he did not critisize.
”You do need to be drinking water. It would be ashame for you to become dehydrated.”
Ri’ley muttered, as he took a few steps away to pour the girl a glass of water from a pitcher nearby. He wanted to help in a more substantial way than to had out glasses of water. Eight years of training should mean he had the skill to help the girls with quite a bit of expertise. Ri’ley’s nose wrinkled as he handed the girl the water, before he directed his attention towards the other girls. He would hopefully be performing some real work on them. After all, he had instructed Leannan to only let him touch her suturing, and he would hold her to that agreement. The moment he helped them on the sands made the girl’s his patents, and he did not abandon patents.

[Kilnarak]

After K'huna's orders had gone out, the medic who had set about cleaning the dried blood and sand away from T'gan's wounds near immediately declared that the new blue-rider was to be moved to the infirmary post-haste. The girl had barely the time to puzzle through what the Winglet-master had told them, before one of the assistants - a broad-shouldered young man - was carefully scooping her up and carrying her toward the infirmary. Both the girl and her simourv had released undignified squawks at the suddenness of it, near in unison.

The trek to the infirmary wasn't a long one, although throughout the entire of it a tired, worried Othokenph plodded along behind - drooping faintly that he didn't seem able to help at all. T'gan was set down gently upon one of the clean, empty beds, and told to sit still while the first medic finished cleaning up her cuts, then moved away to gather the proper materials to close and bind the wounds. In her absence, Othokenph clambered up somewhat awkwardly onto the bed and pressed himself against T'gan's side. The blue was shivering faintly from worry and exhaustion, and gratefully closed his eyes olive-yellow eyes as His set a hand upon his head. He crooned softly, remaining thus, and rather shortly fell asleep in that position, the pale tip of his tail twitching every so often, although otherwise he remained still.

T'gan smiled at the simourv, glad for his presence - she could hardly remember what it was like before, without him. If she really paused to think about it, that may have frightened her, but she didn't and for now it simply felt right. Perhaps it had been worth it, all of the pain and embarrassment, to have found him - of course, she knew her Oth certainly wouldn't agree to that.

The girl only looked up from her blue as she noticed the medic returning to begin stitching her wounds closed. The red's claws had raked across her hips and down a fair distance along her thighs, however at least they hadn't sunk too deep or punctured anything vital. Shortly after the medic had begun to work, however, the woman was distracted by the entry of another winglet - this one uninjured. The worker that Ripley had ordered looked to the medic briefly for her approval, and after a moment the woman nodded to him - while at first concerned the man might get in the way, at the least he sounded like he knew what he was doing, and they were understaffed as it was. A good many of those working today were more used to treating the injuries of the simourv than their riders - few enough had truly expected the hatchlings to attack their would-be bonds, unfamiliar as they were with the newborn behavior of the creatures.

T'gan held still beneath the ministrations of her healer as the woman continued her work, her fingers flexing and relaxing atop Othokenph's skull, absently tracing the shape of the budding horns upon his brow. She watched Ripley rather than her medic - better not to look at the needle and thread passing through her skin - offering him a tight smile and a slight nod by way of greeting, however otherwise remaining silent. She was afraid calling out a hello to the man would wake Oth, and also would likely distract the woman tending her wounds - better to wait until the bit with the curved needle was done, at least, and besides she wasn't sure what to say to the man besides 'thanks.'

[Fox]

L'nan had borne the trip to the infirmary in an icy silence. The poor medic who had insisted on carrying her for the journey was really quite innocent of any wrongdoing; it was simply unfortunate that being carried in that manner brought unpleasant emotions swimming to the forefront. But at least he had been polite about it, and had asked her before helping, as opposed to picking her up like just another feed bucket. And L'nan had tried not to take her anger and frustration out on an innocent party. Even so, she couldn't quite help being somewhat taciturn all the way up, despite the medic's efforts at conversation. Beside them both, Eoreph had trudged wearily, full and sleepy from the exertion of the morning and the food afterwards, and all of L'nan's attention not taken up with feeding her anger was occupied by her simourv. It was a new, unusual feeling, to have that constant presence lingering in the back of her mind, but the young woman found that it was certainly not unwelcome.

Now, sitting with her arms propped delicately on legs that still hurt a bit to move and her back to the headboard, L'nan leaned her head back against the wall and found herself admiring the ceiling. As the adrenaline from Teimoph's attack and, more slowly, the anger started to wear off, the midwife found herself trembling finely. Well, it was to be expected; to say that the events of the morning had been emotionally tiring was an understatement. It was almost too much to be able to take on an empty stomach, but L'nan was certain that if she ate now, she would just end up looking at it again in an hour or so. Taking up most of the bed, Eoreph slept deeply, her instincts taking over as, finally, the fact that she was just newly hatched began to take its toll. The tawny was curled up into a ball in her sleep, with L'nan's blankets and sheets tucked neatly around her. The black tip of her tail rested lightly against her bonded's feet in an effort to stay connected physically even in sleep.

She didn't really blame Teimoph either; the reds that she had seen had all been somewhat violent in tendency. No, not too surprising, even if it wasn't right. Earlier, L'nan had refused a healer's offer to redo the stitching on her legs. One had helped wash the dried blood and sand off, and her right arm was already in a stiff cast to prevent her from stressing the bone. They had even helped to cut the tattered remains of her pants off above the knee, preventing the material from sticking to her wounds, and making the lacerations easier to attend to later on. She had had to explain to the healer (if somewhat iffily) that she would rather wait for the person who had put in the stitches to redo them; it wasn't like L'nan was entirely irrational. She was angry at Ri'ley, for a number of reasons, not least of which was his blithe overlooking of her opinion on the matter. But, she would let no other touch the stitches, no matter how much she itched to do so, if only just to spite him. The midwife was just beginning to calm, the sleeping presence of Eoreph going far in helping with it, when his voice reached her ears and she stiffened. Well. L'nan shut her eyes. See if she would be speaking to him any time soon.

[Cy]

[sakurayasha]

S'reni watched Ri’ley enter the cavern. She noticed that he was somewhat worse for wear, tired and torn, or at least his clothing was torn, and she supposed that, like most men, he didn't even know how to make himself new ones. He didn't look hurt though, and she wasn't certain why he chose this place to make a nest for his black.

Ri'leys way of ordering around the medics amused S'reni. He's such a clueless guy in the kitchens. I suppose everyone has their place. A joyful flush filled her at that idea, as if she had made it up by herself, or maybe she just wasn't thinking sensibly anymore, looks like R'ley is making his way over, and he kinda reminded her of her brother Patric. The coloring was off, but his way of taking charge was similar.

Then suddenly he was examining her, and that was embarrassing. She had wrapping around every part of her chest except her breasts, and in her embarrassment she stumbled over the answers to his questions. "What's suture? They washed me and wrapped me up. I think you should ask them before you try to look under the bandages. I don't know how much blood, I looked at the sands and it looked like a lot, but I think I'll be alright for now, you should look at the other girls" She took the glass of water and drank it, mostly to keep herself from talking too much, he was being very nice to her, and she could tell that his looks of disgust were for the medics and not her.

He walked away, and she felt both relief and regret. next time he came over she would ask if she could take his measurements to make him some new cloths, or maybe she wouldn't, maybe it would be too much to ask about right now, she didn't know. S'reni sighed and put the cup down on the small table next to her bed. She would eat her broth and try to get better, that was the only thing she could do right now.

[Kat]

Surgeons were very particular about other people criticizing their work. At least, Ri’ley had determined that from the ones he had worked with. He, too, was possessive over his patients and his work, as seem in his possessive feelings towards Leannan’s stitching, which was a possessiveness partially related to his need to finish what he had started. Ri’ley was a visitor to the infirmary. He was not in his own domain, but instead he was infringing upon the space of other people, and he did not want to act like an uppity know-it-all who did not understand his place. He was a bit of a know-it-all, he did think that his work was probably better than these medics, that he had had more training and schooling than them, but it was not his place to order them around or criticize their aid. All the uninjured people in the room had one common goal, to ensure that the injured people were safe and mended; they were all their to help, and Ri’ley felt that they all needed to work together in order to achieve that goal. He was not going to anger any of the medics. He was going to help, but he was not going to complain or criticize, no matter how much he wanted to do so.
”Suture, the material used for stitching and mending skin. Usually made from silk or catgut, or some other fibrous material.
Ri’ley rattled off, defining the word with a memorized accuracy which made it sound very much like an analytical definition. The man did not even notice the girl was naked, or rather, he did not process that she was unclothed. His mind was stuck in the mode of doctoring, and he had seem plenty of naked human bodies before. They did not register as unusual or novel anymore. As long as he was treating someone, that person was almost ungendered, and Ri’ley felt no attraction. He then listened to her words and nodded his head as she spoke. He wished she could give him a better understanding of her blood loss, but he understood that that request could be quite difficult. The problem was that the sight of blood, especially one’s own, always created a feeling of great loss, and people could never get a good estimate.
”I don’t need to see under the bandage for now. I’m sure you’re in good hands.”
Ri’ley responded, even though he desperately wanted to look. The only outward sign of his desire was a twitch of his right hand, a small spasm of his fingers and knuckles, which he ignored and restrained. Ri’ley then nodded in approval at the girl’s drinking, before he was distracted by a tap on his shoulder by the worker who retrieved his things.

Ri’ley ran his fingers over the wooden box, before he placed it on a counter next to the bed which he had striped for Dionyph, who lay only a few feet away. Ri’ley had already basically claimed the bed as his work space, or at least somewhere he could house his things. Ri’ley then stared at the clothes which had been presented to him. He knew that he had asked for them and that he needed them, but now that they were placed in front of him, he had no idea what to do with them. It was not as if he could strip to his underwear in front of a group of medics and female peers. He appeared almost comical, with the shirt and pants before him, attached to his outstretched arm, with his head tilted to stare at it quizzically. Ri’ley threw the pants onto the bed, because he was unable to figure out how to change his pants without exposing himself. Ri’ley slipped on his shirt, one arm at a time, so that at least his chest would be covered. He knew that he was ruining the white shirt, as the blood which coated his body would transfer to the fabric, but he did not care. It was more appropriate to cover himself than to worry about his wardrobe. New clothing could be purchased. Ri’ley then turned to the female medic, who seemed to be in charge. He should have said something to her earlier, but he was quite scattered in his current state.
”I’ve been apprenticed to a surgeon for awhile. I know I can help you, but if I am causing any trouble, I can leave.”
The woman nodded to him to show that he was understood, before she went to go stitch up Teagan’s wound, which was one of the biggest, at least by girth of the injuries. He wanted to fix Teagan, but he did not move to stop the woman, who had authority. Instead, Ri’ley met Teagan’s gaze for a second, during which he flashed her a large, comforting smile. The smile was fairly forced, and it looked tired and strained, but it was an attempt to demonstrate Ri’ley’s support to the girl without having to speak to her. Ri’ley was not always the best communicator, especially when he talked to patients. He was working on his bedside manner, but it was still very stiff.

Ri’ley then turned his attention to Leannan, if he did so slowly and with hesitance. He could practically feel her anger at him as a tension in the room, thick and heavy, and he was not sure he was emotionally in control enough to deal with another scolding or outburst. Ri’ley had promised, both to Leannan and to himself, that he would fix her legs, however, and he was going to keep his promise. He just hoped she would save her tongue-lashing for when he completed stitching and bandaging her wound. If she was not acting so cold, so chilly towards him, so obviously infuriated, he would have easily been able to forgive her actions, but her manner towards him made Ri’ley equally angry and cold. As he approached her, Ri’ley set his jaw and glared at her, his brows in a tight, infuriated line, and his lips a thin smear across his face. He did not say anything at first, because Ri’ley was afraid if he talked, he would scold or yell at Leannan, and instead, his dark eyes scanned over her legs as if he studied them. He was pleased that the medics had taken the time to clean the injury. Ri’ley reached for a needle, finding a clean one next to Leannan’s bed, and deciding that it was quite useable. Ri’ley threaded it with his own undyed silk, the thread an odd, ugly, gray color, and then he began to stitch. Although his body was tight and aggressive, aggravated by Leannan, his touch was surprisingly soft. It was strange, how limber and gentle his fingers were, in contrast to his large hands. RI’ley realized, half-way through the stitches, that he probably should have warned Leannan about the pain, but he had been a bit too angry to remember to do so. She was lucky that he had the ability to separate his emotions from his fingertips, since he now stitched Leannan with the upmost care. When he finished, Ri’ley decided that he had to say something to the girl, so he turned his stony gaze to her.
I’m glad they cleaned your injuries so efficiently. That’s the worst part.”
Ri’ley announced, his tone devoid of emotion completely—flat and tired. He grabbed a salve which was also next to Leannan’s bed, which he carefully smeared over the girl’s slashed calves. Once the salve was smothered over her gashes, Ri’ley began to wrap a gauze over the injuries, until he had adequately bandaged her wounds. Then, His gaze flicked to her splint. He glared at it angrily and bitterly, as if he was taking out his anger at Leannan on her cast.
”How is your splint?”
He snapped, before he cast his gaze, out of spite, away from Leannan, so that it settled on Amira, solely because she was in his line of sight.

Amira—he had not remembered the girl being injured. He remembered asking her to help with Teagan. He remembered Amira helping Teagan, but he did not remember Amira being battered herself. She seemed to be covered in shallow surface lacerations, only a problem because there were so many. Ri’ley doubted the Amira would even need stitches. She was sitting by herself, however, and so he moved towards her, grabbing the salve he used on Leannan as he left her bedside. Ri’ley glanced around for a second, before his eyes settled on a bowl of water and a cloth. He nodded at the bowl, appearing rather silly as he did so, before he sat next to Amira. He did not remember her bonding. He did not remember who she had bonded to, and to confuse him more, Ri’ley did not see a simourv hatchling near the girl. It took Ri’ley a few seconds to realize that she had not bonded. At first, he was horrified. Although he had lived twenty-three years unattached, and only a few hours with Dionyph, Ri’ley could not longer imagine a lift devoid of Dionyph. Dionyph filled a pit in his body that he had not know he had possessed. Dionyph had become his life, and Ri’ley could not live without the hatchling. Amira must be so empty, so sad, and so broken, Ri’ley mused, as he began to wet the towel he held. The poor girl could not even fathom what she missed. Ri’ley stated none of this information, but his expression moved from stiff frustration to a kind of terrible sadness and pity. Ri’ley began to clean the girl’s cuts, starting with the exposed ones on her arms, so that he could work as long as possible without removing her clothing. He shot her a small, sad smile, as he continued to work

[Cy]

[/b] She eventually inquired, keeping her voice soft and courteous, ignoring the small croak that broke her sentence in two and betrayed the pain that she'd pushed away into the tightness of her throat.[/ul][/size]

[Fox]

L'nan watched Ripley silently out of the corner of one slitted eye as he made his rounds amongst the other injured girls, still with the residual blood and gore from the hatching smeared across him. He looked tired, weary, and as if he was being torn in too many directions at once. Subtly, she observed him as he spoke briefly to Serenity, then Teagan. Yes, it was plain that he was stretching himself too far as many good surgeons tended to do; placing the injured before food and rest and the needs of their own bodies. Under other circumstances, Lea would have felt sorry for Ripley, and perhaps tried to cheer him up a bit, no matter how little good that might have done. Instead, looking at him for too long made the more unpleasant memories of the hatching come flooding back, along with anger, humiliation, and a good dash of sore pride. The young woman fisted her good hand in the sheets beside her thigh, lips tightening into a narrow, nearly invisible line as Ripley turned towards her, the cold glare in his dark eyes setting a spark to the dry wood of her own temper.

Almost against the part of her that wished to remain cool and calm and infuriatingly silent, Lea opened her eyes fully and allowed herself to raise a cool eyebrow as Ripley approached. She was silent as he picked up a needle and didn't even hiss when he began to stitch, the curved metal passing through her flesh time and time again. Not a word had been said and, if it was possible, Lea's temper hiked itself up a few notches at the silence. When, eventually, he spoke, a mocking, unpleasant smile slid onto her face. "And so the statue speaks!" Lea said theatrically, throwing up her hands in feigned surprise. As she lowered them, a glint of angry challenge lit in her own brown eyes. "Has he perhaps- heavens forfend!- finally remembered that his patients are not simply bags of flesh? We must celebrate!" Her voice was low enough that the words would not carry far; it would be difficult to hear them even from the next bed, but the lowered volume did not at all detract from the sheer amount of emotion crammed into her voice. Snide mockery, frustration, anger, the barest hints of humiliation; she wasn't pulling the punches. "Yes, they cleaned my injuries and set my arm. Such wonderful people, these Eyrie medics are. So polite and thoughtful. Perhaps if you stick around a bit you might learn a thing or two." Then, Lea pulled the sweetest, most innocently nasty face she could make, and cast her eyes away, her attitude plainly having dismissed Ripley from notice.

Out of sight, her good hand twisted the sheets mercilessly in a vice grip that bespoke how much her pride stung. Surprisingly, maintaining the anger wasn't as easy as it used to be; Lea could hold grudges for days, weeks, maybe even months and she knew it, but this... This time, perhaps, it didn't help that she had liked Ripley, before he had pulled that stupid stunt on the sands. She knew he had been trying to help; Eoreph had said as much, voicing what her own conscience was telling her. But pride and stubbornness would not let her leave it. It didn't help either that she was annoyed at his bedside manner, and sheer disregard for a patient's opinion. Lea knew beyond a doubt that she had been- no, was a difficult patient. But that didn't mean he could be so flippant of professional ethics. What a patient didn't want you to do, you didn't do. It was as simple as that, and Lea just couldn't understand why Ripley seemed to find that such an incomprehensible idea.

It was therefore a rather perplexed, conflicted gaze that fell upon Amira, who had slunk into the infirmary so quietly that L'nan had truly not noticed her come in. She hardly paid any attention as Ripley moved away to treat the other girl's wounds, but almost immediately pity and sadness replaced the anger that Lea was nursing so carefully. It slid into dormancy, quelled by the emergence of this girl, who had been left standing and alone at the sands, as evidenced by her dejectedness and lack of a companion. Lea had not known the girl well before this, but her heart went out to her nonetheless. "Oh, Amira." She said softly to herself, unable to stop the horror and pity from filtering into her intent gaze.

[Kat]

Ri’ley liked silence when he worked. It was a flaw. He should talk his patients through his work, tell them what he planned to do, and then comfort them as he stitched, but Ri’ley was not the kind of person who could chat. His capacity for small talk was extremely limited. He was a silent person. He was a quiet person, and right now, he was so tired that his mind clouded over with fog and haze. Thinking was difficult, and so talking was difficult and distracting. And if he spoke to Leannan, Ri’ley would snap. He was still frustrated by her. He was still so confused and angry with her, and speaking might make his difficult temper flare. He listened to L’nan’s words, and they stunk, poked at his insecurities and shortcomings which presented her snappiness which to Ri’ley had no fair cause. When he finished stitching her, he turned his head so that he could view her. She was angry that he had not talked with her before he had acted. He was not sure how he could express to her that he did what he thought was the most appropriate. He had done what he needed to do. He had done what he needed to do in order to maximize the number of people he could help. Ri’ley’s mouth tightened as he tensed his jaw. He finished stitching without looking at L’nan. He did not want to see her expression of displeasure or snark. He needed to keep himself calm. He was glad to hear her speak positively of the brace. He was glad to know that the medics did a good job. It was oddly comforting to the man, who still cared about Leannan and her prognosis. He should not care; not with the way she was treating him. Cold, brown slits of eyes crawled up L’nan’s body, starting at the brace and inching towards the girl’s face. The scan was not a lecherous or sexual look, but rather a sort of sheepish, apologetic, but frigid and cold, plod towards her face. The glance was both angry and submissive. It was clear Ri’ley was angry, but also that L’nan’s words possessed a definite and striking sting.
”I did what I did so that I could help as many people as possible. You may be angry with me, but I feel like I acted in the way that I needed to act in order to maximize the number of people I helped.”
Ri’ley growled lowly, his voice a tight, annunciated whisper. He spoke almost formally, because if he attempted to reply in a more personal manner, he was afraid that he would yell.

And so, Ri’ley focused all of his attention on tending to Amira. The wounds were superficial, and they were easily tended. With the medics bustling around Serenity, Teagan, and Farah, though, Ri’ley thought that at least he could treat Amira and send her off, without distracting any of the workers. The infirmary was rather understaffed; Ri’ley hated to even contemplate the amount of work the people would have to perform after a Koxi attack. He spent a second, while he dipped his large fingers into the cream he was administering across Amira’s skin, to contemplate the youth of the establishment. Everything in the Eyrie was really pretty understaffed. Even the riders were over exerted. The promise of twenty-four more bodies must be incredible for them. They just needed to grow up still uninjured. Ri’ley’s gaze reached Amira’s in time to catch the girl’s smile. He smiled back at her, his face twisting into a genuinely pleasant grin. He knew it had to be hard for her to smile. He could not imagine not bonding. He could not even imagine his life without Dionyph, who he had been with for only a few hours. When she spoke, however, Ri’ley paused. Her pain was so evident in her voice, and it was painful for Ri’ley to watch. He suddenly imagined Amira as his little sister, the girl he loved more than anything, who he hated to see or hear in pain. If he was comforting Amaryllis, he would have wrapped the girl in his arms and held her. He would have stroked her hair and spoke gentle platitudes to her until he felt he had tried to quell her pain. Ri’ley wanted to hug Amira. He wanted to make her feel better. He was a healer, which meant that Ri’ley did not handle the pain of other people well. He could treat people affectively. He could ensure that they were taken care of the best that he could take care of them, and then if they still hurt, he knew he had made a difference, tried to help, but in this situation, he could do nothing for Amira’s emotional turmoil. It made his heart hurt, in the emotional, void-like way that helpessess made him feel. Hugging Amira, that would have been inappropriate, so instead he turned towards Teagan, his gaze scanning the new blue rider over in her bed.
”She’ll be fine. You did a fine job making sure she did not bleed out. I think she will recover well.”
Ri’ley replied as he began to wrap some of Amira’s arm lacerations with gauze.

The man paused, trying to collect himself so that his voice did not shake with pity.
”I have a sister about your age.”
Ri’ley muttered even though he had no idea why he admitted that fact at that moment. For some reason, the need to comfort Amira made Ri’ley feel like a brother again, feel like he had some sort of nurturing aspect to his person, which was usually only reserved for Amaryllis. He knew the comment was inappropriate, so Ri’ley shrugged, trying to remove himself from the statement as he continued to tend to Amira.
”You managed to avoid any major injury.”
Ri’ley made sure he did not say that the girl was “fortunate or lucky;” she was not.
”So you’ll just need some gauze and ointment, and then you can leave.”
Ri’ley was positive that Amira would want to leave. He would not want to be around all these simourvs and winglets if he had not bonded. His eyes scanned her body, checking for more wounds. There were some under her shirt, which was unfortunate solely because she might have to expose herself to the infirmary.
”You may have to remove your shirt. I can go get one of the female medics.”
Ri’ley instinctively turned his gaze towards the women he talked about, and thus away from Amira. His gaze returned to the girl, though, and Ri’ley tried to appear as comforting and kind as he could. He imagined that she needed support.

((Cy, I wasn't sure where Amira's wounds were, so I'm sorry if I misunderstood. And Sakura, I'm sorry I skipped you; I wanted to keep the momentum on the thread alive. And everyone, I'm sorry this post is such a mess.))[/size]

[Kilnarak]

The medic was fairly quick and efficient in closing and wrapping T'gan's wounded legs. She did not linger much after the work had been done, staying beside the girl only long enough to inform her that she should remain abed at least for the remainder of the day, better if she remained so longer than that, but of course such young people couldn't be expected to hold still for too long; food would be brought later, both for T'gan and her newfound charge, and if anything else was needed she should ask one of the assistant medics - they would certainly be buzzing about the infirmary for some time yet. The woman's tone was curt, not exactly impolite, but she sounded as though her mind was elsewhere. After she had finished speaking, she near immediately turned about to see to the other injured - checking up on the state of their injuries, and nodding approval of Ri'ley's work upon them.

Left alone, T'gan pulled a blanket up over her freshly bandaged legs - over Othokenph's twitching tail as well. The little blue shifted as the light weight of the blanket fell over him, and blearily opened his eyes with a little squawk to squint back at the new-thing draped over his hindquarters. What is it? he warbled softly,craning his head around to nose and nibble lightly at the blanket, sleepy but curious. After a few moments he managed to poke his beak under the blanket, and rather abruptly sneezed, drawing back and peering up at His.

T'gan smiled broadly at her Oth, the expression holding boundless adoration for the little creature, and she laughed softly. "It's just a blanket, Oth. You cover yourself with them ta keep warm," she reached over to scratch between the blue's ears, her eyes only for him. She had seen Amira come in, while the healer had been sewing up her legs, but she wasn't sure how she should react to the girl. She had come to think of her as a friend, but the other girl's actions earlier in leaving her left her confused. Of course, now that she saw the girl again, without a simourv companion beside her, she felt sorry for her. She wasn't sure what she should say, so she kept quiet, she kept her attention focused on Othokenph.

Oh. You're cold, Mine? I can keep you warm! Othokenph chirped, snuggling up against His' side and nuzzling his face under her arm. He sniffled again and sneezed beneath this new covering. It smells strange here! T'gan frowned slightly as the little creature, worried that he may have caught a cold - but he didn't seem sick? "Maybe you smell th' medicine? That lady put somethin' on my legs ta make them heal faster, you think that's it Oth?"

[sakurayasha]

S'reni drained her bowl of broth and cup of water while watching the goings on around her. The infirmary was becoming more busy by the moment, and crowded, with all the hurt winglets bringing their hatchlings along with them. If they were large dogs this sort of thing would never be allowed, but S'reni supposed that bonded were different. She tried to wrap her mind around these differences as the pain in her shoulders steadily gained in intensity.

Obviously she did not want to be separated from Elahuph for one moment longer then absolute necessity demanded, but why? Because she felt safer? Ela was asleep and couldn't protect her from mean people or rampaging reds. The ball that was Ela in the back of S'renis mind made it almost silly to think physical closeness was what mattered in their relationship. They could move all the sleeping Simourv to another cavern and it wouldn't do anything to weaken the bonding. Why keep them here? Why let them sleep on their wounded winglets? Doesn't it hamper the work of the medics?

S'reni didn't know the answers. She could have asked a medic her questions, but she was in the farthest corner of the cavern and couldn't find the energy to call one over. The pain was making her irritable and she needed pee badly. There was no help for it, she needed to get herself out of bed and find the nearest privy.

Careful to keep the sheet wrapped around herself, S'reni slowly rolled out of bed, gently putting bare feet on cold stone floor. She walked in a half crouch a few feet away from her bed, then tried to stand straight and the world spun around and the air gave her no breath. Her head felt as though a wind could pass through it as her legs buckled and she fell, down down down into the nothingness.

[cyrus]

Cyrus knocks on the door very carefully with his slender knuckles. He seems very quiet and serious, as he often is. He is very cautious and quiet, and worried that he might be upsetting something. He stares passed the door, as if to the other room. In his other hand he holds a little container of food for some of the injured girls. It does not take long upon glancing at him to realize that the boy is nervous.

He smooths the shortcropped hair back over his ear nervously, almost enough to call out to his Simorov, who lays sleeping in his chambers, watching over his things, his little belly fully. He sweats a little, as the Doctor who often lurked around these parts had a way of making him nervous. That towering stature, and his strangely dominant manner of speaking and body language gave him discomfort somewhere in his chest. He swallowed slowly, his throat suddenly dry.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" He knocked again, and looked about, his normally smooth voice cracked with it's awkwardness. He rubs his skinny hands together, and looks very worried, before putting them in his pockets. He seems to be avoiding further anger at him by keeping his sword in the dormitories...Surely there would be other times.

[Cy]

[/b] She stated with a small nod, eyes down once more on his work as he began to wrap up her arm. She’d hardly done a thing for her friend before she’d wandered off in the effort to find help. She’d not even come back for her after she’d been run over by that blue, but all of the others that had come to Teagan’s aid had bonded so swiftly, one after the other, that her assistance had clearly no longer been needed. And so it seemed even more likely, as the only one of them standing alone in the end, that she’d not done nearly enough to be proven worthy.

Her blue eyes darted back up to the man’s face as he spoke, voice quiet and it lacked the cool reserve that he’d been speaking with so far. It was humanizing, really. He was no longer just a doctor with nice hands or the winglet of a great sized black, but now he was an older brother. Her lips quirked prettily into a genuine smile this time, albeit one that was considerably faint. Ri’ley shrugged and spoke of things more related to the issue at hand, and she could see him withdrawing into the prim shell of a medical man, but her mind was still caught on the glimpse she’d been given of the man he was outside of the infirmary. ”I have a brother about your age.” She answered instead, ignoring his comment on how she’d avoided major injury to briefly return them to what she perceived to be more interesting.

She offered a slight nod, relieved at how quickly this visit would go. She could get out of this place, get to her room and then make the attempt to stay holed up until the end of eternity perhaps. Maybe Ts’kal would take pity on her and allow her to do this. Doubtful, but it never hurt to try. At least, it couldn’t hurt any more than this last try had. There was the slight thrill managing to barely spark as his eyes ran over her, though she knew it to be entirely detached as he looked for more injuries that would need tending, and her brows shot up with the revelation that she’d need to remove her shirt. Looking down, she took in the tears of her blouse and the blood that stained the fabrics, gashes arching along the breadth of her chest. As she took note of them, she also noticed the way they stung when she breathed, a sensation that had been able to drown itself out from her conscious as it lay buried underneath so many other feelings, both of the emotional and physical variety.

Before she could say anything, a ruckus snagged her attention, snapping her eyes over to the source of it, medics rushing to the aid of a girl that had collapsed to the ground. No sooner had she taken this in then she was looking elsewhere, taking in the rest of the patients that stocked the infirmary, near all of them harboring injuries considerably more severe than her own. She returned her gaze to Ri’ley. ”That’s alright, I’ll find one myself. You go help the rest.” She urged, her voice low and sweet as she nodded with her encouragement. She didn’t want to steal any more of his time, though she wouldn’t have minded to keep him a bit longer, but her and the minor injuries she toted weren’t worth too much.[/ul][/size]

[Fox]

Lea fought hard against the immediate urge to curl her lip, instead settling for clamping her teeth down on the inside of her cheek almost hard enough to break the skin. Even then, the brown eyes that she turned on Ri'ley were no longer frigid, but downright blazing, and if looks could kill he would have already been roasted well done. Furious would be as apt a word as any to describe her feeling right then, and L'nan actually physically jerked forward in the aborted wish to slap that infuriatingly cold mask off his face. He was making excuses. Flimsy, meaningless words that didn't begin to excuse his actions. What good was it to heal a physical wound when you made the patient feel absolutely helpless in the process? Why did he wish to hide every expression of feeling that might lead a patient to see him as anything more than a faceless man with a scalpel or suturing needle? If Lea hadn't met and conversed with Ri'ley in the Gardens in that calm interval before the Hatching; so long ago now, she would almost have believed that he was as cold, unfeeling a man as he projected himself to be. She could not begin to express how horrified she was at this strange about-face. Not good with people? Bullshit. He wasn't even trying. As Ri'ley's eyes made the slow, reluctant ascent to settle on her face, L'nan couldn't disguise the disappointment that mingled with the anger. Her lips were tight, he gaze flat, and even her voice, when she spoke, was strangled as if she suddenly could no longer stomach speaking about this. And she couldn't. She was just so very tired.

"You're wrong. Competence only carries you so far, Ripley." For a moment, there were no masks, no false cheerfulness to hide behind. Lea's anger had drained away with the remainder of her energy; faster than she would have thought. It left her with merely the shadow of unspeakable bitterness to cloud her eyes unchecked, before she shut them, shaking her head in a last dismissal. Nothing was yet forgiven, and would not be forgotten. She was emotionally exhausted, from going through the whole spectrum of emotions; anxiety, fear, joy, anger. She couldn't deal with this. A dull throb was beginning in her head, and the darkness that existed behind her eyelids was the only thing that soothed it. Where Ri'ley's flaw lay in his penchant for silence when he worked, Lea's lay in an inability to let people see her emotional turmoil. She would much rather suffer and agonise over her problems in silence than let others see them. For her, being weak was not an option, and letting people see her sadness or her pain was definitely a weakness in her proud heart of hearts. And so, she pulled away, divorcing herself from the emotional turmoil in a way that made Eoreph, calmly sleeping though she was, twitch in her slumber, her contented, baby-ish dreams of undefined colour and shape interrupted by the black cloud of L'nan's rejected feelings.

Silently, the young woman shifted herself carefully into a position on her side, curling over into an almost fetal ball. She didn't want to look at annoying blackriders or at the blank, sterile infirmary walls. She just wanted to rest and wake up again when all of this was far behind her. It was a childish wish, to be sure, but just this once Lea indulged in it, her face even in an attempt to sleep unable to escape the tension that tightened her mouth and pulled her eyebrows into a faint frown. Sleep was just beyond her grasp, and Lea was stretching for it with eager fingers when a loud commotion-- pounding feet and panicked voices-- made her blink back into alertness. Immediately registering something wrong, the young woman levered herself up on one elbow in time to see medics converge on what looked vaguely like the crumpled form of-- Serenity! Forgetting for a moment the stitches that had just gone into her legs, Lea lunged into a sitting position only to make a small, unwitting cry of pain at the burst of pain that shot through her body at the sudden movement. Immediately, Eoreph was awake and scrambling, as she turned to her bonded with a worried call of Mine?[/color] But L'nan was distracted again by the horrible reminder that she couldn't do anything despite how much her instincts screamed at her to get to the fallen winglet's side. [/size]