Self-Medication [Open!]

Talian chewed on his index finger and sorted through the many bundles of dried herbs with his free hand, trying to find exactly the one he wanted. Someone had implemented an awfully strange storage system. Apparently he was supposed to differentiate what each bag held based on a series of knots tied in an extra loop attached to the bag. It made sense on a surface level, but it smacked of someone else’s personal organization system. He preferred his own, but this was something he could work with.

He opened yet another bag and made note to commandeer some herbs for his own use in the future. Then he could return to his preferred organization and not have to dig through someone else’s.  He figured it out quickly enough and eventually found the one he wanted, though he gave it a quick sniff to confirm. Oh yes, this was correct!

He reached to a nearby table and picked up a large mug of klah. It was still hot, though not as hot as he would have liked, and full to the brim. He took a scalpel, set aside for this very purpose, and started to mince the sprig up into a fine powder. He removed the stem, sniffed it approvingly, and proceeded to mix the powder into his klah.

This ought to work. There was a slight problem, though…the remedy in question was notoriously effective at curing depression, but also notoriously unpredictable for first time users. Using it was a calculated risk. Talian decided to settle on just half a sprig instead of a full one, since he was a little on the thin side and had lost some weight since arriving at Katila.

That was safe, right?

Fifteen minutes later, Talian was in the dining caverns, shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as fast as he could. He already knew he’d miscalculated the dosage – it would have been hard not to, but shard it, did he feel amazing!

This is awful he thought lackadaisically as he looked around the room. He couldn’t quite hold his fingers still. It looks like I’m having a particularly strong reaction, in spite of halfing the dosage… he thought. But by shards…it was lovely!

Shards! His hand wouldn’t hold still! Twitch, twitch, twitch…

Food! At long last!

A naturally early riser, Kerrin ignored the various sullen, sleep-deprived looks tossed his way as he traipsed his way from the kitchens to the dining hall, humming to himself a bright but completely tuneless melody as went. He had already completed his morning chores - a rare feat indeed, but his favorite spiced sweetrolls were on the menu that morning and that had been extra incentive to be among the first weyrbrats on his way to the dining hall. The little ones with their easily-accomplished morning tasks were downright nefarious when it came to sneaking into the kitchens and snatching all of the choicest goodies from right beneath the noses of cooks and diligently slaving (or slacking, as the case often was) teenagers alike.

And so it had been with record speed that he had swept the floors, wiped down the tables, set the first pots of water to boiling on the hearths, and helped stack the dishes until the lady in charge that morning had finally deemed him well-worked enough to be excused to eat his own breakfast. He wasn't the first person or even the first weyrbrat there by a long shot, but he had accomplished exactly what he'd come for, for on a plate set aside just for himself sat the biggest, fluffiest, stickiest sweetroll to come out of the ovens that morning - a plate he now held proudly, for he was certain that there must be more than one pair of envious eyes following his every movement as he stacked beside that glorious treat the various other trimmings that would make it a complete breakfast. But really, the meat was just an accompaniment at this point. This roll was amazing.

"All right, looks good!" Kerrin announced to no one in particular, once he'd arranged a breakfast he was satisfied with. He sat himself at the table with great purpose, and was just in the process of reaching over to pour himself a glass of juice when he noticed an unfamiliar young man across from him eating with more gusto than the teen thought entirely necessary in populations that were not starving. And Katilans had not been starving in a long, long time.

"Um. There's always plenty to go around, you know," Kerrin ventured cautiously to the stranger, peering at him from over the rim of his glass with one brow raised as he followed his statement with a long drink of his freshly procured juice. Even after a better look, the boy didn't quite recognize him, and Kerrin had good reason to believe he knew just about everyone at Katila Weyr... especially anyone he could guess to be reasonably close to his age. Was this a new Stolen candidate, perhaps?

Lymselia worked on the peeled the tubers. She'd taken on a bit of extra kitchen work, to give herself something else to do. Also she wanted to try out a few recipes. And a few moments of work she'd had her answer. The small layered potatoa dish with  with goat and herdbeast cheeses with herbs. The delicious scent made her mouth water.

Bringing out the small 'pie' to the table Lymsleia noticed Talian and another face she wasn't quite sure of. She noticed Tal's quiet but mad shoveling of food, and she nearly blundered into Kerrin with her hot ceramic dish. "Whoa!" she moved with a light step to set the hot container down on the table. "Hot!" she warned with a sharp jab of her voice. That same sort of tone she'd used when healing. "Sorry about that." she stares at Talian with shock. "Tal... what in the name of the Dawnsisters?" the twitching had had her attention and she scooted the hot container over to let it solidify a bit more.

She glanced at Kerrin and nodded her head. "Hello." she says quietly. She simply observed Talian trying to take him all in. The furious food shoveling being an anomaly in a young man who she was sure ... wasn't happen. "Talian... you're gonna get indigestion if you keep shoveling food away that quickly."

Talian's plate was half-cleaned by the time Karrin's words registered. The healer paused and looked up, his quizzical expression quickly flashing into a warm smile. He really did have a nice smile, though his distinct lack of laugh lines and the crispness of it betrayed that he never really used it. "Ah, yes. I know. But, if I eat quickly, I can get back to the hall quicker and get to work setting an office up for myself. I really need one," he explained in a single breath.

He caught himself and paused, lifting one thin finger and pointing almost accusingly at the air in front of him. His brows furrowed in a troubled manner, but he held this pose for only a second before shrugging it away. I'm under the effects of stimulants! he reminded himself cheerfully. Why not elaborate?!

"There are plenty of empty rooms in the hall still, and having my own office would really help me with organization," he chimed on. He paused and gave Kerrin a half-perceptive, half-wild look and extended one hand. "I'm Talian, by the way. And you are...?"

Mid-sentence, his eyes shifted to Lymsleia. He remembered this girl, the one who'd spoken kindly to him in the gather square that day. They'd gotten off to a bad start and he wasn't sure he agreed with her thought processes, but she was refreshingly idealistic and easy to get along with. He beamed. "Hello, Lym. I was allowed to call you Lym, right?"

He realized suddenly that his heart was racing. He frowned, even less able to hide his emotions than usual. He placed his hand on his neck to feel his pulse.

For once, even Kerrin was blown away by the force of this new acquaintence's personality. It was pretty rare that he met someone who wouldn't allow him a word in edgewise - that was usually his own job description, as far as friendships went - and if this Talian was indeed a new Candidate, then the teenaged weyrbrat had already decided that he liked him, regardless of the fact that he was henceforth technically competition. So many of the other Stolens spent their time either moping about or else acting impulsively and indiscriminately nasty to weyrfolk, and in either case they were neither talkative nor any fun to be around. This guy, though! He seemed interesting.

And so Kerrin answered the healer's smile with a bright grin of his own, taking the offered hand in a warm and welcoming shake. He wasn't exactly sure what hall or what kind of office the guy was going on and on about, but he seemed excited enough about it that it was almost certainly a good idea. If Talian's actions could be considered a little eccentric, well, the teen didn't pay that much notice - after all, he was pretty eccentric himself. "I'm Kerrin," the boy offered cheerfully, though he was never quite sure how to introduce himself beyond his name. Unlike the other weyrbrats, it was not readily apparent from his age that he was more or less a Katilan native... but his deep, golden tan and the ruddy, sun-bleached red of his hair were enough of a hint to the very observant.

Just as Kerrin was puzzling over what other information about himself to provide his new friend (for he had already decided that's exactly what Talian was!), Lymsleia swept through and nearly barrelled right into him with a piping hot dish and a sharply barked warning that came seconds too late to be helpful. "Lymsleia!" the boy nearly shrieked in protest, releasing Talian's hand in order to dodge the dangerous casserole as it made its way to the table, and answering her quiet greeting with an indignant frown and an equally indignant, "I was standing th--wait."

Kerrin paused a moment, tilting his head and glancing between the newly arrived healer and the twitchy man at the table with the intention of asking the girl if she knew him from somewhere - that is, until he noticed Talian checking his pulse. Not that Kerrin knew that was what Talian was doing, because even though he did have some vague knowledge of first-aid procedures from his classes, he just wasn't making the connection here at the breakfast table with someone who looked, for all appearances, completely fine. The boy did know that it was a strange thing to do, however, and that was enough to finally give him reason to suspect that not all was right with the man across from him. "What's wrong with your neck?"

For once Par'a was out of her hut in a relatively calm state. Grith was nowhere to be seen and Par'a felt well rested. Despite her early rising and intentions to groom herself, she had already caught the scent of food and abandoned her plans. Eyes half closed and hair frizzy to a tee, Par'a was walking with her nose held high and forward towards the dining hall. She entered just as Lymsleia was walking past with her potato bake, the smell captivating her completely. Taking note of where she was headed, Par'a quickly darted over to the serving tables and snatched up a plate, heaping it high with spiced sausages and grabbing a jug of iced klah.

Arriving at the slowly-populating table, Par'a sat directly in front of the ceramic dish and set her plate down. Without asking she dug into the dish, taking a large serving for herself. Taking a mouthful she let out a sigh, finally turning to the others she had joined.

"A perfect complement for these spicy sausages! Did you make this?" Par'a grinned excitedly as she continued to shove more of the meal into her mouth, delight scribbled across her entire face. A few mouthfuls later she paused, realising she didn't clearly recognise Lymsleia and had completely forgotten who Talian was. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. Par'a's the name! Aaand… I'm no good with faces, what's your name again?"

Before they had the chance to reply she had shovelled several more mouthfuls of food into her cavern of a mouth, giggling at the sheer deliciousness of it. Pausing, a piece of sausage halfway to her mouth, Par'a sat still and listened for a moment. In the silence that proceeded she turned to Kerrin, tilting her head.

"By the way, you haven't seen Grith this morning have you? I haven't heard from her this morning." Par'a continued to wolf her food down, her eyes flicking back and forth amongst her companions. As Talian's shaky hand reached to his neck she frowned, the way he held his hand meant he was checking something. Perhaps it was sore or he was checking his pulse? "You're not sick are you? I don't do sick." She paused, reflecting on what she'd said. "I couldn't heal a wherry if I tried." She elaborated, nodding with satisfaction and resuming her meal.

As Lymsleia broke into her own dish of food she startled a bit as she watched Talian check his pulse. "Tal?" the question was concerned and gentle in her tone. "What's wrong?" she  quirked an eyebrow, a healer did not check his own pulse for nothing!

She started to reach towards him but the warm eating utensil in her hand remind her that she had a rathe hot dish of food. Food or help? Food or help? Lymlseia took only a moment to decide putting side her own hunger for a fellow Healer's well being- well sort. She took a few more mouthfuls, chewed and swallowed. "And yes, you're completely allowed to call me Lym." she said in a slightly more jovial tone. She'd not seem him this amped up--ever. A Beaming exciting Talian, was something completely forun to her.

Kerrin was given a polite bow of her head. "Sorry." she said quickly. She inhaled and then reached to touch Talian's wrist. "He's checking his pulse, for a elevation..." she pursed her lips a moment. "You know how when you run your heart beats faster? He's checking for that." she explains. She turned around and then realized this wasn't Ista's Healing hall ,and there were no apprentices to order around. She let her fingers drop. "Say.. Pa'ra... Err Par'a.." she said in a somewhat formal tone. "Would you do me a big favor? please... I am a healer and need my bag.." she seemed more shy about it after a second and then nodded to something perhaps she herself had thought of. "You said you don't do sick, Tal, might be sick but I wanna check... and I need my bag." she kept her voice stead and turned back Talian.

"What did you do? You're not normally this... lively.. jittery... drink to many cups of Klah on a late tnight work frenzy?" she asked. Too many cups of ingested or strong Klah could produce the same effects, but this was almost... like he'd ingested or injected something /else/.

"Kerrin," Talian repeated, filing the name away. He never, ever forgot names. "It's a pleasure to meet you. How long have you been here?" He tended to assume that anyone he met was a captive like himself, though this Kerrin did look a good deal younger. How long had the dragonriders lived in the south again? Was it long enough for anyone in their adolescence to be a native? Talian could only barely remember the plague. He'd been both young and far too busy to pay much attention to it.

Suddenly, a greenrider. Talian twitched as Par'a seated herself close by and extended her hand. The woman's name sounded dragonrider-y, but it wasn't until she mentioned a 'th' name that Talian's suspicions were confirmed. He frowned. "No," he said, unsure of how else to cope with the sudden appearance of a rider. He avoided them when he could, with a single exception in B'jin.

He looked back at her wide-eyed, wide enough that anyone who'd ever met the boy before would know something was off. "Um...Talian. I'm a healer," he stuttered. Much like Kerrin's introductory dilemma, Talian wasn't sure what else to identify himself as.

At that moment, in the middle of the chattering crowd that had inexplicably formed around him, the young man realized what was going on. His heart was racing. His hands, normally steady as stone, were shaking, even as he pressed his fingers against his throat for a pulse. And now everyone was babbling about him being sick!

He closed his eyes and sank a bit lower in his chair. "Oh, no! P-please don't worry about me! I'm fine," he said, his voice bright and uncharacteristically loud, even though he'd tried to suppress it. He laughed a bit, almost giggled. "M-my heartrate is just a little bit...elevated."

Kerrin's face seemed to fall slightly when Talian announced his craft, but the boy quickly recovered, his grin falling easily back into place. "Fifteen turns, same as everyone else," he answered Talian's question, the cheer in his tone continuing unabated despite that slight faltering of seconds before. "I crossed over with my father when I was just three turns old!" he added, holding up the appropriate number of fingers and beaming with pride as if he flown across that stormy ocean himself. It didn't occur to him that Talian might disapprove of his being weyrfolk; after all, the man had seemed to open to conversation until now, and besides that the boy had grown up knowing close to nothing of the North or its people. Katila Weyr was Home, dragons were Life, and Kerrin could never entirely comprehend why anyone should be reluctant to live among them... especially when Katilans had worked so very hard to accomplish everything they had here on the Southern continent, and toiled more and more every day to provide for both themselves and the growing number of Candidates brought over with hopes of their Impressing to Nirinath's impending clutch.

And the thought that a Candidate might not want to Impress, after coming all the way here! Now that was just downright crazy.

Feeling satisfied with his self-introduction, and still completely oblivious to both Talian's discomfort at Par'a's sudden appearance as well as the fact that he may have just soured the trembling healer's opinion of him, Kerrin finally sat back down before his plate of food, simultaneously tearing off a large chunk of his hard-won sweetroll and turning his attention towards the greenrider. "Grith?" he repeated, and thought for a moment while chewing on his breakfast. "Haven't seen her. Sounds like you might need her help if you're gonna get Lym's bag, though. I'd ask Zhiranth but he doesn't always hear me," the boy added with apologetic glances to both Lymsleia and the greenrider beside him. His bond with Zhiranth, his father's dragon, was strong - the great brown beast had more or less helped raise him - but Kerrin was very aware that it would never be a match the sort of intimate connection that existed between a pair-bonded rider and his dragon. Asking him for favors when he was not already present was not always within the realm of possibility, no matter how loudly Kerrin thought he was mentally calling upon him.

Of course, there was always the option of sending someone to physically run to Healer Hall for it. Kerrin knew, however, the problem with that course of action: the task would naturally fall to him, he being the youngest present at the table. He certainly wouldn't be the one to suggest it. With that thought in mind, the boy tucked into his breakfast with vigor, and attempted to look as busy as one possibly could with eating. Lymsleia's last statement, however, caught his attention.

"What do you mean he's not usually like this?" Kerrin sounded disappointed, almost. Just when he thought he could forgive Talian for being another healer... not that healers were bad people or anything, but he really did hate the way they so often smelled of herbs and another nasty medicinal things.

B'jin didn't normally eat breakfast in the dining hall - in fact, he usually went out of his way to avoid it. Partly, because his hut was far enough away that getting to the hall in time to eat anything at all worth the time and effort of the trip was usually not even there any more. Not a huge fan of klah, and a good enough cook to cover most meals, B'jin was happy to eat breakfast in his own hut. So, why was he out and about this particular morning? Larrikith. Why else?

The horrible green monstrosity had woken him up at the crack of dawn to inform him that she was going to go hunting - why she felt that need, B'jin didn't know. She was perfectly capable of going hunting by herself, and often did so. She didn't need to tell him what she was doing, or where she was going at any given moment. So long as she didn't put herself in mortal danger, or the Weyr at risk, she was free to do as she wished. He figured she just liked to torment him, which was nothing new - he'd figured that out the moment she Impressed herself to him.

When B'jin entered the dining hall, he was bare foot, lacing his pants, and had his shirt flung over one shoulder. His usually comical expression was gone in exchange for a grumpy and slightly irritable looking pout that was contorting his features into an expression he didn't want to be wearing but was presently incapable of removing. His movements were quick and jerky as he grumbled under his breath about stupid green dragons and stupid huntings and stupid halls and what was wrong with sleeping in!? Still grumbling, B'jin snatched a plate from a pile, shoved food onto it, and glared around the dining Hall like it held a personal vendetta against him; which is probably did, considering he was standing in it without a shirt on, wearing a thunderous expression, and his blonde-brown hair sticking up in every direction in a display of classical bed-head.

The early hour, the excitable voices, and the totally bizarre grouping were what finally caught his attention. Scowling irritably at the backs of those he could see, B'jin had every intention of marching as far away as he could get from them (preferably out of the hall, while he was at it!) when he heard Talian's name, said by a voice that was definitely Talian's - but that also screamed out something being wrong. B'jin's frown deepened and he grumbled under his breath again, as he stormed his way towards the large, loud, gathering.

"What the-?" B'jin began, and it was the beginning of a demand to know what was going on, as he took in the sight of three candidates, and a fellow greenrider. His eyes were narrowed into brown slits of suspicion as he glared at them all, before finally coming to a rest on Talian. His expression visibly softened as he examined the young healer, before his eyes widened dramatically and his usual comical expression almost returned. After a moment, his features contorted once more. "Lym, go get your bag yourself," he snapped, irritable, as the girl appeared to boss a fellow rider around - A candidate! Boss a rider! The nerve!

B'jin wasn't usually - ever! - someone to pull rank, but the lot of them were being sharding fools! The greenrider slammed his plate of food down on the table, felt his shirt flutter to join it, and then moved around and over to where Talian was sitting.  "What did you take, Tal?" he asked, and his voice when he spoke to the young healer was a warm bubble bath of love an affection. He set his hands on Talian's shoulders, and then slid them down the young man's arms, then held the boy's hands for a moment. An eyebrow quirked as he squeezed one hand for a moment, then allowed Talian to take his hands back, leaving B'jin's own to settle in his lap. Subtle, but he was sure his young ward would understand. Shifting his gaze, B'jin used one hand to snatch his shirt off the table and away from the various plates of food. He shoved it over his head, the same moment he shoved his other hand into his pocket. Face reappearing, a smile flashed for Talian before his uncharacteristic glare was given to the rest of them.

Kerrin nearly jumped out of his seat when B'jin slammed his tray down on the table, but it didn't take long for him to recognize that the rider was in some kind of mood, which had him quickly scooting his way down the bench to make room for the older man without a single word. After all, moody greenriders were not an unusual occurrance at the weyr; not only did they tend to have pretty powerful personalities in general, but with flights going on nearly every day, wise weyrbrats quickly learned to dodge inexplicably snarling dragonriders without any gratuitous commentary on their behavior. Kerrin stuffed more sweetroll into his face, watching the goings-on with wide amber eyes and looking rather comfortable in his natural assumption that whatever had B'jin in such foul temper surely had absolutely nothing to do with him.

What he did find rather unusual was the rather... intimate way in which B'jin held Talian's hands, and he knew he couldn't be the only one left wondering at the sudden change of the greenrider's tone of voice from snappish snarl to sweet affection. The rider's current state of shirtlessness also did nothing to reel in Kerrin's imagination. Discreetly - or so he thought, anyway - the boy leaned over to whisper to Par'a, "Isn't Talian kinda young for him?"

Lymsleia listened to herself. As B'jin Barked at her she wanted to wheel around and strike him. But that would get her no where- well probably put in solitary. And then she couldn't care for Volfetti from  solitary confinement. She  glanced at B'jin. "Sorry. I just don't think I should leave him. He's got an elevated heart rate." Lymsleia tried to put on her bravest face.

"It'd be bad, as an attending healer to potentially leave someone with an elevated heart rate. Seconds are sometimes crucial, especially if we don't know what's going on and my bag is back at Healer 'hall'." she explains with a firm tone. "It was a request." she assures the rider. "Not a .... a.. command- if it could be called that. I just don't want to leave him, but  I can and will get it.." she stands slowly.

Perhaps its best that a make a second bag that I can carry with me at all times.. cumbersome but arguably more useful. Perhaps make it smaller...

Lymsleia was more perplexed at the sound of B'jin speaking to Talian she was curious. Such warmth. Such, affection no one ever spoke to her like that.. ever. She tried to suppress a growl.

So much happened so quickly that it was hard for Talian to keep up. He found himself trying awkwardly to explain his condition to Kerrin, whose disappointed expression earned a small, nervous laugh from the healer. "Well, you see...I have been in a little bit of slump since arriving here," he said. How did one tactfully explain that yes, he often wanted to act this way and felt inclined to, but he was normally too much of a shut in to actually do it? Or in this case, too timid to do it without drugs? His eye twitched as he tried to find the words, but he was interrupted when B'jin made his thunderous appearance.

Talian instinctively cringed. "B'jin!" he squeaked. He was happy to see the greenrider, of course, but also highly alarmed. B'jin looked so.. uncharacteristically disheveled. There seemed to be an aura of anger around the man. Now, Talian knew sharding well that B'jin had an angry side. He'd seen it himself. But for the time being, he could only assume that he was the cause.

"I-..." he stammered, watching as B'jin turned on Lymsleia. "I don't think s-she meant,  I think she's just worried, I think-"

He cast a helpless glance to Lym as B'jin took hold of him. Talian relaxed visibly as he heard the greenrider's tone soften, but his face heated up when he heard Kerrin's comment. Had he heard that correctly? He squeezed B'jin's hands instinctively and slumped in his chair. "Oh...it's not like that," he whispered, the words catching in his throat even though he meant to project them loudly.

What had he taken? He let out a squeak and slumped forward, buryting his face in his hands without bothering to pull them away from B'jin. "I was depressed! I t-t-took some m-medicine. I thought it would help! B'jin, you're embarrassing me!" he said, his voice becoming unusually shrill near the end of the statement. He made himself as small as he could. "It's not what it looks like!" he proclaimed to everyone at the table, his voice frantically defensive, albeit muffled.

"B'jin! Please don't kill me!" he whimpered, leaning closer to the man, ever oblivious to how it made him look.

Valerian shuffled, half-blindly, into the dining hall with a yawn he didn’t bother to cover. What did manners matter at such an early hour when there wouldn’t be too many people around and if there was, they would likely be in a similar state? Unless, of course, they were one of those sickeningly cheerful types that loved to rise with the sun and sang with the birds. He could appreciate the singing part and even the enthusiasm to be alive and starting another day but did they have to do it so loudly and with such chipper expressions? No, they did not, at least not in his presence, and one day he would tell that person what they could do with their obnoxious lust for life.

After grabbing only a roll and a mug of steaming klah that he took a moment to take a deep breath of, inhaling and savouring the sweet spicy scent that helped to perk him up a bit, Valerian turned to the tables and heard, before spotting, the group of people off to the side. Maybe that day of snapping someone’s head off for being too loud in the morning was upon him sooner than he thought. With a few rapid blinks and then a squint of the eyes to help clear his vision entirely, Valerian realized he recognized most of the people gathered at the table and his mind boggled at why such a group would ever exist. Of course this meant he had to join them and find out and boy was he glad when he did.

The few sips of klah that were taken on the path across the room helped clear his mind and Valerian felt his wit wasn’t as keen as it normally was but it was a good start considering he hadn’t been up long. When he finally approached the table, it was a scene of minor chaos. Some were angry, others seemed upset or confused, and a couple seemed like food was going out of style and they had to consume every last bite in thirty seconds or less. But the strangest sight of all was, of course, the greenrider B’jin. The man was already odd and while Valerian adored Larrikith he still wasn’t sure on where his opinion laid when it came to the rider. The fact that he heard B’jin yelling at people on his walk over did earn the man a few bonus points in favour of being liked though.

It was, however, the way B’jin now spoke in soothing tones directed at Talian while they held hands that drew Valerian’s attention and after another sip of klah, he spoke up, announcing his presence, “I dunno, Talian. From where I’m standing it looks pretty intimate. I didn’t know you preferred your lovers older or male. I had pegged you as being too shy to hold hands with a woman let alone even consider bedding a man. I guess B’jin is a decent enough pick though.”

Par'a nodded at Talian, shaking his hand firmly. As he introduced himself she frowned a little then grinned, slapping him heartily on the back. "Healers are handy! Good for all us wherryheads who get sick! Nice to meet you Talian. Maybe I'll remember your name this time." She laughed at her own forgetful-ness when it came to people's names. As B'jin arrived Par'a gave him a brief wave mid-scoff. She swallowed rapidly as he berated Lymsleia, waving a hand at him and shaking her head at the two of them.

"Don't be so proddy you great lump. Healers are meant to heal, not be runners! Though I have no idea where Grith is, especially if you have no idea," this she directed at Kerrin, "sharding dragon! Never leaves me alone except when I need her." Par'a paused for a moment, taking a drink of water and pouting, in her distracted, chatty state she had been expecting something a little, err, stronger. Peering over at Talian and B'jin she broke out into whoops of laughter, slapping her hand on the table repeatedly.

"Not used to the Weyr yet love? Or say, did you get mixed up in his last flight?" She choked out to Talian, her laughter devolving into giggles much like a teenager who had just said a naughty word. As Kerrin leaned over she halted her giggles abruptly, staring wide-eyed at him. When she was sure he'd finished talking she burst into giggles again for a few moments before she managed to compose herself.

"Young? Oh ho ho, let me tell you, to a dragonrider, nobody is too young. You should know that! Let's see… I'd say maybe two decades between them? There's been much worse here! Do you remember the Brown and Greenrider? W… W… Their names both started with W, but of course, I'm terrible with names. Still, four decades between 'em, easily!" Par'a paused, frowning in thought before muttering to herself, "Oh I'm talking so much, am I making up for Grith? I really should find that dragon."

It wasn't long before she was sent into a burst of laughter again, this time it was Valerian's comments about Talian and B'jin that set her off. Turning she looked him over and deducted that she wasn't entirely sure who this was. Sticking her hand out she grinned, "Par'a's the name, eating's the game! Who're you?" Her expression was completely innocent, while she probably came off as oblivious or perhaps rude, she just truly was very sharding bad with names. Swivelling back to face the table she looked around, my, they certainly were acquiring quite the little group! A Katilian born, a proddy rider, a smart-mouth, a healer, no wait, two healers.

"Oh!" Par'a faced Lymsleia now, her eyes alight with remembrance. "I'd go fetch your bad but uh, I'm sure one of you younger fellows," Par'a gestured to Lymsleia, Valerian and Kerrin with a wave of her fork, "could run faster than I could. Grith is well, lost, clearly. By the way, did you make this? Very delicious. Should make it in great batches, you should." Par'a helped herself to another serving of the potato bake and dug in, it really was delicious!

B'jin's eyes flashed in warning at Lymsleia's expression, as if he could read her very thoughts and his very stance simply dared her to contradict him. Her little speech was given nothing more than a disgusted look before he turned his attention away dismissivly. She would get her own medicine bag if that was what she wanted, but he wouldn't have a lowly candidate - no matter what secondary rank she currently held, which was moot the moment she stepped into Candidacy at any rate - bossing any of his fellow riders around. All of them should have undergone enough lessons by this point ot know that they were lower on the ranking social ladder than even the Weyrbrats that ran around under everyone's feet. Lips twitching in an angry sneer, B'jin dismissed her.

He then tried to process what it was that Talian had done to himself to cause the every situation they were currently all involved in. The boy was having a mental breakdown, obviously! B'jin's attention, however, was instead captured firmly by Par'a, and he turned a thunderous glare upon the elder greenrider, his very posture indignant and filled with a vile outrage. "I am not proddy!" B'jin snapped, scowling irritably at Par'a as if she had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Proddy indeed! What nerve! The very idea was absolutely outlandish! What in the name of Faranth could possibly have caused her to think he, B'jin were anything remotely related to proddy?! It was just beyond him! Speaking of which;

"What?!" B'jin yelped, so startled that he lost all other emotions, and everything Talian said swept past him in a torrent unheard, in exchange for staring at Kerrin as if the weyrbrat were completely wherry brained. He thought what now?! The greenrider stared at Kerrin, eyes huge, even as he wrapped his arms around Talian as the boy leaned towards him, and held him comfortably to himself. He? Hit on Talian? The thought alone was almost too much to process. How could anyone think he could possibly be hitting on Talian?! It was ludicrous! That's what it was! Ludicrous! B'jin opened his mouth, more than prepared to give the young Katilan a thorough talking to on exactly how many levels of wrong bedding Talian would be, when Para' got in first and championed the very lot of them and their wildly outlandish train of thoughts. Expression filled with rage, B'jin opened his mouth and called attention upon the entire group with two words.

"HOLD UP!" He bellowed, voice loud and to the full capacity of a dragonrider that had spent the better part of his life in the official Harper Hall. Several other occupants within the Hall froze and turned to watch the goings on, but the very proddy green rider in question was only focused on those that surrounded him in a gossiping circle that apparently seemed to feel he and Talian were some kind of icon of Dragonrider lust! B'jin sat there, his arms tight and reassuring around Talian as he stared at them all, waiting angrily for their attention before he began a lecture for all their information - because apparently, they were not very well educated!

"Firstly, I am much better than 'just decent'," he snapped at Valerian. Priorities must be made, and B'jin had carefully manicured pride that needed to be protected at all costs. He was much better than 'decent enough'! It was hardly his fault the young man hadn't found anyone as amazing as B'jin to hold onto, or to enjoy and could obviously only dream of one day being involved with someone of such an amazing scale as B'jin himself obviously resided upon. Brown eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare at Valerian, before he turned that same gaze sharply upon Par'a, and a sneer formed upon his lips. "I am not proddy and I most certainly did not get a child I consider my own tangled in my bed sheets!"

Thoroughly satisfied with that response, B'jin glared around the party of on lookers, daring any of them to contradict him. He was not proddy. Being proddy would mean Larrikith was about to fly, and she was most certainly not due to fly. B'jin, stubborn in that fact, refused to dignify their accusations by doing the maths that would have told him she was due to fly the day before.

B'jin and Talian.. an item? She took a moment to muddle over the sublte implications of this. They wre both male-not uncommon in Falen's Hold (most of the ladies were put up on pedastals anyway). But the hand squeeze made her more concerned. "Tal, don't move." she said firmly. She walked slowly away, and then after clearing some space broke into a dead run. Bag, and then go back to Tal, and his... friend. B'jin was -as far as she knew according to everyone else- really a gentle person and she could see it with his response and concern with Tal.

But as she returned with her bag slung over her shoulder bouncing against her hip. Lymlseia tried to keep her laughter down as she replayed the 'It's not what it looks like in her mind. She did catch the first part of the statement and stepping up to Talian she set her bag down, ignoring B'jin essential. "Tal.. you NEED to tell what you took. Please." her voice was concerned as she reached foreward to check is pulse, she stopped her eyes flickering to his face. Were his pupils dilated? If he'd been depressed-- he'd have taken a stimulant...

Oh definately. That'd explain the behavior. Stimulants made some peoples body chemistry weird. This qualified as an extreme switch of behavior and personality. As Kerrin spoke she winced. Wow, a barb from someone she didn't know. Did Talian actually perfer men- not that it bothered much. But it did sting a little bit. Just a little.

To Par'a Lymlseia waved her bag. "I went and got it, easier to do, once I realized how short the distance can be.." she managed to breath towards the woman. She wasn't exactly out of breath, but it was clear the dash had made her a little breathless. Lymsleia looked at her small dish of cheesy potatoes ogratin. It would be all cold by the time she got to it now.. Ahh such is the of the Healer.

The Bellowing and yelling caught her off guard. She fought down a sudden rise of panic. She hated fighting and arguing, it induced such a response. Do not cower. She repeated to herself as tears began to well in her eyes.  He considered Talian, his own? his Own what? child? Love? She momentarily sat back from Talian and B'jin. She'd be so close when he Bellowed she'd not realized she clutched the table, and was turning her fingers almost purple-red with the pressure.

"B'jin." she whispered softly. "Calm down,please. for Tal's sake. He may be under a stimulant, and depending on what he took, your shouting could kill him!!" she whispered it so low, she wasn't sure she could be heard. But her own heart was pound. She hated that sound, the sound of yelling and anger.

Valerian's appearance only made Talian want to die even more. He recognized the other boy from the infirmary a,ong other places, and knew he was dealing with a snarker. That was all well and good, Talian could take it...but shards if he wasn't in a vulnerable position at that very moment!

He tried to face Valerian, but it was hard to do so when he was being indignantly crushed against B'jin's chest. In his stimulant-driven frenzy, his reply didn't come out nearly so eloquently as he wanted it to: "Hey! I-i'll have you know th-that I had a girlfriend back home!" he blurted, speaking publicly of Fiora for the first time since his arrival, a move he would almost certainly regret later. "And she and I held hands all the time! And other stuff!" he jittered. Of course, his adamant, heartfelt retort probably sounded a bit defensive to curious ears.

His eyes flashed quickly to Par'a. "Flight?! No!" he squeaked. He remembered the undesirably effects of Nirinath's flight. In all honesty, this was the first time Talain had even considered the fact that Larrikith would do the same thing. He knew enough about dragons to know the little green ones didn't lay eggs, but he'd heard their screeching and witnessed their acrobatic displays before. In spite of infertility, the little green ones still took mates.

Larrikith, though? It just didn't sit well with the boy. He couldn't imagine her doing that! He couldn't imagine B'jin doing that! It was like the horrifying moment in his early schooling when he realized his parents must have had sex with each other to produce him.

How horrible! He immediately banished the terrible thought from his mind.

"M-most certainly not!" he squeaked again, burying his face in B'jin's chest in shame, his hands still shaking uncontrollably.

This was bad, he thought. He could feel his heart racing even faster. He knew without looking at himself that his eyes must have been wild and wide, dilated and perhaps just a bit twitchy. He realized that his reaction to the medication was far worse than he'd dared dread, and the excitement from the crowd was making it worse. His heart was beating faster, causing his blood to flow more quickly and spread the stimulant through him...

His usually active mind was whirling way too fast for him to keep up with. He tried to devise a solution, but instead he just shorted out. It only got worse when B'jin started to shout. Talian cringed against him. He'd never seen B'jin this angry! Suddenly and irrationally terrified (probably from the drugs), he became aware of a lump in his throat.

By the time B'jin was done shouting, Lymsleia was back. Tal peeked from B'jin's chest and sniffed once, trying to mask his distress. "Oh, please don't worry!" he half-whimpered, half-begged. His voice didn't come out as clearly or as loudly as he'd have liked. "I took...half a sprig of..." he stumbled over his words for a moment as he tried to remember the name of the herb. How had he forgotten? He never forgot anything! Ever!

He wilted as he realized just how much of a mess he was. He finally managed to produce the name of the herb and cast her an apologetic look. He hadn't meant to worry anyone, and now he'd worried two of the people who'd been kindest to him at Katila.

He wanted to apologize to B'jin too, but frankly, he was a bit scared. "B'jin," he coughed, wiggling weakly in the greenrider's increasingly tight grasp, "I can't breathe..."

Oh, this was getting good. Valerian continued to eat his sweet roll even while B’jin’s anger turned his way. Honestly, it was rather amusing to see this side of the greenrider that seemed to constantly smile and lack a care in the world. He also wasn’t the first person to snap at the harper for expressing his point of view so anything said with such a tone wasn’t anything to lament on or ruin his day over. Although given how concerned B’jin was by everyone thinking he was proddy and how fervently he denied such a thing could be possible had Valerian believe the man protested too much and therefore it was bound to be true.

But it was Talian that earned another look over as the last of the sweet roll was finished off. The healer’s rambling truths were interesting and completely unexpected which had Valerian mentally chalking up a point in his favour for being the one to push Talian to the limit and finally talk about something personal. What he had said upon his arrival had been the truth, not just something to needle him—though that was the intention despite truth or lie, so to hear about the quiet man not only holding hands with a woman but doing something ‘more’ with her was somewhat impressive. That confession would also likely set off the rest of the gawkers that seemed to enjoy talking over one another and running around in a panic like Thread was falling. Seriously, who was the younger girl that seemed to care more about having a bag with her than the fun conversation they were all partaking in, albeit at differing volumes and hanging onto differing key points that were mentioned?

Anyway, it didn’t matter. What did matter was he had just finished the last gulp of his klah and Valerian sighed, knowing he would need more to keep him going with the hyperactive lot he had fallen into. “Hey,” he called out, unconcerned about who he was speaking over so long as he had the attention for a moment and thanks to his harper training, he knew the same techniques as B’jin for making his voice carry over large crowds. “I’m out of klah. No one move or continue these fun times until I get back.” Satisfied with his order at least being heard and perhaps obeyed if only out of shock at being told to sit still, Valerian went back for a refill.

Kerrin, for his part, continued to appear completely unfazed by B'jin's current state of wherry-brained eccentricity, for unlike the other Candidates he had seen his fair share of whacked out greenriders running about Katila in various states of flight-induced rage the past 12 or so turns since the weyr's establishment. It sure was hard to believe Talian's insistence that nothing untoward was going on between he and the older man with the rider crushing him possessively to his chest like that, though. Just as he was about to mumble something to Par'a about how no one would ever be catching him with any 80 year old blue or brownriders if he were to Impress a green, B'jin's indignant bellow silenced whatever words could have fallen from his mouth, and the teenaged weyrbrat's jaw snapped closed with an audible click of his teeth.

Unfortunately, Kerrin's wide-eyed expression of humbled silence was short-lived, for it was quickly replaced with a  barely stifled snicker and a clearly amused smirk that he did very little to hide behind the hand that muffled his laughter. He was starting to grow concerned about Talian, he really was - for the healer seemed to be growing more breathless and panicked by the second, and was so twitchy at this point that he could have been vibrating - but B'jin's insistence that he was ABSOLUTELY NOT proddy was just getting hilarious by this point... and when Talian stuttering something or other about his girlfriend-back-home the boy simply could not contain his commentary any longer.

"Look, Talian," Kerrin started, pausing a moment to finish off the last bit of his roll and, once he'd swallowed it, continuing on with wide, sweeping gestures of his hands. "Just 'cause you like girls doesn't mean you don't also like guys, all right? You don't have to hide who you are here." The boy paused again, amber eyes following Valerian's back as he watched the other man walk off for a refill of his klah... and then promptly turned back to the group at large.

"And anyway," Kerrin carried on, unconcerned by Valerian's mandate to stop talking, because when did he ever listen to anything like that? Some newbie Stolen certainly wasn't going to succeed where dozens of exasperated Katilan weyrfolk had failed. Nor did he seem too worried about the exceedingly casual way he addressed the spastic greenrider, for as one of the very few Katilan weyrbrat-turned-Candidates thus far Kerrin was still far too used to treating dragonriders as his friends and communal babysitters rather than his superiors. "B'jin, before you hug Talian to death, think about it. Don't you think Larrikith has been looking pretty green these past few days?"

When Lymsleia waved her bag at Par'a she ceased her laughter and turned a deathly cold look upon her. "I'm sixty-three! I can see perfectly fine that you have your bag, I am not blind with age!" She snapped to her. Apparently she had struck a nerve, or at least Par'a had interpreted her that way. Turning her back on the Candidate she sniffed, that definitely had ruined any potential friendship, at least for the remainder of her day.

Her sour expression was lifted instantly as soon as B'jin began his tirade. Great whoops of laughter competed with his bellows, while tears began to stream down her face. It took her quite a few attempts to calm herself enough to speak, and even when she did it was with many giggles scattered throughout. "Not…  proddy my ass! You're prodder than… a Goldrider! Oh, and, I wouldn't be so, sure about that. I've heard there are some very unsatisfied, flight winners of yours, around here." Finally finished in getting her jibes out she devolved into a fit of giggles and laughter again, clutching her belly as she rocked back and forward somewhat on the bench.

Noticing Talian feebly struggling to escape B'jin's ever-tightening grasp she suddenly composed herself. Leaning over she poked him curiously in the shoulder through B'jin's desperate class. Stifling a giggle, she straightened up. "You'll need to do better than that. Like this!" With that she sent herself madly flailing for how she thought Talian should be moving, her swinging arms almost clocking Kerrin in the head.

Pell! Oh Pell I'm sorry! Where are you?! Grith's mental screech shocked Par'a into complete stillness and silence, a worried look crossing her face. '…I'm in the Dining Hall.' She answered grudgingly, quite worried about the enthusiasm that was pouring down their mental link to her. Okay! I'm coming! Right now! Oh look, there's Larrikith! … Ooh! This last word was punctuated with the slam of the double doors being flung open and clear off their hinges, landing several feet away in either direction. Where they had been seconds ago Grith stood, or more, hung. Her large belly and wings were wedged in the doorframe where she had leapt, her feet barely able to scrape the floor when she stretched. Her eyes whirled a vibrant pink of excitement as she turned her head to face the table her rider sat at. The next three words she spoke were broadcast to the entire population within the Hall.

Larrikith is flying!

B'jin's disgruntled gaze turned sharply upon Kerrin, glaring angrily at the young Katilan as if everything that was happening were the boy's personal fault, whilest doing his best to ignore Par'a and her obnoxious commentary. How dare she?! Instead, the greenrider's eyes narrowed further, brown slits barely visible though they flashed with emotion. His lips twisted, as he attempted to come up with a reply. "No." He settled on, biting the single word out, though it was quickly contrasted as B'jin stiffened, his entire body going ramrod straight where he sat and his face contorted before blanking out entierly.

There was nothing at all humane about his face as his eyes blankly stared at nothing and his features relaxed completely. A shudder visibly traveled his spine, as the rider's mind desperately sought out that of his dragon, worry swirling around inside. He'd just make sure... When he found her, he was so wrapped up in the connection that he spoke out loud without meaning to - "Larri?" - and that single word carried a whole platoon of confusion and worry, the rider uncertain as his dragon seemed to carefully withdraw from him whilest remainig on high frequency; surely anyone with even an ounce of ability could hear her thoughts! "What are you doing?" Uncertainty wrapped the words in a thick blanket, and they came out half whispered. He couldn't even feel Talian, pressed to his chest, mixed up in his dragon as he was, completely oblivious to the gathering. Despite that, his left hand continued to rub reassuring circles over Talian's back the entire time. He could never, ever, have Talian angry at him again.

Sunning! She chirped, her voice far too cheerful, light hearted, and broadcast for everyone to hear. That was not right. Larrikith never sounded like that, except - B'jin's eyes flashed full of life as suddenly as he had blanked out, and every ounce of rediculous proddy anger left him and was instead replaced by a very easy to read need to flee. He had to get away! He had to be somewhere else! He had to get away! Panicing, uncharacteristically, the greenrider tightened his grip around Talian like the boy was a life boat and his breath hitched. This was wrong, all wrong! He hadn't been this stupid since Larrikith's first flight - and that had been a disaster - B'jin's face flushed then paled rapidly. Oh, he couldn't possibly live through two of those horrible, awful, times. He couldn't!

The greenrider was lost to the world as his own thoughts travelled at the speed of light, and didn't hear Lymsleia's warning about yelling or upsetting Talian. If he had, he probably would have done more to calm himself down lest he worry the young Healer. Talian was important, Talian could not be hurt. Talian also could not be within about four hundered dragon lengths when Larrikith took to the skies! (So many levels of wrong!) Something which was definitely going to happen within a very short amount of time. The greenrider had to get away. He had to leave. Now! B'jin's brown eyes were wild as he looked down at the young man that was currently occupying the forefront of his thoughts, and blinked blankly as the child wriggled against his encircling arms. He hadn't realise how tightly his grip on the young man had grown, even as one hand had been attempting to calm him with careful if completely mindless back-rubbing. B'jin shuddered again, visibly, and jerked his arms away from around Talian, pushing himself away from the young healer in the process, and sliding along the bench, not concious of the hard shove he'd given the younger man in the process.

There! There was space between them now. That was good, yes, good. B'jin felt like that time, that first time. Oh, that had been horrifying and embarressing and beyond terrible! First flights were always awkward, B'jin knew that! But that had been just above and beyond the worst he could possibly have imagined, and B'jin had the terrifying feeling that this flight, this one that he hadn't realised was impending, was going to be so amazingly worse. B'jin shuddered again, feeling the heat of the sun on his shoulders - wait, no! He was inside! - and lust flashed in his eyes, darkening the brown to a warm, inviting chocolate and his expression altered subtly as he looked over those that surrounded him - no! They were here for Talian! - with an appreciative and hungry glint. Who would prove their worth?

He felt like a Weyrling, undergoing First Flight, and he shuddered, terrified. "She's up to something!" he gasped, just as Grith came charging through the doorway, while outside, Larrikith's scream of lust broke through the early morning air with defiance and the unmistakable ring of a challenge. A cocky grin wrapped itself over B'jin's lips as he stumbled to stand upright, feeling the warm heat of the sun on his wings, and staggard past the corner of the table, which he caught his thigh on with an audible crash, and the item he'd taken such care to shove in fluttered to the floor. He had to get out of the Dining Hall! It was no place for a Flight to occur! B'jin stumbled, trying to get around the edge of the table, and lips pulled back in a hiss of warning when someone didn't get out of his way - or was it Larrikith that hissed?

Talian's eyes widened as he looked between Kerrin and Par'a. "I...I'm not ashamed of anything!" he stammered. "I'm not interested in other men! At all, even!" he said, his voice quavering in near panic. Of course, there was a glint of insincerity in his eyes. Talian was poor enough at hiding his emotions normally, he surely couldn't do it while high out of his mind! And as he sat there, facing accusations of questionable heterosexuality, he could think only of his awkward encounter with Erisi. It...really wasn't so bad. His face started to heat up.

When Par'a began her little demonstration of proper escape techniques, Talian was so floored that he could only stare at her in wild eyed disbelief. Was she completely insane?

No. There was no way a adult person was actually doing this to him. He must be crazy! He was high on stimulants and hadn't slept well in a number of days. He was losing his mind!

He'd only begun to think of solutions when B'jin forcibly pushed him away, sending him crashing face first on the floor. The ehaler landed in a heap, his face smacking unpleasantly on the floor, and laid there in stunned silence as his surrogate father figure ran out of the dining hall shouting like a lunatic.

Why? Why had life become so interesting?

He sighed weakly and twitched a few times, not even bothering to scrape himself off of the floor. He didn't notice the subtle clatter of his shoulder knots hitting the floor beside him. In his medication-induced revelry, he'd forgotten to leave them in his room, as he'd been doing since his arrival at Katila. He'd worn them, not realizing that he was betraying his rank to everyone around him...and failng to notice when B'jin stole them through invasive hugging. Now, B'jin had dropped them, leaving them discarded on the floor alongside with the man they belonged to. They were the elegant, well-crafted knots of a master healer.

Had Tal noticed, he would have hid them again. Presently, however, he was seeing spots. He let out a groan and became suddenly aware of warm blood pooling around his nose.

Ronarth was unusually distracted, which was putting D'ren in a bad mood. He'd overheard that some sort of brouhaha was going on in the dining caverns, and he would have liked to know what exactly it was without walking down there himself. He knew it had to do with several candidates and a couple greenriders, which frankly, sounded like a huge mess of trouble.

Ronarth, I would appreciate some help the bronzerider said as he walked towards the dining hall. He didn't want to make a personal appearance, but it looked like it would be necessary. Unfortunately for D'ren, Ronarth still didn't answer. The bronze was daydreaming, it would seem, lost in one of his whimsical lovestruck fantasies.

Ronarth! D'ren said sternly, projecting his seriousness and irritation towards the bronze. It was enough to jar Ronarth from whatever vexed him, but D'ren didn't care for the result. In a dreamy voice, almost completely uncharacteristically mellow and seductive, the awkward dragon purred Larrikith...

D'ren paused and arched a brow. He was so puzzled that he decided not to dedicate any thought to it, lest he wind up with a massive headache.

If he wanted to give it any thought, he would have been cruelly cut off. Grith made her magnificent appearance, dropping into view before destroying the doorways leading into the dining halls with Ronarth-level poise and effectiveness. D'ren's jaw slacked. "What?!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperated horror as he paced towards the building. Things got worse when the green got herself wedged, wings and belly lodged in the doorway like a fat child trying to wriggle under a fence. D'ren could already feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

Unbelievable! he thought. That green was...destroying the dining hall?

He bolted to the door and found his way through the biggest gap between door and dragon before taking off inside. He quickly located what must be the troubled group; B'jin storming away, soe kid laying bloody in the floor, Par'a flailing her arms about...

As he approached, the greenrider he was so fond of practically collided with him. Hissed at him, too. D'ren narrowed his eyes and frowned. "B'jin! What's gotten in to you?"

Hm, what was that icky feeling? Ronarth?

Larrikith

What does Larrikith have to do with this?

"B'jin!"

---

Posted twice due to having two characters in the scene. D'ren will be splitting off soon.

With his mug once more filled with the blissful substance known as klah, Valerian turned back for the chaotic group. It had been a tough decision mere moments earlier whether he should leave for more liquid rejuvenation and possibly miss out on something he could use to tease a person with later or stand guard for that magical moment with a mind that still wasn't fully awake yet. With the first sip of that second cup, Valerian thought he had chosen wisely but when he returned to the scene of entertainment he quickly changed his mind and frowned.

"I thought I said not to move." B'jin was running away, the elderly woman looked like she was having a stroke, and Talian was on the hard floor. Oh, and there was a dragon stuck in the doorway. None of that screamed 'yes, Harper, we shall listen to you and wait for your grand return so you won't miss a thing.' And he was supposed to get along with these people, live with them for the rest of their lives? He supposed this one time he could overlook that slight since his favourite little dragon was to blame for the new round of confusion and hilarity. At least that was if the new dragon-shaped door was to be believed. And that was another thing; it was far too early for unexpected dragonspeak!

A large gulp of klah was taken to help him catch up with the chaos before crouching down beside Talian. A long slender finger slowly reached out and he poked the man on the shoulder twice, "you doing okay down here, Talian? This probably isn't the best location to sleep off a night of substance abuse or a broken heart. I noticed B'jin took off running which can't be a good sign for a relationship."

It was as Valerian inspected the man to make sure he wasn't any closer to death that he caught sight of the elegant knots lying discarded beside Talian. It was unlikely the girl that had gone on and on about her bag owned them and he suspected no one else at the table was of the right mindset for such a position as a master healer so that left Talian as the owner. It was impressive if not odd and Valerian felt there was a story behind that rank. So he casually scooped them up as he set down his mug and shifted, making it look like he was adjusting the way he crouched and slid them into his long shirt sleeve with the intention of returning them once the healer didn't seem like he had mentally checked out.

Lymselia nodded. She knew the plant and reached into her bag and produced the knotted cord which held it shut. She held it in front of his eyes. "See. Take a deep breath." she said reaching to get the scent under his nose. "Recognize it?"

She waited a breath, reaching to check his pulse. "B'jin." her voice wazs firm and direct. "For that you love ,Talian, you need to let him go physically, his heart rate is up, and if he's feel claustrophobic, and is having shortness of breath it can be a heart attack, or it could be anxiety or it could be both- one may lead to the other and compound it. Let him go." she was practically commanding him as the last three words left her lips. She hadn't meant to be so forceful. But Healer protocal stated she could take 'command' if need be and  B'jin be dropped between without his sharding green if Tal died because he wouldn't let go.

She set the pouch on the table. "You, red shirt."  she barked to a young man with a red shirt, he was kitchen staff at the point but the redshirt was just easy to pick out in the crowd, and the rest of the wherryheads were too gossipy-in her mind- so she picked someone else. "I need you to heat me some water. Not to boiling, just warm." she began and sent him about his duties. "Actually put two on, I need to clean  my hands." she looked down at them. They were clean, but she didn't want foreign bodies or dirt in her dried herbs. Contaminates could be deadly.

She cleaned her hands and let the situation with Par'a drop like a stone. She didn't have time for this. B'jin behavior made her antsy, and the word proddy was thrown around like it should mean-- SHARDS. It hit her hard when heard the green dragon scream. A different scream. But she know it. "Shards and Shells!" she moved towards Talian, he was drugged, and this could do more heart damage. She didn't what kind of damaged a Flight could do to a mind, but he wasn't in a good state anway. She gestured to Valerian. Can you help me move him?" the doors flying off spooked her , but she focused. Talian needed her knowledge right now. "Please." the words were firm and she glanced at Par'a, "Please, I need help to move him. We need to at least get to the Healer Hall. This is going to make this.. worse." she  reached to check his pulse. "Tal, can you walk?" She looked between the others and herself, and to the wake that B'jin had left. "We should probably all get moving, at least to the Healer hall. I need to able to bring his heart rate down." She spoke quietly and reached for Talian.

Dragonriders... They were... dealing with two minds. It sounded tough...

As D’ren scrambled beneath Grith she chirped happily and wriggled in the doorway. Hello Weyrleader! Did you hear? Larrikith is flying! She announced to him cheerily. While she waited for someone to come talk to her she wriggled side to side in the frame, her head and tail swinging back and forth. What a peculiar image that must be from the outside.

Lymsleia’s words at first appeared to go completely past Par’a, who had turned and was staring at Grith. Standing she waved a hand absentmindedly at the healer. “Sorry, no can do. You ain’t gonna move him anywhere until I move that green lump of mine,” she called back as she walked off towards the entrance. When she passed D’ren on her way to Grith she sheepishly kept her gaze away from his, knowing that he most certainly wouldn’t be pleased with the damage her dragon had just wrecked on the Dining Hall, again. Coming to a halt before her happy Green she sighed, crouching down and peering around her.

“Why’d you go and do that for Grith?” Par’a asked, though why she bothered she wasn’t sure. I wanted to see you Pell! Grith answered excitedly, her pink gaze turned on her rider. “You can see me outside. You know that buildings are for humans, not fully grown dragons. Look at what you’ve done! D’ren and Tsuen won’t be pleased at all. Remember what happened last time?” But I wanted to see you! Par’a sighed again. Even if she had thrust the memory of Grith’s last grounding for breaking the doors into the dragon’s mind, she wouldn’t have received any acknowledgement of it. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was attempting to reason with the Green honestly.

“Now, how to get you out.” Par’a stood and walked around to one side. Giving her dragon a great shove she groaned, she was even more tightly wedged than the last time. Reaching around her belly and wings she tried to feel if there was any way she could be loosened without additional help, but it appeared that that was not the case. “I think we’re going to need butter, or oil. And a lot of it.” Turning around she gazed at the chaos that had erupted, finally noticing it now that she was apart from it. Sighing she leant against Grith, with this mess, there was no way she was going to call one of them over to help her. Nobody seemed to have their brains switched on this morning.

B'jin was oblivious to the world, but he was standing still now, swaying slightly before the Weyrleader. Larrikith was domeneering his mind, the warm flash of sunlight oon a wing, the possessive growl of a dragon who thought he had a right to her body, the whimsical voice of a bronze. Larrikith screeched again, challenging them all, and in the Dining Hall, B'jin's eyes flashed the challenge, while his lips twisted into a cocky smile as he at the Weyrleader with a wash of emotions the rider never ever would have dreamed of bestowing upon a man he highly regarded.

"B'jin!" The harsh sound of D'ren's insistant usage of his name caused the rider in question to shudder visibly, and he gulped in a massive breath, feeling very much like he'd just been dunked by a rather large bucket of water - which, given his current state, probably would have been a good idea - and stared at D'ren with huge eyes. Barely a moment passed, and he lifted his arms and gave the Weyrleader a solid shove in the chest, intent on sending the stockier man stumbling away from him, a hiss of challenge, or success, following. Before the entire motion was even completed, however, he was lost and his arms dropped to his side quickly, and his body went lax as Larrikith claimed his mind. They were one, and undeniable lust flashed across B'jin's face and resided deep in his brown eyes.

Larrikith shrieked again, shooting up into the air from where she had been sunning herself outside the Hall. Her gorgeous mossy coat shone brighter than any gold could dream of, naturally, and her lieth and light figure easily sped between those few that had come in to see what was going on and not landed yet. She barely paid them a mind as she aimed for the clouds like a lusty green arrow, and vanished into a thick clump. Her bugle of challenge issued out of it, muffled, before she shot off to the left, banking hard and streaking through the bright morning sunlight.

---

[sup]HORRID POST IS HORRID *dies of shame*

This post is also a Topic Starter for Larri's flight.[/sup]

Kerrin wished desperately to stick around to watch the the insanity unfold. Sure, greenflights were a thing that happened almost every day... but it was pretty rare for the rider to be trapped in the dining hall right in front of everyone when it happened, and that was enough to make this one even more interesting than usual. And now the weyrleader was involved?! By the first egg, this was getting fantastic.

But, alas, there was a possibly dying man on the floor and a green dragon stuck in the door, and someone had to do something about at least one of those things. As he did not know even the first thing about healing, dragon it was. This was not the first time the ditzy green had gotten herself hopelessly stuck somewhere, Kerrin could anticipate Par'a's need for some sort of lubricant without having to hear her call for it - and having just come from working in the kitchens as he had, oil was his natural first assumption. But dang it, that could wait for another 30 seconds, surely! Talian hadn't expired just yet. "I'll get it, Par'a, just hang on Grith!" he turned to call to the pair after a long pause, because for the moment nearly all of his eager attention was currently stuck on the dramatic scene unfolding between D'ren and B'jin. Just another minute...!

"All right, going now," the weyrbrat rose from the bench, nodding his absolute determination to force himself into responsible action... but when he glanced morosely over his shoulder just one last time to see what was going on, it was just in time to see B'jin - clearly mad with lust, judging by that look in his eyes - physically shove their exalted weyrleader right in the chest. Kerrin's jaw dropped. "Why do I have to miss everything good?!" he all but screamed in dismay, clutching his head in his anguish as he abruptly leapt from the table and took off towards the kitchen before he saw anything else that would make him horribly regret his decision to help Par'a and Grith.

Tsuen felt horrible. In fact, the Weyrwoman wanted to do little more than curl up in a corner of her hut and die, only she hadn't been able to step away from the wooden bucket by her bed for more than the few moments it took her to use the latrines most of the evening prior, and again this morning. Her brown hair was pulled back in a queue to keep it out of her face, and she had done little more than lay on her bed since the whole bout started after dinner the night before. She assumed she had ended up on the wrong side of redfruit in some way or another, though usually the cooks were good to warn her when the plant that gave her such problems was in a dish.

Laying back, the woman gave a sigh of relief. It had been about a candlemark since she had last needed her bucket; it appeared this session was over. She heaved herself out of bed, scooping up the handle of the bucket and beginning the relatively short but tedious walk to the river to wash it out. Having completed that task, she swung back by the hut to drop off the bucket and then freshened up to set out for the dining hall. Nirinath was looking egg-heavy, but gladly let Tsu fly to the dining hall, short distance though it was, on account of the Weyrwoman's paleness. When queried further, Nirinath would only say she was worried about her rider.

What she saw when they landed there, however, about knocked her off Nirinath's neck. There was a green in the air, her glow clearly showing this to be the beginning of her Flight, another green wiggled, apparently stuck in the Hall's doorway, and Ronarth was staring upwards with an intensity that had Nirinath worried. Sure he wasn't weyrmated to her; that didn't mean she had no right to be jealous during the time he spent as hers. She hissed at Larrikith and Ronarth, and Grith as well, for that matter till the Weyrwoman made herself heard. First order of business is Grith. Can you pop back over to the huts and pick up the first length of rope you see? She knew that there was one normally near her hut; she kept it untied unless she had laundry to hang to dry, and it was likely that Nirinath would grab that one. The butternut was back in a flash, rope coiled over her lower jaw. Tsuen flung one end under the left side of the dragon and then crawled underneath so she was in the food hall.

When she stood, the room spun and the Weyrwoman had to grab for a table before she fell down. When she was steady again, she wound the end of the rope over the dragon's neck, so that if pulled from behind it would hook on the wings, then crawled back under the other side, rope in hand. She tied a knot in the rope under the dragon's tail, then mounted Nirinath again. Nirinath, order Grith to calm down so we can pull her out without doing any damage to her, or any further damage to the dining hall. Grith. Cease moving. This also would make ingress to and egress from the hall much, much safer, if not easier.