Cut & Burn [Allendris but Talian and Lymsleia are welcome!]

Valerian made his way from kitchen to healing hall one slow but confident step at a time, ignoring the odd looks given him as he walked by strangers he knew he would have to get to know better one day. His hunting experience hadn’t gone quite as planned, and if he wasn’t trying to soften the blow for his ego he’d admit it was a disaster, and it left him exhausted. Having spent several hours in the hot sun despite the good coverage the forest provided likely didn’t help his energy either. All he wanted was to strip off the dirty and torn clothing and soak in hot water for the exact length of time he had been out trying to provide for the nameless strangers.

Nameless strangers that had kidnapped him!

Right, there was that point. He didn’t mind his circumstance but the way he had ended up there was still a bit of an inconvenience which left him with only what he had been wearing that night and his guitar he had brought out to play around on. So his current physical state left him wondering why he had put himself through so much. True he sort of liked some of the oddball characters he had deigned worthy enough, for now, to speak to and he was adjusting to a new way of life which broke up the monotony of his old life but were these people worth the risk of his own life?

Currently, he was leaning towards the negative.

Perhaps whoever looked at his injuries would earn the weyr some points back and further urge loyalty out of him. The woman that first spotted him as he inched his way into the building was well on her way to doing just that as one glance at him had her ordering him to the room around the corner while she fetched someone to look him over. Valerian nodded, glad to have someone concerned for his well-being because surely the idiot who gave him the chore of hunting didn’t care one wit. But that brief moment of contentment faded when he rounded the turn to the room he had been sent to and saw one of the two beds already had an occupant and one he actually knew.

“Oh, it’s you,” Valerian’s voice held the usual bored tone but he managed to keep most of the weariness out of it as he looked over Allendris. He wasn’t a bad-looking man but his attitude somewhat sucked, though that was what made it entertaining to converse with him. As he moved toward the bedding, his gaze lingered a little longer on his fellow stolen candidate and noticed something a bit off, mainly, his colouring. Skin that was normally of a pale complexion looked like it was glowing a lovely shade of red and Valerian snorted, biting back a full bark of laughter as he realized the snooty man was sun burned. “Nice colour, it really suits you.”

Talian took a sip of water and rubbed his eyes for a moment. He was tired, mostly due to self-imposed excess. He'd been reading for several hours now. It wasn't anything too sophisticated, just a dated manual on dragonhealing. Talian hadn't decided if he really cared yet or not, but it was something to read...and something to read that he hadn't already read ten times before.

He couldn't blame the weyr for being short on up to date medical literature. He could blame them for plenty of other things, but if Fort's healing hall had a hard time producing something original for him to read, this damnable place sure wasn't going to. At least it was interesting. Dragons apparently worked quite different from humans.

It held his attention until he heard a soft knock on his door. "You have a patient," the girl said softly. Talian paused and set the bound papers aside, glad for a break. He rose to his feet and stretched a bit before heading off down the hall, wondering what he was going to find in that room. The weyr had proven full of surprises so far, though nothing particularly challenging had arisen.

The place was so sharding unorganized, too! He wouldn't be surprised if he showed up to find a second healer had been called as well. It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped the door lightly and stepped into the room. "Good evening. What seems to be the problem?" he asked. He paused abruptly as he looked over the other two young men, neither of whom he was familiar with. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he sensed some sort of tension, some sort of tautness in the air as if he were interrupting something.

Instinctively, he took a step backwards and nodded modestly at each of them, inviting them to do whatever it was they were doing before calling on him. He felt his cheeks heating up.

Were Allendris a more expressive or humorous man, the look that he directed at the man who first joined him in the Healing Hall might have been droll - as it was, the narrow-eyed gaze that met Valerian's apparently amused green eyes conveyed little more than an utter lack of enthusiasm or gratitude for the fellow candidate's company. He sat up in his bed and nodded curtly, obviously the kindest greeting Allendris was willing to give. Oh, he remembered this one - how could he forget? He'd been stuck on that accursed island for nearly a week with him, and despite the young harper's professed lack of interest in anything other than his guitar and naps, the other man seemed to take an almost perverse interest in his affairs. Mainly to insult him.

It seemed today would be no different.

At least this time he could understand the source of Valerian's mirth. While he had done nothing to invite the other Stolen's smart remarks before, Allendris could acknowledge that at this particular moment in time he probably looked ridiculous. He hadn't the heart to look at his face, but from what he could see of his shoulders and arms, his formerly pale skin - bared from the waist up - was as red as steamed shellfish... and he imagined the stinging pain he was feeling was more or less equivalent to being stuck in a pot of boiling water, just the same. But it hadn't been the burn or even the discomfort that had brought him here to the healers' domain - those things had been a recent discovery of just the past few minutes, when he'd awoken to find himself not toiling away in the fields through his headache and an intense wave of nausea as he last remembered, but rather tucked into this strange bed, a cool, moistened cloth balanced precariously on his forehead.

So he imagined he must have fainted away out there like a hysteria-prone Lady.

It was a predictable outcome for a high-born glass-smith's first time on the farm, to be certain. Especially when that first time came in mid-summer, when the Southern sun was at its very hottest, and he just recently displaced from Ista's reasonably chilly Northern beaches... but at all of that didn't mean that Allendris was feeling particularly keen to share the details of his failure to contribute to Katila's farmwork that day with or even in front of Valerian. Which was why he was quite glad to turn his attention away from the abrasive young man across from him towards the hesitating healer, greeting Talian with a polite nod and a pleasant smile as he gestured graciously towards the other patient.

"I believe you should tend to him first, if you don't mind my saying. He seems to have skinned his knees quite badly."

Among other areas, Valerian thought, resisting the urge to examine his forearms which would risk Allendris learning more of his injuries. Of course the doctor that seemed to almost be cowering just inside the door would point out each marking soon enough but that was different and done under medical scrutiny, not simply to find something to detract from his own state which the glass-smith was clearly doing. Instead, he took his place on the empty bed, wincing only slightly at the action causing his knees to bend more than they had since the tumble. The pain in his left leg and the darkening stain on the pant leg he hadn’t noticed until that moment indicated that there was more to it than just a skinned knee and Valerian frowned slightly. He supposed he should try to roll up the material obscuring the handiwork of his running away from a pride of felines caused.

As he attempted the feat of rolling up the snug material, a wicked thought entered his mind that Valerian believed would make Allendris blush, which would be lost in the sun burn but perhaps there would be fidgeting. No, he would hold off on stripping off his garments for a little longer just like he left off rolling up the cloth so the doctor could view him as he was and not blame him for his attempts at helping actually being a hindrance.

“Yes, do look after me first as I am much more important and deserve immediate attention.”  It was Allendris’ own fault for giving that opening and Valerian was in just the right mood to go ahead and waltz right through it, with a smug grin in place.

It only took a few moments for Talian to pick up - at least partially - on what was going on. These two were having some sort of quarrel. The snide comments were enough to give it away, but their body language only made him more certain.

Talian never knew what to make of smug boys. Most of the others at the Healer Hall he was accustomed to were somewhat intimidated by him. They knew he was an advanced student and had the eye and ear of the master crafters. In hindsight, though, he also imagined they didn't find much sport in harassing him. He was a little bit of a dud as far as victims went. Outside of the hall, aggressive people usually rolled right over Talian without him noticing.

These two didn't seem to take issue with him, so for the time being he was comfortable; even admittedly curious. That little glimmer of curiosity was quite welcome. Ever since his arrival, he'd been operating on autopilot. He followed orders and did what he needed to do, but otherwise he ambled through life as a zombie. Feeling curious again was a good sign. It was probably out of self-interest, since staying out of the middle of their bickering out be easier if he knew what was going on, but at least it was there.

There was one overriding source of curiosity, though. Those boys were around his age. They were probably in the same situation he was. That alone interested him.

"All right," he said at length, drifting forward as he carefully tied his hair into place and looked over his patient. Valerian's wounds weren't extraordinary at first glance, but they certainly needed attention. Talian managed a weak but sincere smile and approached. "Let's have a look," he said, gingerly reaching out to examine the wounds. "

He tried to ignore the banter between the two as he looked over Valerian's shredded leg. He pressed his fingers against the flesh and examined the scrapes.

“Hm,” he said after a moment. He had to clear his throat, for his soft voice was almost inaudible. “It looks like you have some grit lodged farther in. How did you do this?” he asked. He turned around and started to root around in a nearby drawer while awaiting a response.

Both brows raised high in surprise in the harper's direction, Allendris froze in mid-gesture as the full impact of Valerian's smart remark hit him - though it was less the words themselves and more than infuriatingly smug grin that had him clenching his teeth and firmly reminding himself that he was not so low as to return that volley. Much more important, indeed. Allendris drew back visibly, folding his hands in his lap lest he do something as revealing as clench his fists in his anger and incredulity at the other candidate's unusually acerbic wit. If it could be called that, anyway. Valerian clearly thought himself quite funny, but as far as the proud glass-smith was concerned, the other young man was little more than a childish slacker with a bad attitude.

As unused to being the butt of such remarks (and aggravating expressions) as Allendris was, he had somehow decided that the best way to meet them was with silence. Valerian would surely tire of it eventually. He hadn't yet, not now or in the entire week they had been acquainted as somehow the smart-mouthed harper had always done or said something to cause his composure to slip, but surely he would.

Resolute in this decision, Allendris instead turned his attention towards the healer, watching his movements with a detached interest while trying not to look too long at the slightly gruesome sight of blood and torn skin. Talian's touch appeared as soft as his voice, and Allendris could guess from his halting smiles and the long pauses between his words that he was a rather timid man. He wondered if Valerian would be able to keep his mouth shut around such a seemingly gentle personality, or if the young healer's hesitation would only further provoke his ridicule.

The glass-smith frowned. He had never met Talian, nor could he know after just a few words if his quick assessment of the healer's character was in any way accurate... but regardless, that didn't mean he cared to watch another fall victim to the hurtful remarks he was certain Valerian was already dreaming up. With a silent, mental sigh - as if giving himself up to the mercy of the cruel fates who had left him here in this room with two such men - Allendris directed a serene and obviously very insincere smile in the injured harper's direction. "Yes, how did you?"

Valerian’s gaze was on the healer but his attention remained split between the two men as he had no intentions of letting Allendris sneak in any comment that deserved some sort of reply with word or glare. But while the glass-smith likely fuming, silently of course, over allowing himself to be put in second place, a little extra attention on the man he hadn’t met before wouldn’t hurt. Except, what was there to say about the guy? He didn’t have any remarkable features though that didn’t make him unappealing to the eyes, yet Valerian knew that even his attention to details and his surroundings wouldn’t pick him out of a crowd. Then again, he wouldn’t be surprised if Talian worked at that particular skill given the way he dressed, spoke, and carried himself. It was like the man didn’t want to be seen and was only in the room because he did enjoy his profession and couldn’t let anyone injured pass him by without a thorough once over.

“I was out hunting,” Valerian answered the question and echo without hesitation since he wasn’t one to lie, although hedging the truth was sometimes unavoidable, and there wasn’t a way that he could conceive of that would make him look bad for obtaining such minor injuries while doing such a dangerous activity. “So you have me to thank for that duck you’ll be dining on later. Well, assuming you can move that far with such a well done tan.” That overexposure to the sun would be questioned soon enough but there was still a healer gently poking at his minor wounds and pointing out they were in need of a cleaning and since his well-being took priority over teasing someone, Valerian had to do some prioritizing.

“Anyway, healer, I will appreciate anything you can do for me but I generally prefer having a name to go with the hands running over my body.” He wasn’t particularly the flirty type but Valerian felt he had an eye for the type of comments that would fluster people and Talian seemed like he might run away shrieking at such a line, though it would suck if that did happen before being properly tended to.

It was a little awkward to do his work with these two taking jabs at each other, but Talian managed to retain most of his poise. He didn't want to show weakness before them.

He nodded as he dug through the drawer, looking for a particular instrument. "Hunting?" he asked in a light, conversational tone. His first instinct was to ask if the wound was caused by an animal. The presence of grit meant it almost certainly wasn't. It was more likely that Valerian had fallen down. Talian still tended to ask such questions as a precaution, but right now he sensed such tension between these two...they were jeering over their conditions already. Talian decided it best not to outright ask, since calling attention to the fact that Valerian had theoretically tripped would probably embarrass him and give the other young man more ammunition.

Nah, best not to rock the boat.

He finally found what he needed: a long, thin pair of tweezers. He picked them up and turned around just in time to blush at Valerian's comment. Talian was mostly unfamiliar with sexuality as a whole. He knew of homosexuality before coming to the weyr, but he'd never thought about it much. Here, he saw it all the time. He didn't particularly mind, but it took some getting used to. Valerian may not have meant anything by his statement, but it still caused blood to creep up into Talian's cheeks.

"Talian," he said hastily and with a coy laugh. "And you are...?" He glanced between them before maneuvering his way over to a basin of water to wash his hands. "I'm going to have to remove the gravel from your leg. It should be fairly routine," he said. He quickly washed his hands and upper arms, drying them off on his pants before walking back over to the table. He picked the tweezers up again and reached out for Valerian's leg, gently gripping it with one hand while he examined the wound for a second time.

He was displeased. He frowned sourly and narrowed his eyes, noticing for the first time just how deep the cuts were. "I'm afraid you may need stitches," he informed his patient politely. "But we'll clean it up first and then decide. How badly does it hurt?" he inquired. At least the wounds appeared fresh. He hated seeing such cuts after several days, the recipients either too busy or too rpud to seek help. They were always so much more difficult to care for when they weren't fresh!

“Valerian, Journeyman Harper,” he may have been blunt, honest, and possibly even rude, but Valerian did have manners lurking deep within and he knew how to follow protocol despite his desire to oftentimes keep personal information to himself. It was slightly at odds with his profession, just like his budding hatred of children when he was meant to embrace all of their quirks and find ways to teach them, but he had long ago accepted he could be a tad bit of a walking contradiction. Besides, even if he wanted to keep to himself, it was nearly impossible within such a small weyr with people just as curious as he was and tossed into a life he had no choice but to accept so there really wasn’t a point in evading such greetings, especially, and he hoped not, he found himself in need of Talian’s assistance again down the line.

A quick glance was given to Allendris to see what his fellow silent observer thought of his answer and what Talian had said about his wound before green eyes returned to tracking the healer’s movements. “Yes, hunting and it involved a pride of wild and hungry felines,” and that was all that needed to be said on that matter given the way he had ran from the beasts and earned his injuries, including what sounded like one that would soon be a scar. That earned a brief frown and then a shrug. It was on his leg which would be typically out of sight given his preferred attire and wouldn’t hinder his playing of instruments and likely not even impede his dancing.

“The pain is bearable since I walked from the forest to the kitchen to here though if you go poking at it too much my opinion may change,” despite his fatigue and annoyance at being dirty and bloody, Valerian was being kind in giving the warning that if Talian didn’t proceed with caution he would hear about it.

"Well, it can't be fixed without being poked at," Talian replied simply. He frowned once more, his thin eyebrows finally relaxing as he pulled back and positioned his tweezers. "If the stones stay in there, you'll get an infection even if you wash up and tend it carefully. If you get an infection in this climate, it could quickly become something worse than just a skinned knee," he cautioned. He was somewhat used to irritable patients. Most people reacted poorly to bad news, and pain had a way of exaggerating poor humors. "This will sting."

With that, he pressed the tweezers into the wound, sliding them firmly but quickly into the cut and seizing the first piece of grit. It was small, around the size of half a pinkie nail, but he was certain it felt much larger to Valerian. "I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable," he said apologetically. "I can't apply numbweed directly to an open wound, but we'll get you something to kill the pain once it's cleaned up."

He inserted the tweezers again, easily removing another piece of gravel. This one was slightly larger. He placed it on the table alongside the first and paused to wipe a bit of dripping plasma from the skin underneath the wound. After a quick once-over, Talian located a final offender, the largest yet. It gave him a moment of trouble, but he was still able to remove it skillfully and relatively quickly. "There you go..that's everything," he said.

He wiped the tweezers off and set them aside, to be washed later. He found himself wondering why a harper was out hunting. It was one of those horribly random chores, no doubt! The Weyr didn't seem to have a good grasp on who needed to be doing what! "Are those your only injuries?" Talian asked as he returned to Valerian's side. He offered the man a timid smile. "I'm afraid I'm going to need your leg back. It's time to clean it up," he said.

He glanced at Allendris over one shoulder. "I'll be with you shortly," he assured him.

The glance that Valerian sent his way was not lost on Allendris, who answered it only with a skeptical rise of both brows; other than that, his expression remained completely impassive. Valerian was thus far behaving himself, and therefore deserved no snide commentary from an uninvolved observer - though the glass-smith had quite a few questions already about how felines had come into play in the harper's duck-hunt, and why his injuries seemed more consistent with having tripped and fallen into a gravel pit rather than fighting off the ferocious beasts he claimed to have met. Despite his silence on these subjects, though, the young journeyman felt confident that his look was enough to convey each and every one of these questions to the observant harper sitting across from him.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had escaped his own assigned task without injury. If Valerian felt pressured to talk, there was a good chance his own turn would come next. Not that Allendris had a lot to say on the subject, for he didn't remember much of what had brought him here. There had been sun and heat and nausea, and then he had woken up in this bed in far more pain than he had initially bargained on when he had first received that outrageous chore assignment.

"No hurry," he answered the healer's assurances with a dismissive wave of his hand, though he found it difficult to meet Talian's eyes when any wayward glance in that direction would also mean an eyeful of the slightly greusome sight of one man fishing rocks out of another man's bloodied knee. As a glass-smith, Allendris was no stranger to blood - workplace accidents were unfortunately not unheard of, and given the materials they worked with the vast majority of them did end in scrapes or even gushing wounds of some sort. That didn't mean he had ever grown comfortable with the sight of it, however. He much preferred to have that taken care of and patched up before Talian paid any mind to his own non-traumatic and non-urgent injuries. "I fortunately did not run into any bloodthirsty felines today, so I believe this can wait."

Sometimes ballads were written with slight exaggeration to make the tale more heroic and epic or enhance the subject matter to tug at your heart either from love or sorrow but that wasn’t Valerian’s style and he wouldn’t appreciate his time in the healing hall receiving such a treatment either. To say Valerian took the removal of the grit from his wound well would leave the speaker telling fibs which, even as the subject of the ego-boosting comments, the Harper wouldn’t appreciate. He flinched when the first stone was removed but couldn’t contain the hiss that the second caused. It took a lot of willpower to not kick the healer or to pull away from the man that was only trying to do his job and ensure a proper recovery would follow. In other words, Talian had his patient’s self-preservation and fondness for himself as a whole, not with holes, to thank.

So Valerian pointed that out once the third and final stone was freed. “Sting? Shards… Aren’t healers supposed to have a gentle touch? This is decidedly lacking in gentle and you almost earned a reflective kick for your efforts,” grumbling about Talian’s faults helped keep his mind from wandering into the dangerous area of too much pain which would potentially leave him collapsing against the healer or back against the bed; either option being slightly embarrassing with Allendris in the room.

Speaking of the glass-smith, Valerian decided to use him as a further distraction from his minor surgery since it also kept his eyes from spotting the way the tweezers worked on him and the blood that coated metal and stone. His stomach wasn’t particularly weak but given his current state of being, the images were leaving him slightly queasy. “No you didn’t and it’s possibly a good thing since you seem to be a hazard to yourself. No outside help required.” He gave Allendris a small, challenging grin even as he positioned his leg once more for Talian to finish up with and lifted his arms, palms up, to show the light scratches his tumble had produced on those limbs.

Talian quirked a brow at Valerian's comments, though he kept any complaints to himself. This sort of thing happened occasionally; people would squirm and complain, taking their frustration out on their caregiver. It was only natural. Still, the mild tongue lashing agitated Talian's natural meekness.  He seemed to grow somehow smaller, his posture a bit stiffer and more compact, as if trying to remain nonthreatening. "Well," he said gently, his eyes flickering between his two patients, "There's only so much gentleness can do with something like this," he said. "I have to get in there and get it out."

With that, he started rooting about for the supplies he needed to finish mending the other man's leg. He thought for a moment that Valerian might require stitches, but with the grit removed, a simple bandage should suffice. "All right," he said as he reached for a basin of water. He had it on-hand for flushing out wounds, though it needed to be changed frequently. He much preferred using fresh water for such tasks. "I have some bad news. The last bit was lodged awfully deep, so I'm going to need to give you stitches."

He paused and slowly turned his head towards a nearby cabinet. "Would you like some painkillers before we start?" A crueler man might have been sarcastic, mocking Valerian for his poor reaction to the tweezer procedure. Talian was too gentle to mock, however. Instead of awaiting a response, he moved to another cabinet and located a small bundle of herbs. He pinched a couple leaves from them and handed them to Valerian.

"I can't put numbweed on an open wound and won't be using it at all until after the stitches are finished," he said. A nervous yet warm expression crept onto his face. "But, if you put that under your tongue for about 60 seconds, it will help. I can also get you some wine, if you like." Getting someone drunk was a great way to reduce their pain. Talian personally didn't think this situation called for it, but he was quite pain tolerant..and Valerian wasn't.

A confused expression crossed his face as felines were mentioned. Talian cocked his head towards Allendris with interest, his fingers searching through a drawer for his suture supplies. "Felines?" he asked, perplexed. "These wounds are consistent with a fall. Do you have any other injuries?" he asked, quickly looking back to Valerian.

Allendris, in turn, direction his attention back to Valerian, for the healer had confirmed his suspicions: something about this hunting story had been intentionally embellished. Or at least, some portion of the truth had been omitted in order to save some face for the storyteller. That was typical harper business, however, and given the life-threatening nature of the circumstances the glass-smith could have easily forgiven Valerian for his slightly creative reporting of the events that had brought him here to the Healing Hall... were in not for the fact that the smart-mouthed man had been joyfully needling him over his sunburn since arrival. The slight smile that crossed the young journeyman's lips was once again serene, and his voice was miraculously free of accusation or judgment when he remarked, simply, "I imagine he must've fallen when he was running from them, yes?"

After all, who was he to pretend that he wouldn't also turn tail and run from a pack of hungry felines, had it been him?

But that didn't mean the truth of the story, once revealed, didn't make him want to laugh... just a little. He managed to cover it with a cough. "I suppose I am not the only one who is a danger to himself."

Valerian suddenly found himself in a strange new position and he didn’t like it. Both men were picking on him? Since when had they decided to team up and needle him about everything that was potentially embarrassing? Actually, no, scratch that idea. Given the way Talian seemed to shrink back into himself after he was done with the clean up and earned a tongue lashing, there was no conceivable way he was saying anything malicious intentionally. The healer seemed like the sort that loved to learn, his nose in books and his social life in the negatives so he wouldn’t knowingly embarrass someone, especially a patient. In a way, the cluelessness was sort of cute.

Then what was Allendris’ excuse? Revenge, plain and simple. Given the way he took each jab like a champ which impressed Valerian, and had him continuing to tease the glass-smith because their repartee was fun, it was only natural that he would eventually land a good blow in return. So it was with only that brief gaping of the mouth at the shock of both men pointing out his flaws of the day that Valerian responded in truth and with as much dignity as he could muster while leaving himself on such display. “Yes, I fell as I made quick work of leaving the area where a pride and I were seconds away from being far too intimate for a first meeting, and no I do not have any further wounds nor do I wish to be drugged at this point in time.” Even though he had a sinking suspicion that being stitched up wasn’t going to be labelled as a fond memory and fun times.

Valerian paused only long enough to catch a breath and look over Talian yet again, fascinated how a man that held such confidence while performing his craft could simultaneously try to fade away and not have anyone converse with him or judge him. “You, however, look like you could use that glass of wine. And perhaps you have something for Allendris’ newly developed cough?”

Talian listened quietly to their exchange, noticing for the first time how subtle and yet unmistakable aggressive their comments were. Talian had a decent ear for subtle jabs, being both perceptive and well-adjusted to the bottom of the ladder. Were he more aggressive, he'd probably be quite the artist with soft spoken insults himself. They certainly came to him easily enough, but he rarely dared to speak them.

In this case, he wasn't sure whether to regard Allendris and Valerian's little contest with amusement or awkward horror. "Very well," he said, taking the herbs back and placing them in their previous container. His lips curled upwards just slightly at Valerian's next comment. "I'm not much of a drinker," he said, humor rising up in his tone as he continued his preparations. He had to admit...the joke about Allendris' cough was a little funny!

Within a few minutes, he was ready: a needle, some sinew, bandages, a damp cloth, some water, and a little bit of numbweed. He pulled a chair up beside Valerian and seated himself. "Now then," he said, "I need you to hold still. I'll get it done as quickly as possible, but it will hurt a bit," he continued as he started to flush the wound out. He needed to make sure all the debris was removed before he could safely close it.

Time for a distraction. "So, Valerian correct?" he asked. Initiating conversation was a good way to distract a patient from pain. "And your friend here is Allendris?" He'd caught the other stolen's name in passing. Then, as he spoke, he carefully pushed the needle through for the first time.

Allendris almost snorted in a strange mixture of indignation and amusement himself at Valerian's little self-defensive barb about the cough, but he was just embarrassed enough that he'd let anything slip at all - he did so hate to laugh at another's misfortune, even if that person were as unpleasant an individual as that ill-mannered harper - that he managed to keep his composure, this time. Rather than respond to it and make the Healer any more uncomfortable than he apparently already was, Allendris merely nodded to Talian's question.

"Journeyman Glass-smith," Allendris added, still apparently unused to rank and title having no meaning at the makeshift weyr. And since Valerian had already given his rank, it felt a little strange to be the only man of unknown craft in the room. "Though I wouldn't call us friends," he finished coolly.

Shards, but he was an idiot on those rare times he let pride rule him instead of commonsense. Why had he thought a sharp object piercing his skin would hurt any less than tweezers digging around in an open wound was beyond him and Valerian wished he had taken the offered herbs though there was the chance they would leave him with a fuzzy mind and he needed his wits about him to deal with these two when they set their minds against him. So, like Talian, the harper was of the opinion that distractions were a good thing because he surely couldn’t grip the bedding beneath him any harder than he already was in an effort to channel some of the pain and the urge to grumble about it. Talian’s choice of a distraction, however, was an interesting one but Valerian felt he could go with it thanks to Allendris’ quick response.

“He’s right, we’re not friends,” Valerian nearly growled the word which would have made it seem like they were the other’s sworn arch nemesis if it wasn’t for the fact the needle working its way over his wound, “we’re much closer than just friends.” They had shared the Candidate Isle together and that must have counted for some form of bonding which made his statement true but he strongly believed the other men would think he was implying something else. It mattered not that he didn’t have any sexual experience with men and had only had one night with a woman at a Gather and currently had more talk than back up. Any sputtering and wide-eyed stares he earned would be well worth placing himself in Allendris’ hypothetical bed.

Talian continued with his work, making the stitches as quickly and cleanly as possible. It was ugly business. He could remember his stomach twisting the first time he'd taken a needle to living flesh, but those days were turns behind him now. His hand, eye and stomach had become accustomed to the elastic resistance of human flesh. He was easily able to steel himself and do his work, passing the needle through his unfortunate patient's flesh again and again and pulling the sinew tight between each pass.

He paused for a fraction of a second as Valerian spoke. "...closer?" he asked.  He quickly went back to work, though his lips remained curled in bemusement. He had absolutely no idea what to think of that. All this time he thought he was sitting in between a rivalry, not a lovers' quarrel! Of course, Allendris' colder response of 'I wouldn't call us friends' suggested something else. Talian didn't take his eyes from his work to look between them, but after a moment of thought, he suspected Valerian's comment was primarily intended to embarrass Allendris.

Still, even the suggestion of homosexuality made Talian nervous and just a little bit embarrassed himself. He decided to keep talking and try to keep the conversation afloat. "They certainly seem to have an eye for all types," he said, trying to keep his voice level and gentle for the sake of his patient. He flashed Valerian a sympathetic look, for the healer's perceptive eye had noticed just how tightly his fellow stolen was gripping the table.

What to ask next? Small talk was a bit harder in a place like Katila, especially when Talian preferred to keep his own experiences out of it. If he asked them where they were from or how long ago they'd been kidnapped, they were bound to ask him the same. Oh well. Reluctant but admittedly curious, he finally cleared his throat and spoke. "I guess you two got here the same way I did, huh?"

There was more clarity and sincerity in his voice now. He wasn't putting on a polite face to do his job, but making an honest inquiry. He frowned immediately, his displeasure revealed.

---

This is set in mid summer, the same time as the Erisi thread. However, since we started this first, I'm going to assume this thread took place first, if only by a few days or so.

Allendris stared at Valerian, wide-eyed and looking positively scandalized. If he'd had any streak of melodrama about him at all his jaw probably would have been on the floor, but he didn't, and so he simply stared in his disbelief that the harper would even suggest such a thing. Wisely, he reminded himself that this was exactly the sort of the reaction the other Stolen was looking for, because Valerian couldn't seem to stand to let even 30 seconds pass without using them as another opportunity to annoy him. But did he really have to do it at the expense of their reputations?!

It was hard to tell if Talian had taken Valerian's comment seriously. The healer's slight blush and suddenly nervous disposition suggested he might have, but in either case he seemed eager to let the subject drop. Nevertheless, the glass-smith felt it safest to squash any potential rumors before they had a chance to take root. Carefully Allendris schooled his features back into neutrality, but it was through clenched teeth that he finally spoke. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he deadpanned at Valerian, and he hoped the harper would not find anything in that terse statement to use in his neverending quest to further embarrass him.

The young journeyman's relief was nearly tangible when Talian finally changed the subject, though he was surprised by both the question and the sudden earnestness in the healer's voice. Allendris had not spoken to many candidates on the subject of their kidnappings. It seemed most of them preferred to avoid the topic altogether. "If you mean you were stolen from your home by dragonriders, then yes," the smith said simply, his tone surprisingly even and free of bitterness despite the emotionally charged words he'd chosen. He just sounded... resigned.

Indeed Allendris’ reaction was worth the implication that they had slept together. The thought of that wasn’t entirely repulsive since the man was acceptable in his appearance and even personality, since he did somewhat have one buried beneath the blandness he tried to project, but Valerian still let that strand of teasing drop. It would have been busy to feign a pout at the quick denial and point out that there wasn’t a need to be ashamed of their time together but he didn’t want to travel that far down that path especially since it had served the purpose of shocking the glass-smith and playing distraction for the stitches he received. Oh, they were still noticed as it was hard to completely tune out such stabbing and tugging of already tender skin but Valerian hadn’t felt the urge to strangle or shove Talian away quite as much.

“Ditto,” was all he replied with when Talian tried to change the subject and Allendris was all too eager to help him. It seemed kidnapping was a common pastime for the dragonriders if all three of them arrived in the same manner. He was still waffling between being okay with it and finding faults in their logic and the new lifestyle but that wasn’t something Valerian felt like discussing until he had a better grasp on his emotions and knew where the others stood on the topic. Given their discomfort over his implications in sexual matters and their quickness to change topics, it was only fair he added his own distraction.

“I think I’m well patched up now. Don’t worry about the other markings. Allendris’ pretty and smooth skin,” he guessed as he had no intimate knowledge of such facts but Valerian found he couldn’t completely drop the flirtatious teasing after all, “should be examined everyone can rest well tonight knowing he won’t end up a deformed creature.”

So it wasn't the best choice of subject. It was his only idea, though.

Talian noticed and identified with Allendris' quiet resignation. Talian felt much the same these days. He'd spent his first few days in a near coma, operating by muscle memory and distant sensory input while his mind tried it's best to block out his surroundings. The day he spoke to B'jin in the dining hall marked several days of angst and bitter weeping in his room at night. Now, he didn't really have the energy to continue resisting. He knew he was doomed from the moment he was informed of his fate. Nothing changed the fact that he felt like a wretched prisoner, but his composure had improved and he was at least able to bring it up without reeking of bitterness.

Still, he frowned. He often frowned, and it wasn't befitting of his youthful face.

Valerian's response to the topic wasn't exactly bitter, but Talian's perceptive eyes senses some sort of indecision in the other young man. Sighing gently, Talian took a moment of silence as if mourning their freedom. He really despised the situation, though he lacked the will to go around showing it.  It was nice to know he wasn't the only one with reservations.

"I think you're right," he purred after a moment, pleased to see Valerian's wound stitching so well. He made the final stitch before tying it off and starting the final cleaning process, his hands moving swiftly and deftly as he did so. "I think you're going to be just fine. Don't submerge it for the next sevenday and come see me again," he instructed, dropping his previous melancholy in favor of  the gentle words of a professional healer.

He almost managed a smile at Valerian's latest quip. He suppressed it, possibly for the sake of Allendris' pride, though a hint of nervousness still remained. "Allendris, was it?" he asked, a mere formality. Talian never forgot a name. "Howe long were you out in the sunlight?" he asked, extending an open hand and nodding for Allendris to offer his own.