Accident and Emergency [Ryvian, Talian, Indivara]

With every step towards the Healer Hall, Isscer felt angrier and angrier. He was in most cases relatively calm, but the whole incident with Indivara had served to trigger a very real (and very present, to him) fear. It wasn't so much that he was angry at the girl herself, though he thought she had been out of line, more so angry at what she represented. There was no disguising the animosity between the Katilans and the Stolen Northerners, and it was dangerous because now Isscer was afraid he would become a target.

Isscer was very capable of being dismissive, which was his automatic response to just about everything; disengaging tended to work well for him, though it had earned him a reputation as cold. Isscer didn't care what others thought simply because it was what worked to keep him sane, to keep him from going and doing something rash. But Indivara had not given him a chance, pushing the matter via violence, and Isscer was afraid.

She surely had friends in the Weyr, being weyrbred. The boy she'd dragged with her was just one, and Isscer hadn't forgotten his earlier words. Thank Faranath that Isscer hadn't hit her; at least that could be a saving grace should anyone want to avenge Indivara's honor. Despite all the rationalization, Isscer was afraid; his hands shook, stomach nauseous and unsettled. If she and the other Southerners wanted to get back at him, who would stop them? He was just a man who worked with the grain crops who sometimes served as a Candidate--an unhappy man, but more than willing to keep his nose out of Weyr business if it meant saving his own skin.

At least his nose had stopped bleeding on the walk over, rusty brown dried blood smeared down his tunic and over his chin and mouth. Isscer hadn't seen himself, but he felt terrible; at least some numbweed would dull the pain. He stepped into the Healer Hall, peering around for someone who could assist him. "Hello?" His voice sounded ridiculous, what with his nose being blocked, but there wasn't anything he could do about how pathetic he sounded. "A little help, please?"

Talian wasn't exactly pleased with being told what to do, but he couldn't stay angry long once he learned the reason why. If someone needed medical attention, he wasn't going to turn them away, even if the alert did some someone the young man feared and despised. It was fortunate timing too, for he'd only just arrived at the hall to begin a volunteer shift. His lessons had slowed down and Khaduceth was big enough to tend to himself for the most part, giving Talian a little bit more free time. What better way to spend it than working?

He frowned as he stepped into the lobby. He was dressed in his trademark brown clothes and headband, with Fellis nestled sweetly on his shoulder. Then Isscer came in, Talian was surprised by two things: the fact that at least one of the injured parties was familiar and the fact that he seemed to have a broken nose. The healer hadn't know what he was dealing with from the start, and it was already proving more than he'd expected.

"Isscer?" Talian asked, lifting a brow and walking forward urgently. "Come along, let's get this tended to." A broken nose was routine enough. Talian was sure he could fix him up in no time, but he was more curious than he should have been, and maybe a little worried. He knew that he and Isscer shared the same sentiments towards the Weyr, though they hadn't spoken much (if at all) since Khaduceth's appearance. Talian assumed he was being avoided...he was a traitor, after all.

Indivara gave Ryvian an irritable look when he mumbled about stepping up against S’kef, and she tenderly touched at her jawline with her fingertips, the touch gingery and blue eyes wide albeit determined as she tried to figure out how much damage he had done to her. Indivara had a body that liked to betray her; always sick, and with bones happy to break, she was mostly anxious about making sure the man hadn’t broken her jaw. The fact that she had spoken a moment ago was easily waved away by the girl’s own thought process; the adrenaline was wearing off and Faranth her jaw hurt!

A harsh snort of laughter was given when Ryvian swore, blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she flicked him a sideways glance, shaking her head slightly but stopping swiftly when that didn’t feel too good. Her stomach was still threatening to rise up again and Indivara knew that would be unpleasant. Puking was awful on the best of days, but she certainly didn’t want to try it with the agony her jaw was in. Fuck, but S’kef could pack a punch, and he hadn’t even been trying! Indivara knew that. S’kef was a big man, especially compared to her, and she was pretty sure she’d seen him deck someone before, and she’d definitely seen what he could do in flightlust or with a whip. The thump to her jaw had been nothing more than a swipe at an annoyance... and it was that, more than anything, that pissed off Indivara.

Indivara grunted with a filthy look at Isscer’s back as the boy skirted them and made his way swiftly to the Healer Hall, arriving well before them. Indivara wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go. Healer Hall was worse than crèche, and Indivara hated being trapped in it. It smelled of medical plants and sickness and more medical plants, and all that klah that Talian drank like a freaking addict.  The girl whined under her breath halfheartedly when Ryvian took her hand once more and began dragging her towards the Hall, Indivara’s eyes watering when she had to trot a few steps to catch up, the faster pace causing nerves to explode in a rainbow of pain and she stumbled against Ryvian before keeping pace with him.

Indivara allowed Ryvian to lead the way into the Hall, and the girl waved vaguely to the woman behind the reception area, who peered over her papers at Indivara and rolled her eyes dramatically. The girl would have grinned, but she was quite sure that would not have been a good idea. The woman had been putting up with her odd visits and disastrous appearances since before Indivara could remember. The fact that the woman hated B’jin only made her that much cooler in Indivara’s mind and she held up her hand – the one clasped in Ryvian’s – and gave the woman a thumbs up. She shook her head and went back to her papers, using the end of her pen to point towards where Talian was.

Stepping forward, Indivara tugged lightly on Ryvian’s hand and lead them the familiar path toward Talian’s office, the girl bumping the door open with a hip so she didn’t have to use her sore hand (which was still cradled protectively against her chest) and sparkling blue eyes sought out Talian as she entered, barely taking a moment to flicker to Isscer – the northerner was pointedly ignored. Joined hands again rose in a playful wave and the girl dragged Ryvian over to the far table. She eyed it irritably for a moment, before leaning against it lazily. The height was enough that Indivara knew she wouldn’t be able to gracefully climb atop it, and she wasn’t in the mood to flail around like a fool. Bouncing up would hurt far too much.

With one hand held in Ryvian’s, and one hand curled gently against her chest, Indivara had nothing to poke at her jaw with. So she took to using her tongue and shifting the joint carefully with slow movements, her features warping every time she hit a particularly painful combination, but not stopping. Waiting was boring and Talian would pump her full of drugs soon, anyway. Blood Sucker, who had landed on her shoulder just prior to coming inside, chittered softly in her ear, blue tail wrapped lightly around her neck and eyes swirling with anxiety. Psh had remained with Krypth, the little gold firelizard unable to handle the situation her human was in and not wanting to be scolded by Blood.

Ryvian glared daggers at Isscer when he saw the fool was already getting looked after by Talian. The man didn’t deserve that much attention! He didn’t say anything about it however, partly due to picking up on Indivara’s interest in ignoring Isscer and partly because he was still baffled over the way Indivara wouldn’t let go of his hand. The joint wave made him smile thanks to his imagination coming up with ideas as to why they were joined at the palm. A freak glue accident? A tailor stitched them together? Light rope bound them and they didn’t know how to untie that particular knot used? He was just being silly and knew it but it helped ease any worry he had over his friend so he didn’t look like a complete basket case in front of everyone. It was best to remain cool at all times!

Belatedly he wondered what happed to Tryst but figured his prissy little blue was still taking up residence on or around Krypth to watch the Touching as well as keep Psh company. He was fond of the gold and would spend as much time as possible around her when he could. Ryvian mentally rolled his eyes at his flitter who probably entertained lofty goals of mating with Psh. Then again, Tryst could easily think the same about his goals with Indivara. They both currently seemed to be doomed to failure with the females in their lives! Ryvian, at least, was content with the friendship he had and knew Indivara fairly well – which meant what he was about to do would likely earn him a foot to the shin soon.

Taking advantage of their difference in height and his slight muscle against her light weight, Ryvian shook his hand free of Indivara’s – which proved they weren’t bound forever in one of his crazy ways – to place both of his hands on Indivara’s waist and lift her up to sit her on the table. Quickly Ryvian stepped to the side which he hoped was out of kicking range and grabbed her hand once again to show a solid alliance between them as they waited for Talian to examine Indivara.

Indivara likely would have landed a solid kick in Ryvian’s person, had her eyes not almost popped out of her face in surprise when he picked her up lightly to place her on the edge of the bench. The fact that he’d wriggled his hand free moments before had been ignored by Indivara, who  had mostly forgotten their hands were even joined by that point, her attention mostly on her jaw and how much it currently hurt if she twisted it just so… Being set gently on the bench had Indivara’s wide blue eyes turn to look at Ryvian in shock, before her eyebrows pulled together and she scowled at him irritably.

There was a promise of revenge in lofty blue eyes as she allowed him to hold her hand once more, a low ‘hrmph!’ whispering past lips that were not keen on moving too much and Indivara was inadvertently reminded of the duration of time some two turns prior when her face was being stitched back into proper shape. A time when scars were forming and the disgusting amount of pain she’d been in during the entire process. She’d been on a lot of pain killers, then! Her tender hand left her chest to trace gently over the scarring under her left eye, trailing down and ending just above the curve of her jawline, under her lips and to the side of her chin. A shudder travelled the girl’s spine, and she lowered her hand carefully into her lap.

At least this time nothing was broken! Not skin, nor bone. None of her teeth were missing (praise be!) and while she was quite sure she’d be in more than a small amount of pain for a while, nothing major would result from the blow S’kef had dealt her. The upset rolling of her tummy was not reassuring, however, and Indivara’s face twisted slightly into an expression of mild anxiety. She did not like the idea of having to puke while her jaw was so damned sore! Being sick was more than enough pain all of its own; a damaged jaw in the mix was not appealing in the slightest!

Talian mumbled to himself as he set to work on Isscer's nose. "There's no need to be overly alarmed by this," he said as he gathered the necessary supplies to numb and clean the wound. "Noses break easily, but they set and heal just as well. If you take care not to bump or prod it, it will set up and heal just fine," he assured the other young man. He kept his voice even and neutral, though naturally he was curious as to what happened.

The answer wasn't long coming. In came Ryvian and Indivara, the first packing an attitude and the latter nursing some snort of blunt-force trauma. Tal glanced over it, and once he'd deemed that it was less serious than Isscer's nose-break, he promptly ignored her. It didn't take a genius to pick up on what had happened, though without any blatant comments about S'kef, he could only assume that Isscer was the one who struck Indivara.

Tal wasn't one for bashing women, but by the egg, was it time someone shut that girl up. She was a beast, and while Tal would never actually compromise medical care for someone he didn't care for personally, he was more than content to let her sit there and wait while he repaired the damage she'd done. Once that was done, he would take care what what she'd undoubtedly brought on herself.

"This will only take a few minutes," Tal promised them all, turning to hastily get back to work on Isscer. "I need you to hold still for me while I set it. The numbweed will take care of the pain," he said. He made short work of it before eyeing the other two, studying them for only a few seconds before taking a slow step over to Indivara. He held his hands out to run along her jaws, not bothering to ask permission.

"Let's see what we have here...I just needed to make sure nothing's cracked and that all your teeth are there...otherwise, a little fellis juice and maybe some compression and you should be fine..."

Yes, he was curious...but no, he had no intentions of actually asking.  Stupid people.

"

Of course the two cry baby Northerners were best friends. It shouldn’t have surprised Ryvian that Talian would tend to the jerk’s nose before anything else. They’d probably blow each other afterwards to congratulate themselves on harming and ignoring ‘brats. Ryvian continue to glare but this time it was sent to Talian’s back. He was normally far kinder than his current thoughts would have someone believe and it was only because of that nature that Ryvian hesitated in following through with a comment and action. On the tip of his tongue was the insult to go find a real Healer and do exactly that with or without Indivara in tow. He ended up taking too long to decide, though, and little perfect Master Healer deemed them worthy enough of his time finally.

Ryvian shuffled a little more out of the way to make sure he wasn’t hindering the healing in any way. It was hard to say what exactly happened next or what prompted it. All Ryvian knew was that he was glad he did that shuffling. Whether it was from hands that had just been on a bloody broken nose now on her face or the jolt of pain caused by those prodding fingers, he didn’t know, but all he knew was Indivara was suddenly retching and Talian was lined up perfectly. In the few seconds it had taken for the so-called examination and Talian to give his treatment and prognosis, Ryvian was again debating the desire to find another Healer that might actually do something for his patient. Of course he had no idea what could be done for a punch to the jaw but he was certain better bedside manners was a good start! Again, however, he didn’t have the chance as Indivara reacted to whatever it was that triggered her.

To keep his own lunch down, Ryvian ended up having to look just to the right of Indivara with shallow breaths. He wasn’t exactly known for that whole chain reaction response but he didn’t want to chance it then! Indivara had reason to vomit in front of the jerks they were dealing with but he would look weak in front of them, and more importantly, in front of his friend. They may have grown up together and knew each other far too well, but that still didn’t mean Ryvian needed to add to the list of embarrassing moments!

“Add a towel to the list of things you’re giving her and I won’t tell the Weyr how ill-mannered you were to a patient in need.” It wasn’t exactly blackmail but Ryvian lacked in experience for being overtly rude and angry. It was the best he could do given all the circumstances.

---

ooc: Permission to power play Indivara was pre-approved.

"Whoops!"

Tal wasn't sure what tipped him off. Maybe it was the look in Indivara's eyes, or a sudden shudder in her lithe form. Something warned him though, and he was able to sidestep just in time to avoid being covered in vomit; mostly. There was a bit on his sleeve, but whatever. He'd been covered in worse. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, one hand resting very lightly on the girl's arm while he considered what had just happened. The situation suddenly seemed much more serious.

What could cause something like that? He lifted a brow and looked her over thoughtfully, ignoring Ryvian's shitty attitude problem while he considered the girl's sudden illness. "That's odd," he said slowly. He lifted one hand and placed it lightly on her forehead. Felt fine.

He supposed it could be due to trauma. "It's likely nothing to worry about. Sometimes people get sick from stress," he said as he moved across the room to gather some herbs from a drawer. They would settler her stomach if steeped in hot water, assuming it was just a run of the mill stomach ache. "But you hardly seem the type, and your wounds don't seem severe enough...and even if you were going to vomit from stress, it seems like you would have right after you were struck."  No one had told him she'd been struck, but once again...it didn't take a genius.

He grabbed a rag and wiped off the table, then handed her the herbs. "Have you been dizzy lately? Nauseous or loss of appetite?" he inquired, placing the herbs beside her and motioning for her to take them.  He spoke softly and in a very calm and detached tone, crisp but quick. He wanted to get it over with, but that didn't mean he wanted to rush it. He may have found both of them loathsome, but he was a healer and she was sick...if he was going to be stuck tending to J'ver and S'kef of all people, he could deal with these people. He reminded himself offhandedly that they'd probably had a bad day. He was grouchy on bad days, too.

He touched one thin finger to his chin and awaited a response. The questions were very general, but they would be helpful in narrowing down the causes. "Those herbs should settle your stomach. Steep them in hot water and have it with food. If they don't work, come back and see me again." He paused, and pursed his lips. "Is there any chance that you're pregnant, or that you had something bad to eat?" The questions were mostly formalities, and a 'yes' on either count would have surprised him.

He just shrugged, then took a step back. He retrieved the numbweed he'd used on Isscer and moved in to lightly dab it on her jaw. "...I can get you an ointment for that bruise as well, but unless you're worried about cosmetics, it's pretty useless...A lot of people ask for it, but it's pretty unnecessary. Just numbweed should do the trick..."

Now that business was done, he finally turned his eyes on Ryvian, almost dismissively. "And I think you mistake triage for an ill temper," he said calmly. "A more serious injury gets treatment first, and in the case of similar injuries, the first to arrive gets treatment first." And that was that.

He's free to tell just the same. No one will contradict you Khaduceth said with a hint of annoyance. Tal ignored him, though he appreciated the defense. He was uninterested in starting a feud with Ryvian. He was well past wanting to pick fights and debates, and he was just as happy to be the more mature person and ignore the bitchy comments. "Now, do you need anything else?" His attention was on Indivara again. He would wait for them to go before finishing up with Isscer.

The tension in the room was nigh unbearable; Isscer shrunk in on himself momentarily but was forced to straighten when Talian approached. They knew one another, but they had never been particularly close; Isscer had made a habit of not becoming particularly close to anyone, really. He had not been happy when Talian had Impressed, viewing it as a betrayal, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

The numbweed removed some of the ache, but Isscer was careful not to move. It became harder as he fought the urge to scowl; the two weyrbrats were just like every other Southerner: rude to a fault. Admittedly, Isscer had not expected S'kef to get violent with Indivara, but a punch to the face was nowhere near as bad as a broken nose.

More so than anything else, Isscer just desperately wanted them to leave. He was afraid of Indivara and Ryvain both, knowing that they were surely more well-liked than he was, and fearing that they would seek revenge. Isscer did not want to cause more problems for himself by aggravating an already tense situation, but there wasn't much he could really do about it. If they wanted to find him, they knew where he was--Katila wasn't so large that he could hide--and they surely had the friends to gang up on him as well.

As such he was content to keep quiet, though he alternated between watching Talian lay down the ground rules and glaring at the pair of weyrbrats. Ha, serves them right! I suppose Talian hasn't changed so much after all...

Indivara glared daggers at Talian, her nose curling up in a sneer as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Let’s touch your tender face with bloody hands and see if you don’t puke.” She snarled, spitting on the floor with very little regard for who had to clean up the mess; it was already covered in puke, who cared about a bit of extra spit? She wiped her mouth again, nose and upper lip still crumpled with disdain. Between her own simmering attitude, and the way she could practically feel the rage boiling off Ryvian, any quips about Talian’s face not being tender would swiftly be altered.

“I have a cold,” Indivara snapped, snatching the herbs without any real desire to take them at all. She’d throw them on the counter where her mother would pick them up with an eye roll and put them beside the fire for Indivara to use when she boiled water that they both knew she’d never boil, mix or drink. She was sure there were still stupid herbs and other crap in the cupboard from when Hoth had had a party on her face. “About as much chance of you being pregnant,” she quipped, poking Talian in the stomach with the toes of her right foot, the jab a bit harder than was required, just to prove her point. While she didn’t sleep with any fo her friends, those she did sleep with were usually wise enough to offer her a trip between before she had to ask. In retrospect, Indivara supposed she should probably be insulted by that.

Figuring Talian was done with her when he shrugged, Indivara slid across the table to be closer to Ryvian and detangled their hands so she could hook her arm around his neck, indicating quite clearly that since he’d put her on the table, he would be used as a hand rail in the process of getting down. She paused, however, her face turned to Ryvian when Talian spoke, every emotion under the sun playing clearly across her face for her friend to read before she turned to Talian with a cold, hard glare and frosty eyes. “Go fuck yourself.” It was barely a whisper, the words trembling with rage as Indivara glared glassily at Talian for a moment, then used Ryvian’s body to slide off the table and she stalked out of the building, slamming the door as hard as she could but otherwise completely ignoring the lot of them.

Ryvian was bristling. He had never minded Talian before. While he couldn’t fully understand why anyone would hate Katila with how they had dragons milling about them all the time, Ryvian did his best to at least realise the new people weren’t here willingly and they had lost something in the North. It was why he had never truly risen to the bait so many of the Stolen tossed out in order to have a fight whether it be verbal or physical. Surely he would have felt the same if the roles were reversed, especially if he was taken away from Nyvian. That thought alone was enough to turn his mood sour.

“Bull, healer boy, and you know it. You didn’t even look her way when we entered so you had no idea what was wrong or was worse. Just because you have a stupid title attached to your name, you think you can get away with everything? Not all of us are blind to your mumbling ways.” Talian had always been loud in his hatred of Katila and Ryvian tuned it out and while the young Healer likely didn’t mean to treat the Northerner purposely before Indivara out of spite and anger both Indivara and him in the process, Ryvian couldn’t help but think Talian had done so all the same. If they had beat the little cry baby to the Hall, would Talian have ditched what he was doing to help with a broken nose? It wasn’t like a few minutes would make a difference. In fact, Ryvian was certain a new nose would help Isscer.

Indivara first using him as a crutch to get off the table and then storming out of the room was very in character for her but it still surprised Ryvian. He thought he would be the one dragging her away from the men before she was ready to leave the growing fight. Ryvian even suspected she would pull him away before he swung at Talian – something they both knew would only damage the twin’s hand and reputation more than it would hurt the Healer in any way. Indivara had the right of it though – it was clearly the right time to leave. He eyed the doorway his friend had stomped her way through but before Ryvian followed, he had to get one more comment in against Talian.

“If they don’t work, come back and see you again? Why, so you can give her a stronger dose of poison?” Ryvian glared at the Healer and then opened his mouth again to say something he would possibly regret later, “I’m going to make sure she doesn’t take what you gave her since it’s likely your favourite substance of tansy and I like my friends alive.” Not giving Talian a chance to respond, Ryvian brushed by, resisting the urge to shoulder check him and stormed out of the room as well. Isscer had been forgotten thanks to Talian’s attitude and odd questions. Indivara pregnant? Like that would ever happen!

"Very well," Talian replied as Indivara poked at him with her foot. It was a little rougher than he expected, but he was indifferent to such things by now. Patients had done far worse things to him, including biting and intentional, premeditated urination; a little kick was nothing! He then watched passively as she snatched the herbs and rose to her feet, naturally gravitating towards her annoying and obvious dim-witted friend.

Tal didn't necessarily have anything against Ryvian either, and he chose to interpret the man's terrible attitude as a cranky mood after a bad day. He certainly wasn't intimidating. After Tal's run-in with J'ver, he didn't think there was much the damn Katilans could do to him. He even smiled as Ryvian rebutted his comment, distantly amused by the level of willful ignorance that such accusations would require.

"Suit yourself," he replied, though he wasn't sure that  either of them heard. If they didn't want to use the drugs, that was their problem. It was a shame, though. The girl must have been in pain, and Tal thought that Nyvian was pretty friendly and pleasant! Not so identical after all, else that or it was a bad day indeed!

"I gave up arguing with those types a long time ago. Don't let them get under your skin too much," he advised Isscer as the Katilan pair took off. The healer sucked in a deep breath and walked back to the other young man, intent on giving his nose one more look-over. "I'd chalk it up to stress. Something like that would have upset me horribly this time last year, and I'd have been beating myself up for days over it," he said with a healthy dose of grim humor. "But it's not worth it."

They are not worth it Khaduceth commented in a similar tone. The pair had a silent chuckle together. Sure, it was a little mean spirited, but Talian always appreciated the vote of confidence. He had Khaduceth to thank for much of it, but as the dragon himself would certainly have pointed out, not all of it.

It was a relief to not get so worked up over things anymore. Talian felt strong.

The healer eventually looked back to Isscer with a modest smile. "Can  I do anything else for you?"

The smell of vomit, sour and pungent, very nearly made Isscer's stomach churn as well. He frowned, watching the scene with Indivara and Talian unfold with the same acute sense of helplessness he had felt earlier. He couldn't help his fellow Northerner, as he was paralyzed by his own sense of fear and therefore unable to do anything; the thought made the Farmcrafter feel horrible.

Isscer wasn't one for arguing anyway, proving to be more passive that driven by action; he had considered trying to escape once, but had never had the gall to try it. Talian had--everyone knew that--and already that made him something of a hero to Isscer. The Farmcrafter valued personal morals, and following through with one's choices was a mark of an honest man. If anyone could understand how demoralizing it was to Stand for clutch after clutch, how horrible it was to be taken from everything they had ever held dear, it was Talian.

But Talian had Impressed.

Isscer had been there, and had never forgotten the sense of betrayal. When the Southerners Impressed it was expected, but when a Northerner Impressed everyone knew about it. Talian had been a kindred spirit, and yet he had betrayed the commonly-held belief in returning home when he had Impressed his brown. Isscer had lost a friend, and although they had never been particularly close, he had considered the Master Healer a friend due to shared values.

He held still as Talian examined him yet again, face eventually falling when the Master Healer stepped back. "It's hard. You know that." Isscer looked away, mouth twisting into a frown as he continued. "They hate us for being selected, but don't seem to realize that many of us didn't even want to be selected in the first place." A wry, bitter laugh, and Isscer shook his head at the Healer's question. "No. I'm all worked up--there's another clutch on the Sands. You never know when your dragon will show up, or so I've heard."

In truth he was afraid, so afraid it was nearly paralyzing, but Isscer wasn't about to say so. Instead he moved to grab an empty bowl and a cloth, moving to busy himself with cleaning up the sick. "She ought to be ashamed, doing something like this, but S'kef hit her good and that didn't seem to faze her in the slightest." He shot Talian a look, soggy rag in hand, tone and expression betraying his anxiety. "Did you have a suspicion that you were about to Impress when you stood the last time?"

"I agree," T'lian said softly, backing away from Isscer and seating himself on a nearby stool. "It's very hard." There was a hint of a sour note in his voice as his mind crept back to it's earlier days at Katila, with all their misery and loneliness. It wasn't a good place to be and certainly not something the young man enjoyed lingering on, but it was something he refused to let himself forget. He didn't want to be a betrayer, or a collaborator, or even insensitive. He remembered how difficult it had been for him, and how without B'jin or V'ler he might not have made it.

He shuddered to think about it now. That escape had seemed like the only possibility at the time. There were still days that he almost wished he'd succeeded, but for the most part, he breathed a sigh of relief every time he thought about it and reminded himself that he was alive and well today.

"Most of them don't understand why we didn't want to be selected. They grew up in this weird hideaway culture that values dragons above all else. I don't think we make much sense to them," he said with a lopsided, sarcastic smile. He almost felt bad for them. They had no concept of the wider world, and everything they did led towards that ultimate goal of being a dragonrider. It must have sucked to see unwilling candidates Impress instead, but more than anything he pitied how some of them wouldn't ever find their dragon. Poor fools.

As much as he still resented the leadership, he did figure Khaduceth was worth it in the long run. But that didn't mean the outcome would be the same for everyone else, and he knew how annoying it was to hear 'you'll see one day'. The same principle applied to unlucky northerners as it did to the Katilan-born; some of them never would know that bond. They will have lost turns of their lives for nothing.

It just sucked. T'lian could only hope that in some small way, he could help. After all, a lot of small acts added up for him.

He shrugged at the comment on Indivara. "I'm not too surprised. She acts like nothing fazes her.  Either it doesn't and she's exceptionally strong, or it does and she likes to hide it or mask it with anger," he replied gently. In that girl's case, going by his limited interactions with her, he was inclined to think it was a little bit of both? He wasn't even going to try and figure it out. It was what it was!

The next question caught his attention. He frowned a little, worried at the implications. "I could," he muttered. "I could almost feel it in my bones. It made me sick at night." He felt Khaduceth nudge against his mind, reassuring him. The brown still believed with all of his heart that he had saved the boy, but he didn't expect or even prefer T'lian to agree. The young man smiled at the gentle show of affection and looked back to Isscer. "That is what they say. About dragons showing up at any time, I mean. I'm not sure how much stock  I take in it, but I guess it really did feel that way to me. " He sighed a little, suspecting that any positive talk about Khaduceth might offend Isscer, who had always been awkward with him since thew hatching.

T'lian could remember feeling that way about Veeth. He regretted it now, but at the time he felt like he was protecting himself. What could he do about this?

He bit his lip. "....Would you...like to meet Khaduceth?" he asked. He realized quite suddenly that he sounded no better than B'jin had sounded harping on about Larrikith. "...I'm not trying to win you over, I swear! I just..want to..."

Prove to him that I haven't changed you. The brown's choice of words was simple, but elegant. It brought a smile to T'lian's face. "...I want you to see that he's not changed me," he said, repeating the dragon's phrasing and offering a silent thanks. Khaduceth was pleased. All that time watching people wasn't wasted after all!

Perhaps it was true that the Weyrbred were raised in such a way that there could be no understanding between them and the Stolen. Isscer didn't doubt that; the Southerners praised dragons in a way that was not done in the North--dragons were a myth there, having faded away--and the values truly were different. Despite recognizing this, Isscer didn't see how differing values made the ill treatment of the Stolen by the weyrbrats permissible--he would never understand that.

But perhaps their jealousy over the Northerners Impressing was valid; Talian was one example of an unwilling Candidate being chosen over the scores of weyrbrats. Isscer had to look away from Talian as he spoke about the feeling he had felt before Standing the last time; he turned his attention back to his task of gathering the sick into the bowl, afraid to let Talian see the naked distress writ plain across his features. He very carefully said nothing, but it wouldn't have mattered--Isscer couldn't speak, couldn't express how terrified he was of Impression, of that change that would change everything forever. He got to his feet, setting the bowl aside before scrubbing his hands clean in a nearby bowl of water.

The mention of Khaduceth made Isscer whip around so quickly that he nearly dropped the towel he was using to dry his hands. They shook so badly with fear that he had to cross his arms, tucking them close to his body so Talian couldn't see how badly he was affected. As it was, Isscer was stunned. No one had ever offered to introduce him to a dragon; no one had ever put it so nicely, or had cared to do so. "I--I," Isscer fumbled, falling quiet as he simply stared at Talian.

I want you to see that he's not changed me.

The words rattled around in the Farmcrafter's head; he couldn't find the words to say, grasping at so many straws and none of them suitable. No one had ever made the gesture, no one had ever bothered to try to show him that not all dragons were terrible. "I don't know what to say," Isscer managed after a long silence, mouth quirking into a fake smile for a brief moment before it fell away. "No one's ever asked me that before." He was torn; Talian was a kindred spirit, someone who understood, but Isscer had been so quick to shove him in with the other dragonriders after his Impression to Khaduceth that he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry for, you know, being distant." They had not been such close friends before, not to the level of Valerian and Erisi, but there had been a level of understanding there. Isscer had done what he did best when Talian had Impressed: avoided him like he had the Plague, and had written Talian off as one of them. That Talian now was trying to offer him something to restore peace when it wasn't his fault... Isscer was so ashamed. "I just--" Isscer took a deep breath, expelling it in a rush, trying to calm down. "It's so much easier when there is a you and a them. Easier to deal with everything: the Hatchings, the expectations, the fear that you'll become one of them."

The Farmcrafter was shaking from head to foot now, knees knocking together, but now that he had begun speaking it had to be finished. "I'm not trying to justify it because I know I've done you wrong, but you need to understand. Six years of being in this place, and every Hatching I fear that it will be the one. What dragon would possibly want me? I don't even know if I could love it." Isscer caught Talian's eye, intent on making one thing clear. "I never meant to hurt you. I just was trying to protect myself, and that's gotten me nowhere. We could have been such good friends, and I've single-handedly ruined it." Isscer shook his head, despairing, angry at himself. "And now you want me to meet Khaduceth like nothing has ever happened, and I feel terrible because I've alienated you. You should resent me because of it, not be offering to introduce me to your dragon."

T'lian watched quietly as Isscer struggled to find an appropriate reaction to the healer's question. T'lian was patient.  Once again, he understood. He remained silent, watching modestly but hopefully, his eyes glazing over with sad nostalgia as he considered the situation Isscer was in.

I'm sorry for, you know, being distant

How familiar that sounded. T'lian closed his eyes and stifled a bitter grin. "I understand," he replied. He understood all too well. He could remember doing not the exact same thing, but something regrettably similar with his friend V'ler. Tal hadn't avoided the man after his Impression, but Veeth surely intimidated him, and it took a long time for the three to work out an understanding that would allow him to truly be close to his best friend again. Veeth was a sweet creature who didn't deserve T'lian's fear, but he hadn't known any better. It was fine now, but they'd lost time, and time was something that could never be recovered.

Like all of his mistakes, he sincerely hoped he could prevent someone else from repeating it.

He didn't elaborate on any of this, but the look in his eyes betrayed just how deep that note rang with him. Eventually, his distant and concerned expression softened just enough to allow a smile.

"Don't act so nervous," he said. "I get it. I really do...I wasn't sure what to do about it, either." He remembered being on the sands and flipping through the laundry list of anti-dragonet plans in his head, including intentionally broadcasting vivid images of his suicide attempt. Sometimes he wondered if that attracted Khaduceth. He imagined he would never know, but he did know that he loved the damn dragon right away, and there was nothing he could do about it. How could he say that to Isscer, though?

"And it's fine," he added after a lengthy pause, his voice and mannerisms alike rather stiff, but not insincere. T'lian was an emotional person, but also very closed off from most people.  He only showed his more vivid emotions to the closest people in his life, but that didn't mean he wished to brush Isscer aside. He agreed with one thing, and that was their shared experiences and potential to be friends. He often wished he had more friends, and he regretted alienating the ones he'd chased away with his strange combination of neediness and distance.

He realized he'd been awkwardly quiet for a rather long time.  He looked up from his lap, eyes suddenly wide with regret. "I'm...! I'm sorry. No, you don't have to be sorry...Just um, come on." He rose to his feet, instantly feeling foolish. Still, he managed a much warmer smile for the other man this time, softer and more relaxed and empathetic. "Don't worry about it, okay? I really do get it. I...did it, too. It's a mess, and it's...Eh, just come on! I suck at talking..." He motioned for Isscer to follow, then headed for the door. A sharp whistle called Fellis to his shoulder, and outside Khaduceth waited with curiosity.

I really, really suck at talking

I guess it's out of the klah pot and into the fire. Isscer could only stare, momentarily dumb-founded, at Talian when he made it clear he wanted the Farmcrafter to follow him. A part of Isscer knew where they were going--to meet Khaduceth--but the hesitant part of him was trying to play it off as a simple "Come on, let's get out of here". Isscer wasn't sure whether he wanted to meet the brown or not--if he did, how could he possibly stick to his 'avoid all dragons at all times' agenda? Would Khaduceth expect him to be friendly all the time?

Despite his own misgivings, Isscer knew it would be rude to just run away. He was invested in repairing his strained relationship with Talian, and to do so meant that he would eventually have to meet Khaduceth. One couldn't divide the dragon from their rider, no matter how hard they wanted to, after all! Still, actions were easier than words and Isscer could respect that as well; he didn't think that Talian was trying to force him into anything, just trying to make the best out of the situation that he could.

Try as he might, Isscer was afraid that the dragon had changed Talian. Fear of Impression was not solely a fear of a dragon for him, but a fear of change. He was fine with his life as a Crafter, but what would happen on the off-chance that a dragon would choose him for a Bonded? There was no way of knowing, but Isscer feared that acquiring a dragonet life-partner would result in his having to change, having to give up his dreams of attaining Senior Journeyman status. It had been all he had ever wanted for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't bear the notion of having to give his dream up.

Isscer followed obediently, afraid of what waited outside and yet knowing that it had to be endured if there was any chance of proving that he was sincere. Talian deserved as such, and Isscer would just have to swallow his fear and pride to get through it.

Talian had his own string of strange, misgiving thoughts going through his head as they worked their way through the halls, eventually emerging outside where Khaduceth waited for them. The brown dragon was curled up outside, eyes flashing with curiosity. He lowered his head and intrusively poked his nose towards Isscer, nostrils quivering as he sniffed the young man over.

This is the one you are so worried about impressing? the dragon asked, unimpressed. He couldn't imagine why Tal wanted the boy's approval so badly, but whatever. It was different from Talian's kinship with, say, Valerian. It wasn't so much love as it was empathy. This boy reminded Tal of himself, and just as he'd wanted things to work out well in his own case, he hoped they would for Isscer as well. The dragon supposed he could concede to that, but he still failed to see how it was so important. Whatever is important to you if important to me he assured Tal when he sensed the disapproval.

You're being an asshole again Tal said pointedly, not letting it drop. A burst of amused love came from the dragon, but Tal could still tell that his scolding was effective. Sorry

Khaduceth continued to sniff, before finally pulling back, leaving his nose in petting range if Isscer would be so kind. Tal smirked and then stepped closer, running his hand along the dragon's snout. "He's huge. I wish he'd stop growing," he lamented softly. "..But you should hear him. Every time we go flying, he complains that  I would be better off here doing what I want to do...the only thing in the world he cares about is me."

The intrusion of Khaduceth's large head into Isscer's space nearly made the Farmcrafter startle backwards, but he held his ground and stood quietly while Khaduceth did his sniffing around. He wasn't unfamiliar with the largeness of dragons, but the massive size of the brown and the nearness of him had Isscer’s stomach in knots. He had never been comfortable around dragons simply because he still bore the grudge that came with being Stolen, and as such he tried to avoid being too near them if at all possible.

However, there was an added factor here that kept Isscer from turning tail and getting as far away from Khaduceth as quickly as he could. Talian was a friend, or at least Isscer considered him as one, and he couldn’t just rebuff his lifemate like he would typically. He did not have the bravery or truly the inclination to make the first step and pet the dragon. When Talian stepped forward, however, Isscer took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to gingerly run his fingertips along Khaduceth’s nose. It was surprisingly soft, and he was momentarily surprised at just how soft it was; all the same, he dropped his hand after a moment, remembering just what he was doing.

“He is rather large, yes.” Isscer agreed, sizing up Khaduceth. If he ever happened to Impress, would he Impress a brown? He had never dared to think on the subject, but a part of him was curious to know if Talian had ever envisioned himself being paired to a brown dragon. “That is rather impressive, “ admitted Isscer, shooting Khaduceth a look that bordered on appreciative. “I would think that all dragons would want their riders to be, well, proper riders. He really doesn’t mind you continuing to work in the Healing Hall?” The Farmcrafter could barely believe it, but wasn’t foolish enough to think that a dragon--and he was not going to think about it as his dragon, because that would never happen--would want him to continue working with the harvests. There was a difference between being a healer and a farmer, after all. “You seem to be a good match, Khaduceth and you.” It was a bit awkward, a bit envious (if only because Isscer thought Khaduceth a rare sort of dragon), and Isscer shot Talian a nervous, shy smile. “A special dragon for a special person.”

"He doesn't mind at all," Tal assured Isscer, still gently running his fingers up and down the length of Khaduceth's snout. "He watches through my eyes when I work...Sometimes he asks questions, even though he doesn't really have to. He could just read my mind and know whatever I know, but I think he chooses to ask because he wants to heart me explain it..." It was hard to describe his interactions with Khaduceth, really. The dragon was so sweet and politely interested in the boy's craft, so much that he trusted Talian's words on the matter more than his own probing. Tal often suspected that it was more a respect thing than anything else. Yes, that was the word...

"...He respects me. I don't think most dragons really give a shard about being a proper 'rider' and all that....That's very much a human thing, I think. Some of the ones in my class are competitive with one another, but I doubt they would be if their rider wasn't into it, too." He'd heard of contrary dragons, but having been bonded to a beast like Khaduceth, he could barely comprehend it. Khaduceth would never do anything to make him unhappy. "He just wants me to be happy. We're not very good at flying or anything like that, to be honest...and if the others laugh, he scolds them. He just doesn't care."

Tal knew he'd needed a dragon like Khaduceth. He didn't believe in fate or anything like that, but it was plain weird how perfect this particular dragon was. "...No other dragon would be right. I'll never know how he found me," he confessed. He shook his head a bit. "...I don't really have the answer."

And that drives you insane Khaduceth said with dry affection.  He turned towards the boy and butted him lightly with his nose. I love you.

Respect. It was a concept that Isscer couldn't quite wrap his head around, and he couldn't help the confused look that flitted across his face as Talian described it. There was some reason a dragon chose to bond with whom they bonded with, but Isscer was so afraid of the dragons that it had just been easier to demonize them rather than have to consider why they could possibly want him. "A dragon who isn't good at flying? That is a first," he conceded, a tentative , slightly teasing, smile gracing his features as he observed the pair. "You seem to have gotten lucky, though."

Talian was different. Isscer could recognize genius when he met it, and he had never heard of an Honorary Master only being twenty-six Turns old. If anyone had had reasons to not Impress, it was someone of that caliber of experience; perhaps Isscer's avoidance of Impression was not because of his ability in his Craft, though  he had previously thought that was the case. "Fate, probably. It can't be cheated, though I have surely tried." Isscer shook his head in a case of wry amusement, but it covered his distress. "I suppose I will only have to hope that my dragon is as understanding," he forced himself to say, uncertain as to what else he could possibly say. He would have felt bad if he had said anything bad about Impression in the presence of Khaduceth; Isscer forced a smile instead.

"Thank you for fixing my nose. I don't suppose I will have to come back for a check-up later on, will I?" Isscer didn't think he would mind if it was Talian looking at him, but the fact of the matter was that he was often busy, as he tended to take on more Craft-related work than one person ought to have. "I will make time for it, if you think it's something that needs monitoring."

"Oh, He's not the one who's bad at flying...that would be me," Tal said with a grim laugh. It irked him to be so bad at something that he was putting forth an honest effort for...in fact, being below average was probably the one thing that made him care enough to try. He'd always been good at the things he did, and lacking natural talent was grating to him. He wasn't so much competitive as he had high expectations of himself, and this was the first time he'd ever poured his effort into something only to come up with no real results. It was baffling and he didn't like it one bit, but Khaduceth had been instrumental in showing him that it was okay. Perhaps the sky would not fall if they weren't the best. Shards, maybe being sub-par was saving his craft...

"Fate?" He offered a mellow but skeptical smile. "No such thing." There was no accusation or condescension, just a fact. Fate was a silly thing to believe in; there was no logic to support it., just the comfort in blaming one's circumstances on something beyond anyone'e control. Tal's life would have been easier if he accepted the existence of fate, but just because he didn't have an answer for Khaduceth yet didn't mean one wasn't out there. He smiled pleasantly, then nodded to Iisscer.

"I'll need to look at it a time or two, but it won't require much maintenance. Noses break easily, but they heal pretty painlessly too," he said. "I'll send you a flitter when I'd like to see it, okay? You just maker time whenever you can." He nodded once more and gave Khaduceth one more gently pat on the snout before calling Fellis back to his arm and turning to head inside. It had been a long day, and a nap would be good about now.  He only hoped that he'd eased Isscer's mind a bit. He remembered how it felt to so badly need comfort.

Isscer shot Talian a look as he dismissed the notion of fate, part disbelief and part amused. Of course the healer would say that; in all his life Isscer had never met a person so... factual about everything. That probably had something to do with the fact that Talian operated on a level of intellect that Isscer could never hope to attain and as such thought he could solve everything. Isscer sympathized, but did not see how there could be any logical explanation for Impression--it was too random, too sudden, for facts.

The Farmcrafter nodded, taking heart in the reassurance about the nose. "Good--I wouldn't want to have to give up work just because of this." Days of lazing about did not sit well with him, and Isscer had no desire to be bored stiff. He nodded, glancing at the flitter as it settled on Talian's arm, trying to look for distinguishing marks so he would recognize it later. "I'll look forward to it, then," Isscer concluded, a genuine smile curling at the corners of his mouth. While he still did not feel quite at ease around Talian, this was a good start; time would only tell if Isscer would be able to forgive himself for abandoning the Healer like he had when Khaduceth had come into the picture, but at least he had told Talian he was sorry if nothing else.

Isscer sighed, shading a hand with a large, callused palm as he glanced skyward. The grumbling of his stomach was pressing, and he turned towards the Dining Hall, intent on finding something to slake his hunger.