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 Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2019 8:25 am
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Threadfall was a necessary part of her life. She had no choice but to fly, and she and Brancath had been doing well. There'd been so much thread, and so much to fight, that Isilje had pushed through the strange, burning pain in her shoulder, neck, and back. Not that this had been a good thing, for the moment they landed, she was yanked to the tank and dunked to kill the thread that had eaten through wherhide and fabric. When she'd been pulled out, there was visible, thick scoring across the right side of her back, stretching up and across her neck and shoulder to just across her collar bone.
The small Albino had gone back to her weyr, where a very agitated Brancath waited. Eyes whirled a mix of yellow and orange, looking at her lifemate with a clear feeling of worry and irritation, You should lay down. The injury is hurting you. The girl made a noise of discontent, looking away from the dragon and carefully wrapping her bandages a bit tighter. Her top half was only in small-clothes to avoid aggravating the wound, though she'd left on her wherhide pants to make her feel at least a little more competent, "It's okay, Brancath...It's nothing. I'll be alright." Even if the healers had told her to take it easy, Isilje just wasn't the sort to sit around and WAIT on things. There were things to be done, even if she were to be Grounded.
The White was displeased, her hearts aching as she reached out to Baihath, Alya, and Rio, knowing well that they, above any others, might yet be able to get Isilje to calm down. Her dearest Rider didn't do well with injury, Rio, Alya, Baihath, please join me in Isilje's weyr. She's been injured and will not listen to sense and rest properly....
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2019 9:16 am
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Rio hated Threadfall, and he hated not having a dragon. He would have been perfectly content to wait, if not for the fact that people he cared about were up, risking injury and worse, and he was stuck on the ground, borderline useless. He'd even been dismissed from the general busywork that was usually given to candidates for the duration, as he was just sick enough to be more of a hindrance than a help. He'd been dragging and snuffling his way through lessons and chores for days, cuddling up to Alya and Isilje whenever situations allowed, victim of a miserable (man-)cold and consequently even clingier and more desperate for affection than usual.
'Fall had pulled him halfway out of that funk, and he really had tried to be useful, but after getting in the way one too many times (he was a little too slow, a little too woozy), he was on his cot in the Barracks, more miserable than ever. Useless. Stuck, waiting for word on Alya, Isilje, and L'nik, worry eating away at the typically upbeat young man. Queenie nuzzled against his neck, crooning, and they sat together for what seemed like an age.
Until Brancath bespoke him, and he was up in a heartbeat. His imagination wanted to run wild with 'she's been injured,' and for a few moments it did, until he fully processed that, for one, Brancath had sounded relatively calm, and for another, that they were in their weyr. If it had been bad bad, Isilje would be in the infirmary. But while that eased the full-on panic he could have otherwise thrown him into, he still rushed to get to them as quickly as possible, which was maybe not particularly advisable given that he was a bit unsteady on his feet, but...well. Priorities.
He did at least pause long enough to hastily apologize to the person he stumbled into.
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Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2019 5:01 pm
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The day that they would join the rest of their brothers and sisters in the sky was fast approaching... and Alya couldn't have been more terrified. Sometimes she thought that there'd been a mistake. Dragonriders were supposed to be fearless, risking their lives to protect all of Pern... but before she could delve too deeply into those thoughts, Baihath was there, wrapping her up in laughter and love. There was no one else in the world for him except for her--and yes, Thread could be scary, but it was also the most important game of all! Her large white was cheering her up mightily... at least up until Brancath spoke to them both.
Alya gasped out loud, her dark eyes wide as fear pierced her heart. Even Baihath paused for a moment, his eyes going grey for the briefest of moments. Brancath is with her! She's perfectly safe! Come, let's go see! He nosed at her chest, and, already on the verge of tears, she nodded before vaulting onto his back.
With one, graceful leap, they were in the air, quickly circling down towards Isilje's weyr. Hello, we are here! He greeted the older white cheerfully, landing so that Alya could spill off his back in a frantic tangle of limbs. "Isilje!" She called out at once, her anxiety spiking. "Are you alright?!"
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Posted: Wed Feb 27, 2019 6:42 am
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Honestly, Isilje hadn't expected Brancath to summon Rio and Alya. Her weyr's door in tot the hall was wide open, and the ledge was all but ignored. A shift marked the start of the girl trying to change her own bandaging, so when Alya came in on Baihaith with that bright voice, the girl was startled, Stumbling to her feet, she looked at the other with guilt written on her face, quickly trying to cover the thick threadscore back up, "Alya...I...I'm fine, really." Liar. Brancath moved slightly to accomodate Baihath on her ledge, glancing at him with whirling eyes. There was real terror that perhaps she'd been the fault for her beloved's injury.
The petite Albino offered Alya an awkward smile, shifting a bit of long white hair out of her face, "I promise...I'm fine...It's just some threadscore...I'll be back in the air in a sevenday...or a little more, if you believe the Healer." Fingers moved to pick at the edge of a bandage as she settled upon her bed, looking rather put out, "Really, there's no need to worry, I'm sorry Brancath summoned you and...Rio?" Her eyes turned to her door, hearing the sound of feet stumbling towards her weyr. Shards and shells, this was embarrassing.
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Posted: Wed Feb 27, 2019 4:53 pm
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Rio caught the edge of the doorway with his hand, serving the dual purpose of both slowing himself down and steadying himself a bit as he swung inside, because woo, that was more effort than he'd put into anything this past sevenday, and it had him awfully lightheaded. But the young man was quite pleased that he only wobbled a tiny bit as he entered, eyes running over not only Isilje, but Alya just in case, and the whites out on the ledge.
"I hear someone's not behaving themselves," he said, although the chiding cheer in his tone could only go so far to cover that he was out of breath from running, and his expression pulled with worry. One thing he was long past any worry about was personal space, and didn't hesitate to sit on the edge of the bed and lean 'round to have an appraising look at the tiny whiterider. But regardless of how casual they looked, every movement was careful, so as to avoid any jostling. Similarly, his words stayed light and calm, no matter how serious his eyes were. "What's the damage?"
It obviously couldn't be horrible, Isilje was clearly whole and lucid, but Brancath wouldn't have called them for nothing.
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Posted: Sat Mar 16, 2019 12:02 pm
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"You got scored!" Alya fretted, immediately darting forward so she could gently reach out to cup Isilje's face. She might have grasped her by the shoulders, instead, but she didn't dare agitate the wounds further. "That's just..." She shuddered visibly, shaking her head as though to dispel the fear and disgust that swelled up inside her. To think of Thread burrowing through the skin--it was revolting! Poor, sweet Isilje... and it brought up all her own fears about fighting, soon. What if she died? What if Baihath died?
Baihath stretched his neck out to nuzzle at Brancath, crooning at her with reassurance. Things would be alright! Why, it was because Brancath and Isile were so good at flying that she hadn't been hurt badly!
Alya's dark eyes snapped immediately to the entrance of the weyr at the sound of a familiar voice, notably wilting with relief. "Oh, Rio! Come look!" She practically whined, pulling one hand away from Isilje to reach entreatingly towards him. As he sat on the bed, she suddenly paused, dark eyes narrowing. "Wait! Are you sick?!"
This was not at all acceptable.
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