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Between was looking more appealing with every passing candle mark. T'rel had made an announcement--after the dragons had finished their cries; something the Weyrleader felt he would never get used to--that the Weyrwoman had died of an infection. Never having been a good liar, the young man felt he was improving at a terrible pace. He knew Ky't had betweened. Why, he could only guess; but the guilt that had already taken hold of his mind was only doubled.

Now what would they do? They didn't have any mature golds close to rising--Amarath had just risen! What would they do without a Weyrwoman? He supposed Ash would take over Ky't's duties until Amarath rose again... What would he do without Ky't?

Pryth's, you hear me. You know what has happened. Come. Mine is in need of company, and he will not listen to me. He wishes to leave--but I will not let him.

T'rel took a long time in answering the door. He seemed to be verbally arguing with someone who wasn't there--or his dragon. "I don't care," he was telling Zelith. "If it's someone asking about flight formations again, just tell them I haven't finis--" he opened the door and stared, wet brown eyes widening. Well, M'nie certainly wasn't who he had been expecting. He'd expected some pesky Weyrling coming to ask about formations and things that really didn't seem to matter anymore. He stared open mouthed for sometime, before seeming to, at a mental nudge from Zelith, remember his manners.

At least, he remembered that M'nie was there. "What are you doing here?" he asked. He glanced at Zelith and frowned slightly. The bronze was up to something again, wasn't he? Typical that he'd get a busybody bronze. "Oh. You can come in," he added, rubbing at an eye. The grief was still too close for him to care much about his appearance. "You've been out in the sun," he observed. "Nice day? Haven't been out yet myself..." At least he was attempting to be casual. "You feeling any better? I know you were sick last time we spoke."

Of course, it didn't come to mind that last time they'd spoken had been a few sevendays ago.

"So you've been to see the healers?" T'rel seemed relieved. Perhaps he was concerned he'd be losing more riders, so soon after Ky't's death, or maybe it was something else. "A fever, though... You should be in bed, then. Not outside like you clearly have been." He studied her, and frowned slightly. "I'm sure the healers know better than I do, but just looking at you, you seem in perfect health. You're glowing with it! Like a gold ready to rise..." he hesitated, looking at his feet.

"Like the rest of the Weyr, I suppose..." he began awkwardly. How was he holding up? Shards, he didn't know. "Do you want a bubblypie? Some candidate brought them up to me earlier, but I'm not feeling much like eating anything sweet..." He paused and raised his eyes to study the bluerider again.

"When do you think you'll be able to go between again?" he asked. "You should be learning how to duck. I don't want any of our riders hit by Thread if it's preventable."

"...Five months?" T'rel stared for a moment, before swallowing. "You sure that's what the healers said? I think you should be in bed, M'nie. If it's something that bad..." Something horrid must have been wrong with M'nie! Was it cancer? The healers could fix cancer. T'rel had heard they could take things out--which disgusted him, but if it saved lives... Firehead? No, firehead was native to the Southern continent.

A parasite, maybe? Maybe... No, surely she would have told him... Jailla had made sure he knew right when she found out... "M'nie, are you pregnant?" he asked with some awe, eyes wide. "I can't think of anything else..." Unless it really was a parasite--but she did seem the perfect image of health. He assumed it was with the male greenrider from a while back. "Congratulations!" But it sounded half hearted. Why was he expected to function? Ky't was gone. "...You can hear Zelith?" he asked, blinking. "Since when?"

He seemed fine? That was a relief. That way if Z'iv or someone else needed him, he wouldn't have to worry about seeming weak.

"Who's the father?" T'rel asked with polite curiosity. He wanted to keep the conversation as casual as possible. "I heard Pryth flew a green a while back, but I never heard what came out of that." The young Weyrleader never paid much attention to green flights. He knew that wasn't very good of him, being Weyrleader--but they had never truly interested him. Especially after Zelith had flown Rath.

He paused, looking vaguely confused. So M'nie could hear Zelith? That was unexpected. Perhaps the bronze had taken a liking to the bluerider. He glanced questioningly at Zelith. "I've never been able to hear Pryth," he mused aloud. "Zelith must really like you." He forced a smile for the bluerider's benefit.

"Do you have a name for the baby yet?"

T'rel certainly had always been nosy--more so than he was being now, with M'nie. "So K'nar's the father?" he asked, giving another forced smile. He'd always liked K'nar. The man was a hard worker, and had some skill in the skies. "I'll have to congratulate him next time I see him." It seemed, talking to M'nie about her soon-to-be baby distracted him, if only briefly, from the grief he was experiencing.

"Are you going to foster her here in the Weyr, or at a hold?" T'rel asked. He didn't notice Zelith's expression. The bronze was clearly amused, eyes whirling green even in the dim of the weyr. "Maybe," he mused. He figured Pryth didn't like him much. He wondered why. Surely he had never done anything to upset the blue. "Maybe he's been silent--because you've been avoiding me?" he suggested with a shrug. "I noticed at the drills. But that might have been because you were uncomfortable... Shards, M'nie! You should have told me sooner. I could have made you go between and..." He gave a visible shudder.

"The Weyr?" T'rel gave a small, genuine smile. "You'll have to introduce me. I'm sure the baby'll be a great dragonrider when it comes time for that. I'll bring you something when--you said it's a girl? I'll bring you something when she's born. A present or something, for you and the baby."

I know. Zelith directed at M'nie, amused. I know, but I will not tell. You do not want him to know. I do not see why not. What could happen, if he knew? Nothing worse than what already has happened. The bronze was attempting to reason with the bluerider. Why should he not know? Zelith paused however, to watch his rider's reaction to M'nie's words. His eyes had gone from a vibrant green to a concerned yellow. One great eye followed T'rel's movements as the Weyrleader paced.

"I told her what happened between us," the young man had lost his composure, and his voice had a ragged sound to it. "I told her, like you and Cesa said to...And she went between. It wasn't infection...she was better. I didn't think Rath'd take her..." He flopped down onto a chair and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have said anything."

T'rel cared in that he thought of M'nie as a friend; and the baby, well--T'rel had always liked children. Which of course led to him being far too soft on the candidates and Weyrlings. He really was lucky he had Ky't to discipline--he didn't have Ky't's help anymore. She wasn't there to help him.

T'rel looked up almost immediately at M'nie's words. He frowned and stood, shaking his head. "No," he said. "It's not your fault." He wrapped an arm around her in a friendly fashion, and pulled her close, kneeling down to hug her while she sat. "It's not your fault. It's my fault. If I hadn't--" he hesitated and held her still. "M'nie, calm down. Remember the baby! Here," he moved to get a bedfur and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Relax. Have something to drink. Klah? Fruit juice? Do you want anything to eat?"

It is no one's fault, Zelith's eyes had gone orange. His voice was almost angry. It was Rath's and hers' decision. You did not push them between. Mine, stop acting as if you did. You too, Pryth's.