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 Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 1:43 pm
Hiraeth's latest Flight had brought about mixed feelings all around, especially for Shylla. To be fair, the prospect of bringing new dragons into the world and fostering their bonds with eager Candidates always filled her to the brim with excitement, but she was quick to remember Hiraeth's last clutch and her sickness, which left her with lingering feelings of concern. For the sake of Evmeth she did her best not to dwell on such things, but as the weeks went on she began to see the familiar signs of illness in Hiraeth, leading her suspicions into more fearful territory.
She'd been one of the first called when the Sands were sealed to the general public, which is how she knew things were taking a turn for the worst. Somehow she managed to swallow her fear and drown herself in work, taking care not to linger her eyes too long on the scene unfolding before her. Yes, there was trouble afoot, but she kept her nose to the ground and her hands full of hot cups of klah, serving refreshment and reassuring words wherever she could. Every so often, she took to the halls of the weyr itself, searching for more healers or other supplies to make the growing entourage comfortable. Anything and everything she could do to make herself useful, to keep her head from any sort of darker thoughts. Even Evmeth, bless the gold's heart, had gone silent, though her presence remained as a pale flickering warmth in the back of Shylla's mind.
Shylla was determined to be a comfort before the storm, though not being a healer herself she ran out of things to help with eventually. At some point, she deemed her presence was taking up more space than was needed, and with a polite nod she excused herself to the halls outside the Sands, taking a moment to breathe. It was so much quieter in the empty halls, and by her estimation it had to be well into the night, most of High Reaches tucked away in their quarters. When the news would began to leak the next morning, Shylla could only imagine the different sort of silence that would descend upon the weyr, the hushed tones of worry, concern, and panic. She'd seen it happen before, and she felt it coming on again.
The goldrider had left the Sands with the intention of catching her breath, but the more she pondered the state of things the more she found it difficult to breathe, choked up by the infinite possibilities. Leaning against one of the cavern walls, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to inhale and exhale, reciting mantras the same way she instructed Evmeth to when the gold got antsy. It worked, if only slightly, to bring her palpitating heart down to a more normal speed.
Logic told her to try and sleep, to let the healers do their jobs, but Shylla was wide awake, and probably going to be that way for hours. The question then became...now what?
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 1:59 pm
This was Not Good.
Poor sharding dragon shouldn't even rise anymore with what it did to her, she'd been ill thrice now with clutches but this was the earliest it had set in. It was the worst too, enough to chill his blood with fear for the gold and her as yet unlaid clutch. He'd never dealt with anything like this before and nor had anyone else at the Weyr; not even Weyrhealer Amarid who had been a healer for longer than he had been alive, not even the couple of veteran journeymen who had even more experience than she did.
The trouble had started just as he had been planning to go to bed the previous day and so of course he had attended at once, along with the Weyrhealer and anyone else senior enough to have a sharded clue where to even start with this. Shards.
Eventually Amarid had sent him away to sleep, and once she had threatened to relieve him of duty if he didn't go he had departed but only for a handful of hours. Now he was back; pale, half-rested, unshaved but washed and in fresh clothes at least. Vena stood upright on his shoulders, the green's tail twitching restlessly and her eyes flickering between orange and yellow. Gold Aorta trotted along beside them, and her eyes showed only yellow with the occasional pulse of grey as Bereck's hastening steps made a scar twinge.
The white-haired healer rounded one of the last corners that would lead him into the hatching sands a little out of breath and leaning quite heavily on his cane as he walked. It wasn't much of a surprise to see somebody catching their breath away from the stifling heat that the Sands gave off but he was a little surprised that they didn't have healer knots on their shoulder. A moment later of course he recognised her; Shylla, she had been there early he thought though honestly he hadn't paid much attention to anyone but his colleagues.
"How is it?" he asked softly as he drew close to her; walls had ears and the last thing he wanted was something he had said or something that had been said to him out here being heard by a passing drudge, misinterpreted or exaggerated, and spread around the whole Weyr within the hour.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 2:41 pm
Shylla had been so caught up with her breathing mantras that she hadn't noticed the Masterhealer's initial approach, and when she spoke she opened her eyes quickly with a start, her shoulders jumping from the scare. As her sight and heartrate adjusted, she acknowledged Bereck with a formal nod and a tired curtsy of her sand-covered skirt, her expression nevertheless twisted into a frown.
"The same as ever," replied Shylla, mindful of the ears in the walls. Out of nervous habit, one of her hands reached for her messy braid, beginning to untie and plait it again absent-mindedly. "The healers are doing what they can, but it would seem that they're at a standstill."
Shylla knew the basics of dragon care from her training as a weyrling and the previous times she'd played nurse for Hiraeth, but all of this was way over her head. They knew Hiraeth was bound to get ill, of course they did, but they'd had her fly anyway. And why was that? Oh, of course, they needed Hiraeth to provide for the weyr, to rebuild the population and do her duty as the senior goldrider. She couldn't retire, not yet, because Shylla and Evmeth had pulled their little stunt a few turns back and Cinnamath, while capable, was still so painfully young. And so, by logic, Hiraeth flew because of Shylla's mistakes, and now was sick because of Shylla's mistakes, her condition souring by the hour. In the presence of Venk and the healers it was easy to shove the accusations in her head aside, but out here in the open all of her guilt was laid bare. Hiraeth was sick, and it was her fault.
She glanced around them to ensure they were alone, then looked to Bereck with all the raw anguish she'd kept hidden on the Sands. "Masterhealer," she pleaded, her voice low and furtive, "she'll be alright, won't she? She'll pull through, she has to." Maybe Bereck had some secret understanding of medicine that Shylla couldn't comprehend, maybe he could just explain it all away and make things look not so dire. Her day had been so hectic she hadn't had time to ponder the alternatives.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 3:06 pm
He wished he could just give a confident yes, walk in there, snap his fingers and make it all alright. It didn't work like that though, and lies wouldn't do anyone any good right now. Bereck sighed wearily and rubbed his forehead as he tried to work out what he could say that was in the least bit reassuring and yet also true.
"She's eggbound," he said eventually, "do you know what that means? It means one of the eggs, the first one it seems, it either too large for her to lay or malformed so that she can't. Last night we were trying to massage things along but," he gave a tiny shake of his head, which probably said everything that needed to be said on that subject. "If there has been no change then it seems increasingly likely that she will need surgery." This was not sounding very reassuring. This was why he wasn't the sort of healer who was at people's beside telling them what had happened to them, he couldn't sugarcoat or break things to people gently. Shards. At least he'd stopped himself before he told Shylla that none of them had more than read about this happening ever before.
Bereck pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath and let it out again. He just needed to look like he knew what he was doing and make some definite statements about what they were going to do to help rather than what was wrong.
"The best we can do for her is bring in some more experts to consult with Amarid, myself, our other experienced dragonhealers," he continued after a pause. "Between us we will find a solution. We'll help her." Even if the clutch couldn't be saved surely they could save Hiraeth.... Right? It would help if they even knew what it was that ailed her so that they could try to treat that but they didn't know, so they would just have to try to keep her strength up and get the eggs out of her as quickly as possible.
But what if they couldn't save her?
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 4:41 pm
Shylla had heard of the term eggbound, and kept up with most of the explanation just fine, but her expression paled at the term 'surgery'. Surgery, from what she understood of it, was a last-ditch option, one that they wouldn't use unless the situation absolutely necessitated that, and the term hadn't even crossed anyone's lips the last time Hiraeth had clutched, as sick as she'd been then. For things to have progressed so quickly meant that they were in desperate times indeed, and what little inner security Shylla had crafted for herself began to crumble at an alarming rate.
She looked to Bereck for reassurance, and what she saw was a tired, aging man with too much on his plate. She noted the way he favored his cane, the dark tissue under his usually brilliant blue eyes, the slump to his shoulders. Shylla was exhausted and scared, certainly, but it had to pale in comparison to whatever the Masterhealer was going through. If any of this was going to work, she had to make sure that the people that were capable of helping could get the job done, and that meant setting aside her own insecurities, at least for the moment. This was not about her, no matter what her mind might conjure. It was about Hiraeth, and Venk, and everyone in High Reaches who needed the Hatching to go by smoothly.
"I could be in the air within a candlemark," she offered, finishing the pleats to her braid. Being perfectly honest, Shylla had little experience with travel and the thought of leaving home left her with an uncomfortable flutter in her chest, but at this point she was willing to do just about anything to ensure Hiraeth's safety. "If you give me a location and a name, I can find them." By Faranth's egg, she was going to be of use, and the longer she stood still the antsier she got.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 5:09 pm
Yes.... Yes, good. Bereck nodded distractedly, his mind already miles away seeking names. Dragonhealers he had studied under at Healer Hall, Weyrhealers from other Weyrs? Fort's at least surely could be trusted, but that would be up to the Weyrleader- or was it? Could Amarid overrule him in medical matters? He'd be a damn fool to refuse whatever the shaff she said was needed and frankly he suspected that the man was a bit scared of her, but then she tended to have that sort of effect on that sort of man.
"Oh... yes," Bereck focused back on Shylla and nodded. "Yes. Of course; Evmeth can carry more passengers than a smaller dragon and the word doesn't need to spread so much. You should take somebody with you though, somebody you can trust to keep quiet." Who were her friends? He had no idea but presumably she had some. "I'll give you a list," he continued, Vena disappearing as he spoke, "and Amarid will...." He was getting carried away, he should really check with his Weyrhealer before he got carried away.
the huge green replied from where she lay anxiously curled on her ledge. Speaking to Amarid was not such an unpleasant task at least, Ber had known her most of his life after all.
"Right." Bereck rubbed his face, shifted his stance and combed his fingers through his hair; restless energy twanged through his body, every fibre of his being screamed that he should be doing not standing here talking and logic could not fight those instincts. "Right... do you have somebody you can ask to come?" If not could Amarid spare him to go? She had probably intended for him to still be asleep at the moment but given he wasn't shouldn't he be with Hiraeth? What if things took a turn for the worse and they had to act right then and there? They might need his surgical skills, his absence could be the difference between Hiraeth living and dying. Shaff, shaff, shaff!
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Posted: Tue Apr 29, 2014 9:37 pm
Yes, yes, a plan was being set into motion, and already Shylla's countenance seemed to improve at the prospect of being on the move. In the back of her mind, she tugged on her bond with Evmeth, drawing the pale gold's unsettled presence in.
In the span of a few moments, she relayed the basic outline of the brewing contingency to her bondmate, nodding softly to herself. Every so often, the gold would interject with a quip or a concern, but Shylla urged her to keep focus, and by the time Bereck addressed her again, she let Evmeth slip away, confident that she'd instilled enough urgency to keep the antsy dragon occupied.
"There are a few people I can think of for starters," she responded, starting a list of her own in her head. Bereck would have been a welcome passenger and a comfort in a strange place, but his place was by Hiraeth's side in case things took a turn for the worst while she was gone. What she needed was a soldier who put the weyr first, someone who could understand that secrecy was paramount and that inciting rumors among the wings was only going to make things worse. Under those criteria, her list began to shrink dramatically, and after a moment's thought, she wondered why she hadn't settled on a name in the first place.
"I'll wake C'ross, if he isn't up already," she finally responded, "I trust him, and he's one of the finest riders in the Second Wing." She'd known the bluerider since they were but swaddling weyrbrats, and though they hadn't seen each other in what felt like Turns, she knew that she could count on him for something as important as this.
Bereck's anxious energy was contagious, and looking to him she began to knead her hands, which ached for the sturdy feeling of her riding gloves. Access to telepathic communication made her feel like she could be doing something more productive than standing, like oiling her saddle for the ride. "I'll get Evmeth ready to fly if you can send me the list of names once they've been compiled?" It was an out, an offer of escape for two troubled souls who both preferred to work through their struggles.
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Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2014 1:19 pm
Under other circumstances he probably would have scoffed, might even have snapped irritably at the suggestion that the gold rider might know of anyone in the healing community that he did not. Right now however he wasn't arguing; he was tired - might forget somebody - and if Shylla wanted to bring in people he'd never heard of then so be it, if they turned out to be useful that was fantastic and if not they could be thrown out.
"Good," Bereck replied, "on all counts. I'll have the list with you within that candlemark, probably sooner. If we think of anyone extra after I send it to you Berath will alert Evmeth and you can add them." What would he do without his dragon? She made so many things in life so much easier and faster and that was only the practical side of it, the rest was too much to mention.
"We will solve this Shylla," Bereck added, stepping forward to touch her arm briefly. They would, they had to - he had to. From a logical standpoint he knew it was both illogical and arrogant to consider himself entirely personally responsible for Hiraeth but that was how he felt. She was his patient, even if she was lots of other people's patient too.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 9:28 am
If Shylla had seemed tired before, she was certainly abuzz with energy now, keeping her hands busy by coiling her braid in on itself so it wouldn't flap about in the wind. She knew it was adrenaline, that once her mission was done she was sure to crash, but that was something to think about later. "I'll let you know once I'm in the air, and when we return," she nodded, her eyes distant as she pored over her training, trying to remember precisely where all the healer halls were. She had memorized them all not too long ago, why were they slipping her mind now? Her lower lip began to pout and her brow furrowed at some unknown point down the hall. What point was all that work if it wasn't useful when needed...?
She found herself pulled out of her reverie by a steady touch on her shoulder, and at once she looked back to Bereck. Her expression softened, and she released her hair to set a hand on top of his, squeezing it gently. "We will," she repeated. She had caused this mess, but having the agency to fix it was starting to give her hope despite the odds, and she could only wish that the feeling was just as contagious as her previous anxiousness.
"Thank you," she added, slowly pulling away from his hand, "For this chance. For letting me try." It felt like it had been forever since she'd been called upon to do something important, and her sense of duty choked out her feelings of despair any day. If anything, Bereck had given her reason to hope, and that in and of itself was a reason to give thanks.
But alas, sitting still was causing her to slip back into her rut, and so she offered a nod as her exit. "You'll know when we're airborne," she repeated, and with one final curtsy, she turned for her weyr. At first she tried to walk with some measure of composure and dignity, but the tension in her spine grew and grew knowing that time was of the essence, and so before she'd even rounded the first corner she was gathering her skirts and breaking for a sprint. It was a short jog, she knew, but it was even faster if she ran, and besides, this was no time for formalities. She had riding to do.TawnyAngel I think we can call this a wrap, unless you want him to add something in? I can always edit her exit~
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