[PRP] stop, drop [ a'ye & d'mon

[houllow]

He felt awful, like his head was under water and he was unable to come up for air. It was hard to breathe, he was sure if he dared to open his mouth he'd cough rather than speak, and his vision swam as though he were flying with his eyes open. Everyone's voices sounded very muffled, even his beloved Oyath sounded like she was speaking through a thick wall, and A'ye wasn't sure he wasn't deaf or going to be. This cold was far worse than he expected, far worse now than what it'd been earlier in the sevenday. Why had he gotten this bad? How had it gotten this bad?

Because you didn't listen to me. There was an echo in his ears as the familiar warmth of his dragon tried to set in, the Green doing her utmost to comfort her rider from her distant perch. A'ye had sent her somewhat away, unwilling to risk a possible cross-specie infection, and naturally his lifemate resented him for it. Mine, you should be resting, not trying to do work. A'ye's response was as much of a mental shrug as he could manage, though that effort made the floor seem to vanish beneath him.

"Wh....hn." Was he really this bad off? All he'd done today was a few errands, a couple of chores - nothing out of his routine, but then why? Why was he so dizzy, why was the freezing Weyr so hot? The floor...so close? "Oyath...." The words barely escaped the Greenrider's lips before he hit the ground, his body giving out. Were he able to know where he was, or how he was blocking an important walkway, A'ye would have been mortified to be causing such problems for everyone.

Hopefully when he woke up, if he managed to do it on his own and soon, he'd leave before anyone even knew he was there.

Masterharper

HE DESERVES IT. WHICH HE IS...UNKNOWN

 

[Masterharper]

houllow

The afternoon's meeting hadn't gone well, and the bronze rider could feel the tension in his shoulders and neck. The Weyrleader was going to have to spread some bad news over the evening meal, and he was worried that the news was coming too late. Sickness had gripped the Weyr, and while this wasn't unusual during the winter months of the Turn, Master Donvie had said what was going around was particularly potent. It wasn't just the young, the ailing, and the old that were susceptible -- it was hitting the healthy the hardest.

D'mon had already heard more coughing, sniffling, and sneezing around the Weyr. His own Scorpius Wing already had a few riders come to him feeling under the weather, but from what Donvie said, this strain could pack a particularly potent punch. The Weyr needed to be alert, and his Wingleaders vigilant -- High Reaches was known to be full of stubborn riders and weyrfolk, but an ill wingrider could exacerbate their condition by hopping Between; worse, they could get fuzzy headed or botch their Between coordinates and lose their life. The same could be said about his Wingrleaders and their Second.

No, the Weyr was going to need to be prepared. Y'mar had taken Donvie to Healer Hall to discuss with the masters there, so with luck, they'd have more information concerning the illness, and possibly, some healers to The downside of a communal weyrlife meant sickness tended to go around quick, and with riders coming and going at all hours, he worried that this pandemic could spread to the Holds they were meant to protect.

It could still be all right. Winter illness is common. Is it really as bad as all that? Thistreth rumbled gently at his rider, trying to assuage his worries.

I don't know, Thistreth. Donvie said they had new cases cropping up every day, but I'll need to see what my Wingleaders report with the health of their Wings. We can't have folks push it if they're feeling unwell. I hope it's over blown, but I'm not going to take our Master Healer's warning lightly. The man reached up to run fingers through his hair. It was never good when illness visited the communal Weyr, but Donvie had mentioned it was a nasty piece of work. All D'mon could hope was that the Master Healer's concerns were overblown.

As he rounded the corner of the main hallway, D'mon caught sight of a rider collapsing to the ground. It wasn't just a trip or a fall -- the man was on the ground and not moving. "Shaff it!" He cursed, bolting over to the other to see what happened. The shoulder knots let him know he was one of their wing riders, and his face did look familiar.

It is Oyath's rider. Thistreth informed him.

Ah, yes. Names and faces sometimes blurred, but he looked over enough charts, reports, and had enough meetings to know the names of most of his riders. "A'ye, can you hear me?" He reached down to gently shake the other, just to see if he was awake and responsive.

What's wrong with him? He asked his dragon, hoping the bronze might have some better insight.

[I didn't want to assume anything i.e. obvious fever, or sweating, or claminess, or any of that. Also am unsure how passed out he is. xD Hope that's okay but let me know if you want me to edit/adjust anything.]  

[houllow]

DO NOT TOUCH HIM. HE IS MINE From a distance came a warning bugle, not quite directed at anyone but still not for everyone. A'ye's sudden silence had startled Oyath, his lack of replies not something she wanted. The Green was pretty sure she could smash in to wherever he was if she needed to, but for the moment all she did was clutch angrily at her perch, claws digging into hard stone.

"Ca...calm down...." A'ye's first words weren't a response to a voice he thought was calling him, but rather an attempt to reach his dragon. His head was swimming, he could barely hear her or hear anything, but he had to try. "M...m..fine, re..really." He didn't sound fine. A'ye's words were slurred and his voice was raspy, as though his throat was torn up, but he still tried to respond.

The hand on his back was too hot, it almost hurt against the fever, and he involuntarily shrugged to get it off. "Hurts, don't touch me - " His words caught in his throat at the face that came into view, and if were possible to become any more pale than he already was, A'ye could have been classified as a white dragon. "S..s...r..." His eyes went widem and maybe, just maybe, part of A'ye died on the inside. Perhaps it would be best if he passed out again and somehow managed to make his body teleport away. Like, forever.

Masterharper

THIS IS AWFUL I'M SORRY AYE IS SO USELESS

 

[Masterharper]

houllow

Thistreth reached out to Oyath when the green cried out her objection. The bronze dragon's eyes whirled a bit faster in concern, and he sent assurance to the smaller green. Mine is only there to help Yours, Oyath. He is not well, and needs to get to the Healers. The bronze dragon became more alert from his perch besides Eveleth, unsure if he needed to go seek out the angered green to try to better calm her, or even get one of the queen's involved. Oyath hadn't been the only dragon worried about their rider, but she seemed extra distressed.

D'mon, for his part, was already frowning. The fact that the green rider was already collapsed and not getting up was distressing enough; but the fact that his words were slurred and difficult to hear; no, he didn't look to be in good shape at all. He could practically feel the heat radiating off the man, even before A'ye shrugged him away.

D'mon didn't care about the response, or that A'ye seemed to have some semblance of recognition. "We gotta get you to the healers, A'ye," he spoke. He'd give the green rider one opportunity, and only one, to try to make it on his own. He offered a hand instead, to see if he could at least help pull the green rider to his feet. He'd respect the other's wish not to be touched, but not for too long. There was no option for A'ye to talk himself out of this one -- either he'd try to get up, or D'mon was picking him up.

"I'm not in a habit of letting the ill just clutter the corridors, you know." It was meant to lighten the mood, to assure A'ye that he wasn't in any trouble, or had nothing to fear. The poor green rider looked a wreck, but now looked like he thought D'mon was going to eat him alive. If he was frustrated at all it was because the poor man just looked about ready to succumb at any moment.

Thistreth, see if Xibalbath's knew anything about this. Part of D'mon wanted to know if the Wingleader had any idea that his green rider had been feeling ill, or whether or not this hit A'ye hard and fast. Ask Oyath, too. He commanded his bronze. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted the green rider to speak -- or if he'd even have the clarity to know what he was asking.

Oyath, please listen -- do you know how long your rider has been feeling poorly? The more you can tell us, the better it will be for him once we get him to the infirmary.  

[houllow]

The response to the bronze was dragon was not polite, not by any means. Oyath did not care that when he regained proper thought A'ye would be beyond horrified, but now was not then and now she was angry. I DON'T CARE. LEAVE HIM BE!!! From where she rested, the green flared her wings, claws digging hard into stone, eyes so red one might think they were on fire.

Still, the bronze spoke to her again when A'ye did not, and the red hue merely swirled about. His questions were rational, she knew her anger was not, and he wanted to be helpful. They were wanting to care about A'ye when she could not get there. . . . he has been ill since yesterday, or maybe the day before. Her voice sounded uncertain, as though Oyath was trying very hard to recall just how long the sniffling had been going on. The coughing was mostly new, but she had felt his fevers and heard the sniffles. It got worse in the night, and this morning.

If A'ye were able to hear this conversation (sadly, he could not), he would have been proud of how cooperative his little Green was being. Oyath was by no means a social dragon, but when push came to shove she could at least temper herself enough to be helpful.

As for the rider himself, he was attempting to curl into a ball...but while not being rude about it. His face was getting paler, a combination of being mortified over who had found him and the fact he was deathly ill. "Sss...r..." A violent coughing fit escaped his body, and he tried to clap his hands over his mouth before he spit any more on the finely chiseled body of his Weyrleader.

Masterharper

 

[Masterharper]

houllow

I don't know how big/heavy A'ye is -- but D'mon's just gonna pick him up if possible. xD Or at least help get him to his feet. Whatever you'd prefer. Or neither, if you'd like! I'm happy to edit this all out -- just let me know.

Thistreth listened to Oyath, relaying the information back to his rider, even as A'ye found himself in a harsh coughing fit. Part of the man wondered if the Healers warning had come a bit too late, since it looked like this poor green rider found himself well in the grip of illness. He was no healer, certainly, but it didn't take a Journeyman to see that A'ye was quite sick.

"Come on then," he warned, barely, "Up you go." The man was in no condition to be walking, and any amount of pain D'mon put him in by picking him up was going to be less than the discomfort he'd feel dying on the floor of the hallway. So it was, D'mon leaned down, and attempted to hoist up the man, bridal style. Thankfully, he was no slouch of a rider, and A'ye wasn't a brute. If this had been R'shahar, or Y'mar, or some of the other hulking men he'd have no way to do it -- but he could at least, if nothing else, get A'ye to his feet.

Thistreth, let the healers know we're on the way. This way at least there'd be a place for the man, and possible help to check on him immediately. Also, please let A'gus and Xibalbath know about A'ye's condition. Shaffit. A small part of the Weyrleader hoped that this was just a coincidence; sickness that had nothing to do with this illness already cropping up at the healer's station... but somehow, the man knew that was unlikely. The only other thing he could hope was that maybe they'd be able to keep the sickness from spreading too far.

"Try not to talk too much," he encouraged. "Save your strength." He didn't need his green rider to succumb right here, after all.

Thistreth sent a few waves of assurance to the upset green. Thank you, Oyath. That information will help Yours when we get him to the Healers. I'm sure he'll be just fine. He's in good hands. Between D'mon and the healers, the bronze had no doubt that surely, surely this would turn out all right. Though the dragon was worried, he did not wish for Oyath to sense such concern; the Weyr would get through this bought of sickness.

They had to.  

[houllow]

Masterharper

A'YE IS TINY (well like 5'6 but that's generally tiny) AND NOT PARTICULARLY HEAVY HE'S JUST SMALL AND PRETTY PLEASE FORGIVE HIM....

If...if ANYTHING happens to mine, I will find a way to... The green dragon trailed off, not quite willing to continue through with her threat. Everyone knew the unspoken act a dragon would do, should theirs leave the world, and Oyath just sent a mental wave of rage and fear directed towards the bronze. He would know what she was feeling, one way or another.

As for her rider, A'ye merely shrugged himself against D'mon and the man's arms. The greenrider was a small man, not exactly tiny, but he certainly wasn't big and hulking. If he were able to make proper comments about his weight or movements he could have, but instead he just let himself be picked up like a child's doll. He certainly felt like one, seeing as he was incapable of being useful in this situation.

Still, he felt he needed to try and do something. "I'm...so so...rry." A'ye cheeks turned pink, either from fever or an embarrassed blush, and were he in more control he'd be ashamed of his reactions. "Am....useless."  

[Uta]

Thistreth had half-a-mind to call one of the queens to calm Oyath, but he understood the dragon’s anger likely came from a source of fear. Her rider was not at all well, and thus, her threats were flatly ignored. Still, the bronze would keep an eye on her, for a panicked dragon would be no aid to her rider, or those trying to help. We are not a threat, Oyath, nor the healers. The sooner he is cared for, the sooner he will get well. He spoke assuredly, trying to force some sense on the panicked creature. He didn’t blame her for her distress, but he didn’t want her making matters worse.

D’mon, for his part, made haste. A’ye was light enough for the man, and the Weyrleader wasn’t a heartless man. This was one of his riders, after all. “Hush now,” he ordered quietly. “You’re not useless, just sick. The sooner we get you in the hands of the healers, the better you’ll be.” Part of D’mon wanted to now what had caused the rider to take such a turn; bad food? A flu? A bad cold? He wanted to know how long the symptoms had been felt, but that wasn’t important. No, right now, A’ye needed the healers, and needed them stat.

Thistreth--

I’ve already notified them. They’re ready to take him. The bronze assured.

Sure enough, as soon as he made it to the Infirmary, two Journeymen were waiting. “Over here, this cot.”

“Don’t worry, A’ye--we’ll get you right sorted.”


D’mon did as he was bad, setting A’ye down delicately, and handing him off to be fussed over by the healers. D’mon wanted to linger, to ensure the green rider would be fine--that coughing had sounded wretched--there were other places to be, and remaining underfoot in the Infirmary wasn’t it. Surely, A’ye’d be fine. Nothing more than a bad winter cold.

”houllow”

Could be a wrap after all this time? LOL