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Post by fidelli on Feb 10, 2010 21:54:18 GMT -5
When the kidnapping had started, A'mor had immediatly began to head over to the infirmary, and with an annoyed look began to get the infirmary ready. He had expected a few people to come in after the initial kidnapping, but he had never ever expected this. Noyth had kept him updated, curled in the highest couch in the corner and Queening over the room. Zucherroth has found the renegade - oh. The Brownrider, he has taken Orso and gone Betwe-
Suddenly the Gray was on her feet, teeth whirling. They are here! They are HERE! The kidnapper, that cheating, lying, cruel, evil, twisted man! Normally Noyth didn't talk, but A'mor knew that this was different even before her torrent of words. He was infront of her in a flash. She was bigger than a runner, but not by much, and he grabbed her head in his hands. Her wings flared out - bigger wings that were as big as she was, mantling over to protect. They fight! I will tear them apart, dragons fighting dragons! A'mor scowled at her, holding her head as she thrashed. "Stop it! Noyth, you can't fight! Dragons don't fight dragons, you silly clutch!" The Gray flung him off of her, and he hit the wall hard, swearing. He was in her mind in an instant, binding her tightly as he had to do when she Flew. It was ropes, billions of ropes, lassoing her, talking her down.
Within a few minutes she was calm, and he could lessen the pull he had over her. It was exhausting for him, but he didn't let up too much, and she was still trembling, wings mantled and fury coloring her eyes. Noy, we have to get ready. There is pain out there, and you know it. The Gray shuddered, but she was a clever girl, and in a subdued voice murmured, Yes. There are dragons hurt. The Gray settled back down in her couch, rustling her wings and daintly baring her teeth at her Rider, who had picked himself back up and was getting the bandages ready. Stop thinking that. I am small, but I am MUCH faster than most of those silly large things out there. I would NOT have been eaten! A'mor just shook his head, and murmured, "Yes dear," before waiting. The first in was B'nyur, who gave him an absentmided nod that A'mor returned.
The second was a Greenrider, her dragon very hurt, and B'nyur grabbed her and pulled her into the corner. She would require most of his attentions, which left him and Noyth to cover the rest of the area. It irked him that the new Healer's they were training were all Weyrlings, but he wouldn't let them in here with so much bloodand chaos that was sure to follow. They weren't dragonhealer's, besides, and mostly, that was what would be needed. Altith is still at the Weyrling Barracks - he will not let any of them out for no reason. I have asked. A'mor knew that she had asked him not to let any out - Noyth was funny that way, quiet. They could talk without really talking, and she was even quieter than most Black's. Her methods of speech were somewhat strange, but A'mor was used to it.
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Admin
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brect[M:-2154]
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Post by Admin on Feb 12, 2010 7:06:27 GMT -5
Will you feel better, better, better, Will you feel anything at all, Will you feel better, better, better, Will you feel anything at all.
Fajra was among the first to shuffle into the infirmary. She had Osro half wrapped in her hold as she awkwardly walked, trying to both keep herself from bleeding too much and protect him from the carnage that scattered the bowl. Behind her rider, Kalith prowled along, fiercely guarding the pair in front of her. She was stained in ichor, the green of the life granting substance bringing out the faint hints of green in her copper hide as it caught the light from nearby glows as she past into the infirmary. None of her injuries were that serious, at least not serious enough to cause her to lose any of her fierce elegance, and they simply made her look all the more the victor of a battle. She focused on protecting her rider, her interests clear, but she still managed to carry herself with pride. She had proved herself a proper Sr. Queen. She had defended her Weyr.
Straightening up, finally releasing some of her hold on Osro, Fajra faced A'mor. She knew that she had no authority in the infirmary, especially when she was injured. Weyrborn and raised, she knew how to handle children. That was, in fact, the majority of her training outside of dragons, not that she behaved like the maternal sort with anyone but her son and her siblings. She didn't know more than the basics about healing. Despite that, she didn't exactly concede to the healer in front of her, keeping some of the strength she had used to help Kalith order the entirety of the Weyr with her. "Look at him first;" she said. She barely kept it from being an order by coloring her cold voice with the deep concern for her son that she normally would have kept hidden from everyone else now that the battle was over. She gently pushed Osro forward.
Despite all that he had been through, Osro trotted a few steps forward as soon as his mother nudged him towards A'mor. He wore a big grin as he stared up at the healer. He was feeling very tired, but that didn't do much to sway the brightening of his mood. He had the wonderful gift of not understanding what was happening. As all the events of the evening drifted from his mind and he simply stared at the grayrider, he could smile. He wanted to sleep, but that didn't matter. Visiting the cold and empty room with the green to the side that his mommy wouldn't let him see was better than going to sleep. He looked mostly fine and he was mostly fine. He might get scared later, when he thought about it, but the only real signs of what had happened to him lay in some bruising on his scalp and one scratch he'd gotten from beating Y'nis with a stick.
Fajra stood back, doing her best to continue to look as intimidating as possible so her son would get a proper look over before her. The childish freckles that dotted her nose were beginning to feel especially prominent to her in that moment. She was slipping. The cut on her cheek was still clotted, but it had left blood all over her face, actually covering up a great many of her freckles. The larger and deeper wound across her chest was still seeping blood. Despite her own awareness of her injuries, she tried to hold out. Her son was more important. Even as sheer, mind killing exhaustion began to threaten to set in upon her, she attempted to glower. The only thing that helped her look as commanding as she wanted was the lurking presence of Kalith. However, the copper wasn't exactly pleased by her rider's state. She let out a grumbling, hoarse hiss.
You're getting sadder, getting sadder, Getting sadder, getting sadder. And I don't understand, And I don't understand.
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