Comforting an Upset Belly

Xanadu Weyr - Candidate Barracks

A long, low ceiling room opens off the entrance hall to the arena, one wall slightly curved as it is set against the outer wall of the arena itself. Cots are set evenly the length of the room, in two rows, each with its own small press at the foot, for personal belongings. Wide windows are spaced along the outside wall, letting sunlight in, while other lights are available for the night time hours.

Natishen stumbles in through the door, looking a bit unsteady on his legs. His normally dark complexion has taken on a decidedly green cast - though not quite as vivid as his eyes. He bumps into one Candidate, offering a pat on his arm in apology while looking around the barracks. "Phy- Phylicia?" He thinks that's the right name, anyway. "Is Phylicia in here?"

Jessamin looks up from where she sits on the edge of her cot, her legs curled beneath her, a gold flit on her shoulder, and her quilting hoop in hand. Caught within the hardwood circle is a small quilt, sized right for a baby or a young child, in hexagons of myriad hues in no particular arrangement. The needle in her hand is poised above the fabric, as if she were frozen in time. But she replies, "I think so… what's wrong, you look terrible!" Her brows furrow in an expression of concern, and she sets the hoop down on the cot next to her. The flit just tightens her grip on her human perch's shoulder, squawking once. MINE!

Phylicia just happens to be one of the few people currently in the barracks, some of the others either at another touching, or doing some of their evening chores and duties. The ex-healer is currently rummaging in her trunk at the foot of her cot, emerging as her name is called with a folded wad of white in one hand, and a sewing kit in the other. "I'm right here." She pipes up, shoving some of her hair out of her face as she takes a good look at Nash. Something obviously isn't right. "Shells!" Wait. Healers aren't supposed to do that. "What's wrong?" She says, echoing Jessamin.

Natishen makes his way to his cot and collapses onto it, the frame creaking alarmingly as he sits down heavily. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands, muffling the response that comes. "My belly's all upset. I heard you was a healer a'fore you got Searched, maybe you can help?" He lifts his head to look hopefully at the other Candidate, before sneaking an apologetic glance at Jessamin. "Ain't catching," he assures her. "I just - well, don' want this to get back t' Miss Thea or D'had, hear?"

Jessamin raises an eyebrow, looking more and more concerned by the second. "Well… what was the last thing you ate?" Fabric goes flying at that moment as a little bronze head pops up out of her scrap bag, the mischievous flit having gotten into her things. Again. Jessamin simply rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and looks over to Phylicia while somehow managing to keep her eyes from narrowing -too- much. "Phy? You're the Healer among us."

"WAS the healer." Phylicia murmurs as she sets down the things in her hands, walking over to Nash with concern on her features. She's apparently not going to argue the details right now, however as she crouches next to the boy. "Did you eat something bad?" She questions softly, wondering. Either way, she's crossing the room again, going for a personal satchel as Estevan - her fun-loving, red-capped brown - wings over to Jessamin's mischievous little bronze, chirpping inquisitively. A few moments and she's crossing the room again, holding a sliver of something out to Nash. "Chew on this." Ah, ginger.

Bahrain cheeps at the red-capped brown, flinging a piece of crimson cotton in the air. Playtime!

Natishen reaches out to take the sliver, frowning consideringly at it. "Wasn't something I ate," he mumbles. "See…" and here he trails off, clearly trying to get his thoughts in order. "I- I was flyin'. With D'had and Miss Thea. Siebeth said he wanted t' test me and make sure I was right t' be a Candidate like he thought earlier, so they took me up. And we went up," and he mimes a straight perpendicular approach from his knee to the air, "and down," and his hand dives, again at a right angle. "And then we had lots of twists and turns." Even the corkscrew motions of his hand have his face going a little greener, and he blows out his cheeks a little, swallows audibly, then pops the ginger in his mouth. As he chews, he adds, "I felt okay after for a little bit, but then I was walkin' and all the excitement just drained out and my belly -" The small, somewhat dainty belch that follows describes his current reaction perfectly.

Estevan looks at that piece of crimson cotton, and the brown's butt wiggles before he's pouncing at it in mid-air, wings flared. Catching it, the brown rumble-chortles, winging off with it.

Bahrain cackles as the cotton is taken away, plucking a piece of a brilliantly-hued goldenrod batik scrap from the bag and waddling out with it. Catch me if you can!

Jessamin just groans as her scrap bag becomes the target of 'lizard chicanery. "Great. 'Lizard see, 'lizard do. Now the whole faire will be in on it." She reaches for the bag to close it, while keeping an eye and ear still on Natishen and his tale. "Sounds like fun." And she's not turning green around the gills, either!

Phylicia's eyes light up with a bit of unvoiced laughter as she looks at the younger boy, kindly withholding the actual laughter. "Chew on that anyways. Ginger helps with upset stomachs in general. Sea sickness and airborne sickness included." She's off again, this time a little longer as she dips a cloth in one of the basins generally used for wiping ones hands or face down. Wringing out most of the moisture she also motions for him to lay down. "Keep chewing and put this either on your eyes, or your forehead. Whichever feels better." It's no laughing matter, but she can't help it as she chuckles slightly. "I could have told you not to accept ANY flight from Siebeth. He's a notorious flyer!"

So it's like tag, but with two pieces of cloth? Thankfully neither Ciaran nor Hinae from Phylicia's flock join in, as Estevan cavorts around the room, diving after Bahrain in an attempt to tag him with the bit of red cotton.

Bahrain lets the yellow cotton flutter to the ground, intrigued more by Estevan's aerial acrobatics than with keeping possession of a fluttering trinket. Ooo, let's see if we can catch the red flag!

"But it was wonderful!" Nash replies, perhaps a bit injudiciously as the inadvertant shout causes his head to start pounding - right on cue. Gingerly accepting the cloth, he stretches out on his cot, pressing the moist fabric to his eyes as he squirms to make himself comfortable, finally reaching back to flip out his braid before settling in. "I had loads of fun - I'd love t' go again. I'll be better next time," he declares stoutly, then groans slightly and offers another burp. "'Scuse me. Miss Moyra says its not polite t' do that in front of ladies, but I can't help it." He lifts the cloth long enough to see if either Candidate is offended by his lack of manners, the one green eye that shows shining apologetically.

Mikado eyes the goings on from his perch upon the young Nash's cot with a stern expression, wings rustling with disapproval at the antics of the ther firelizards. Nearby, Chanteuse is too busy hovering over her human, trying to croon the boy back into good health to worry about what mischief is afoot.

Jessamin uncurls her legs, trying to look disgusted at the flizzen pair in the air, but cannot hide the twinkle of amusement in her azure eyes. She gets up from her cot, picking up a folded nine-patch quilt at the foot of it. "I've heard worse." Bahrain's antics force her to duck, scurrying across the barracks to Natishen's cot in an odd sort of bent over position, curling herself around the quilt as if protecting a baby in her arms. "Not sure if this will help… or if your 'lizard will let me put it around you."

Estevan trills in delight as now it's turned into a game of chase! The red-capped brown chirrups down at Mikado as if to say 'How can you enjoy life if you don't play a little?' before he's zooming off to the rafters, perching there for a moment as he waits to see how Bahrain comes at him.

Bahrain spreads his wings wide, soaring upward in lazy circles instead of shooting up like an arrow. His whole attitude seems to say, 'ho hum, let's see if he'll be fooled'.

Phylicia looks at Nash for a moment, shaking her head. "I've personally never done any of the fancy aerobatics while flying." She notes absently, dismissing the boy's belching and burping with a wave of her hand. "Not only have I heard worse, I've helped treat worse." On those occasions the journeymen actually let the seniors help. "A little burping is nothing. And actually sort of natural in this case. You probably have a little bit of gas or something caught in your stomach. I promise it'll pass." She's watching him lay down, and watching his color, to see if there's any immediate improvement. "Any better?" She just decides to ask.

Estevan watches Bahrain do those lazy circles. But no, the brown isn't tricked! While the bronze is the farthest away, Este dives from the rafters, zooming under his human's cot.

Bahrain bugles just as loud as he can, snapping his wings in close to his body and diving to follow Estevan. That.. will.. be.. mine!

Satoris enters from the entrance hall.

Satoris has arrived.

"Better, thank you," Nash replies politely, and indeed, the green tinge seems to be retreating, leaving his complexion the color of klah-with-cream again. He presses the cloth briefly to his eyes, then pulls it away in surprise, eyeing Jessamin and the quilt. "Oh - thank you," he offers to her, with a shy smile. Chanteuse chirps at the woman, cocking her head briefly to study her before she flutters down to land next to Mikado - just a touch too close. This sparks both firelizards to spiral into the air, chirping furiously at each other. The boy doesn't even notice their antics, engrosed in studying the quilt. "It's very nice - but I think I'm feeling better, an' I'm not quite ready to rest yet." Time for his second wind, it seems, as he pushes himself up, rubbing the heel of his hand between his eyes before smoothing back his hair. "Did you make that?" he asks curiously - just before he gives another soft burp, causing his cheeks to flood with color.

Jessamin nods once, a blush coming to her own cheeks. "It was one of my first, and not even really my best. Phylicia's Craft uses needle and thread in a different way than mine." With the refusal of the quilt, she steps back, keeping it folded up in her arms—and just missing stepping on two firelizard tails. "Whoahh…!!! Careful, you two!"

Estevan squeaks at Bahrain manages to briefly catch a snippit of his tail, and there's a little scrambling as the red piece of cotton is dropped underneath the cot, and the brown takes off again, perching on a nearby cot.

Bahrain trumpets his triumph as he snatches up the forgotten piece of red cloth, claws scrabbling on the hard floor as he waddles out from under Phylicia's cot. Mine, mine, all mine!

As Nash goes to push himself up, Phylicia stops him with a hand on the center of his chest, gently pushing him back down. "Too bad." She says with an impish grin as she rearranges the blanket a little bit. A properly fussy healer. "Stay down for at least another ten minutes, and put that cloth back on your eyes." The tone is kind, but not one to be argued with. Phylicia starts as the pair keep their antics up, and Phy's patience snaps. "Estevan! Enough!" This sends the brown skulking under the blankets to whomever's cot this is, whether or not there's an occupant there. Jessamin gets a grin from the ex-healer. "I personally try to stay away from the thread and needle. I'm horrible."

Natishen stares at Phylicia as she presses him back down, clearly astonished. He feels fine, after all! However, his indignant attempt to tell her so is foiled when he opens his mouth by a loud belch. Closing his eyes and laying back, cheeks flaming in embarassment, he unfolds the cloth and uses it to cover his whole face. If you can't see him, maybe he isn't really here. Childish logic, but then - he himself is not so long out of childhood. Mikado and Chanteuse forget their quarreling long enough to come to rest again by the lad's side, eyeing the healer-turned-candidate with equally thoughtful expressions. Then the bronze chirps and curls up by Nash's head, while the green begins preening her wings. "Ugh. Tell me when I can get up," the boy finally sighs, his words muffled but still distinguishable from behind the cloth.

Satoris steps into the barracks after one of his many chores, looking like death warmed over. He heads over to his cot; near the door and impeccably clean and organized. He slouches onto it, hunching over and putting his elbows on his knees. After a few moments, he realizes there are others there and…uh… strange going ons. He looks up and blinks. "What are you doing?"

Jessamin unfurls the quilt anyways, approaching Natishen's cot long enough to drape it over as much of him as his firelizards will allow. "You know, rest isn't such a bad thing, after a fright." Phylicia's loud disapproval of the flizzen antics has her letting out a quick whistle, catching Bahrain's attention. "Enough of that. You've had your fun." Her tone, however, is not entirely disapproving, but rather, bears the hint of a smile. "Come on now, behave. You know better." To Phylicia, she says dryly, "Kind of like M'nol when we both Stood here last. I had to bail him out of mending more than once."

Phylicia is the one to look over at Satoris as he questions their doing. "Nothing much." The girl beams at the older candidate, until she notices Satoris' state. "Though, what's gotten into you?" Is it a night for not feeling well or something? The two little 'lizards at Nashes side get a grin. "Five minutes, and we'll see, yeah?" She offers before grinning at Jessamin. "I know enough to patch something. Just … don't expect me to /make/ anything." That gets to be a downright disaster.

You know, if Natishen were a bit older - and actually going through puberty instead of teetering right on the cusp of it, he might appreciate being tended to by two young, female Candidates. As it is, he's just young enough to find it a hassle rather than a gift of Providence. "I really feel okay," he insists to Phylicia, lifting a corner of the cloth to peer at her with one bright green eye, gaguing her reaction. As Jessamin tucks the quilt about his legs and lower torso, he grimmaces - an expression fortunately hidden by the damp cloth, but politely doesn't muss her work. "Jus' needed some air and that stuff you gave me - it worked real nice." He hasn't even burped late- whoops. There goes another one. Or maybe that was in greeting to Satoris, who is treated to a rather embarassed glance with the one eye not covered by the rag over his face.

"Just tired," Satoris answers, almost harshly. He draws in a long breath and sits up straighter, rubbing at his forehead for a moment. "What's wrong with him?" He gestures at Natishen, trying to get a good look at the boy without getting to his feet.

Jessamin says "Siebeth happened." What more needs to be said? Jessamin tries her best to keep the amusement from her tone, in deference to a young man's pride. "Oh, Phy… as for the robe, I'd be glad to help with that. Should shake mine out anyways and make sure it's in good enough condition to wear on the Sands again. Never thought I'd be doing that again…"

"Oh, would you? What would you like to trade?" Phylicia asks of Jessamin as the other girl offers. Can't get something for nothing after all. Nash, however, gets a look that must be part of being a Healer. It says pretty clearly to stay down. "The moment you can go five minutes without burping, you can sit up." That's her current requirement. And Satoris' answer has her blinking. "Alright, fair enough."

Natishen drags the cloth up so it rests on his forehead and is frowning at Satoris, blinking several times. Though he looks like he'd like to say something, however, he keeps his mouth shut, instead turning an outrageously, and patently false, cheerful expression to Phylicia. "You're the one who knows best," he says with deceptive docility, then falls silent. Actually, his lips pinch closed, as if by doing so he can hold any incipent belches in through strength of will, and locked jaw, alone. It just might work, too. At least, he doesn't seem to be inclined to let another loose. He does look a little foolish, however, with his tight jaw, his thinned lips, and eyes squinted with the effort of - what is he doing? Holding his breath? Not for long, as it takes only a minute before he releases it with a gasp - but no burp, at least not yet.

Satoris just shakes his head slightly as he's given the vague answers. A long breath is taken and he stretches out on the cot, folding his arms behind his head. He stares at the ceiling, but his eyes keep absently drifting closed.

"You'll do better if you don't hold your breath." Phylicia gently admonishes Nash before she chuckles, eyeing Satoris. Maybe he has the right of it. "Anyways, I've done what I can for you. Just.. take it easy. Don't be in such a rush." She advises as she trails back over to her own cot. Jessamin? She gets a grin from the ex-healer-girl and a little wave of the hand. "We'll discuss terms later, but I'll definitely take you up on it."

Natishen wrinkles his nose at Phylicia, but his grin is pure sugar. "Thank you, Phylicia," he says sincerely as he tugs the cloth from his head and lays it carefully over the rail of his cot to dry. "Sorry t' interrupt your evenin' with such foolishness - but you made me feel lots better." Offering a cheeky grin, he settles back in his bed, content to lay flat for a few more minutes yet.

Satoris rolls his head on his neck, looking back along the barracks to Phylicia and Natishen. His brow furrows slightly. "Fighting's not allowed," he points out. He's still not sure what really went o.

"Wasn't fighting," Nash replies after a long moment of staring at the ceiling and - oddly - regretting the absense of his two nurses. "Went riding. On Siebeth," he clarifies. "We went up and down an' through a lot of loops, and everything was great… and then my belly got all upset." He pats the offending body part testingly, then with a bit more pressure. When he produces no more burps or belches, he carefully undoes the quilt over his legs and slides out of the cot, glancing over his shoulder towards where Phylicia went. No sign she's noticed, at least. "I don't fight." He pauses for a moment, touching his right eye, though the earlier bruise has since faded. "Get hit sometimes, though."

Satoris grunts slightly, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles for a moment. "What you doing to get yourself hit so much?" he asks, eventually looking up to the ceiling again. "Might wanna learn to hit back at that point. I think defending yourself gets you out of trouble, but… whoever is hitting you ought to be punished."

Snickers sound from deeper into the barracks at Satoris's question, and Natishen hunches his his shoulders. "I'm jus' small," he mumbles, as he gets unsteadily to his feet. He pauses a moment, finding his balance, then slides his feet into his sandals and picks up the quilt from the foot of the cot, bundling it into his hands. He glances towards Jessamin's cot, then carefully approaches Satoris. "If I try and hit back," he confides, too quietly for the bullies beyond to hear, "they'll just hit me worse. Someday, though…" His jaw tightens slightly, as do his fingers, until he looks down to his quilt-filled hands and consciously relaxes both. "Here. Y'don't look so happy. Maybe this'll make you feel better? It did me." He holds out the quilt, gazing inquiringly at the older man.

"I'm just tired," Satoris repeats. Why doesn't anyone believe him? "Between Miner duties and the chores they assign us, I just haven't had much downtime." He stifles a yawn with his fist, looking Natishen over. He shrugs a bit, sitting up slowly. "Even small, you can learn to fight back. Bullies just do what they do for the sake of having someone to lord over." A glance in the diretion he heard the snickers. "I can make sure it's reported, you know."

Natishen places the quilt near Satoris' cot, just in case the Candidate decides he wants the comfort of it. "You still have to do your old duties?" he asks, eyes widening slightly. "Wow. That's must leave you all sorts of tired. Maybe I should let you sleep." At the mention of the bullies, however, his own eyes slide in that same direction, his expression shifting towards anxious. "Oh no, please. Someday, I'll be too big t' pick on, but right now," and he spreads his hands, indicating his own gawky body. "An'…" He trails off, hesitating, then confides in a low voice, "if they're pickin' on me, they ain't hurtin' the real little ones."

"They have no place in candidacy," Satoris insists, frowning at Natishen… then past him towards where the bullies are. "It's… admirable to watch over the younger ones, but you shouldn't keep putting yourself at risk." He does glance to the quilt, but resists for a time longer.

"I should let you rest." Clearly, Satoris' tiredness is not the issue here, but the very sensitive topic of bullying. "And you're right," he adds as he begins to draw away, leaving the quilt behind. "They don't. But the dragons wanted them here. Who am I to say they're wrong? The dragon always knows - that's the first thing they tell you when you ask how they Impressed, you know. The riders, that is. The dragon always knows, and the dragon never chooses wrong." He flicks a glance over his shoulder, to the three weyrborn boys - nay, young men - who watch the pair of them with narrowed eyes. "Thank you," he says, though he doesn't say for what - likely, just for caring. "I need some… fresh air."

Satoris watches Natishen go. He glances towards the bullies and scowls a moment. Thoughtful. Finally he does end up grabbing the quilt and settles in for some napping. Or maybe a full sleep.

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