Xanadu Weyr - Infirmary
The infirmary here is intended for human care. It is spotless and smells of disinfectant, cots are lined up against one wall, a curtain can be pulled to give some privacy to the occupants of the cots if they so desire. A cabinet stands off against another wall, instruments and medications stored against when they will be needed. A couple of curtained off beds are used for examinations of patients and the treatment of minor injuries which won't require long term care. A desk with chair is just off of the doorway for the healer to sit and catch up on record keeping after a long days work.

It's rather past midnight. [[[player:Mur'dah]] left a while ago, called back to work, and for that period of time Jethaniel was alone with Darsce, the Healers, and their periodic vital checks. Mur'dah did his work, forced himself to eat, clean up, a few other things… Tried to sleep but couldn't, and now he's back, peeking around the edge of the curtain. "Jethaniel?" he asks quietly, his eyes shifting from his sister's prone form to her husband's.

While the healers certainly are monitoring the situation, this has mostly involved Jethaniel being alone with Darsce… or as alone as he can be, given the only thing separating him from the rest of the infirmary is that curtain. Darsce is still here. So is Jethaniel… mostly. He's changed his position since Mur'dah left, slumped sideways in the chair. He might be asleep, or at least dozing, but not enough so that his fingers have lost their hold on Darsce… and not enough that he doesn't stir at the sound, lifting his head and blinking his eyes into resolution. "…ah. Mur'dah." He regards the brownrider for a moment, then gives him a slight nod and glances back to Darsce. "She is the same."

Mur'dah steps into the little alcove, pulling the curtain back behind him. "Ah," he says, looking at his sister before he takes another step, rubbing at his face. Then his hand falls to offer Jethaniel's shoulder a squeeze. "Mind if I sit for a bit?"

Jethaniel's gaze leaves Darsce as Mur'dah reaches for him, looking up once more as that hand rests on his shoulder. There's a twitch of his lips at the question, followed by a moment's silence. "It is… not precisely a sensical question." He turns his head slowly, looking back to Darsce. "You are, however, her brother."

Mur'dah hesitates, already a bit confused. "A…sensical…" What? He scrubs at his face again. "I can leave if you don't want me here," he says, glancing at Darsce again with a small frown.

"You wish to be here." Jethaniel looks up to Mur'dah again, as if looking for confirmation of his statement - though surely Mur'dah's presence indicates it. "She is your sister." He frowns, lowering his gaze from brother in law to look once more at Darsce.

Mur'dah glances at Darsce and then back to Jethaniel. "Yes, all true," he agrees, "but do /you/ want me here."

Jethaniel closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again to look once more at Mur'dah. "That is irrelevant." Or so he claims. "You are here." He lifts his other hand, vaguely indicating across where the other chair is still wherever Mur'dah left it.

Mur'dah frowns, though he moves over to sit in the chair with a soft grunt, reaching out to take Darsce's hand. "It's not irrelevant," he mutters. "This is your space, she's your wife. If you don't want me here, I'll leave. I'd be irritated, but I'd go." He rubs Darsce's hand gently between both of his own, watching her face and the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

As Mur'dah starts to move, Jethaniel looks back to Darsce. He watches her as her brother sits, listening - or at least not interrupting. He exhales slowly. "It is the healers' space." Which they've provided for Darsce, and those who spend this time with her. Mur'dah's said he would leave. "…where would you go?"

Mur'dah eyes him. Really? The Healer's space? But Mur'dah doesn't argue. Instead, he shrugs, "Back to my weyr? Stare at the ceiling some more. Or…take some late night deliveries for Comet. Or do paperwork in the barracks. Run on the beach? Crash at Marel's? I don't know." He glances at Jethaniel and then back to Darsce. "Do you need anything?" Though he's looking at her, he's speaking to him.

Jethaniel doesn't look up, but he does nod slightly to Mur'dah's list of possibilities. "She would…" He cuts the sentence off, lowering his head, and traces a fingertip along Darsce's hand as he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Does he need anything? Oh, yes… but Darsce remains unconscious. "I… do not think so."

"What would she…?" Mur'dah presses, glancing at Darsce and then over to Jethaniel. "Alright. Let me know."

Jethaniel glances up over Darsce, seeing Mur'dah for a moment. "She would go somewhere quiet. Somewhere alone." If, that is, she were the one sitting beside the bed instead of the one on it. Jethaniel's eyes move to Darsce's face, the profile of it as the brace holds her in place.

Mur'dah gently rubs her hand between his own. "Would she?" he asks, glancing over her body to his brother in law. "You don't think she'd stay?"

Jethaniel glances up to Mur'dah. "Stay for what?" he asks, and shakes his head slightly. "She would." He lowers his gaze once more, his lips twisting to the side as he regards Darsce's so-steady breathing. "But such things are not indefinite."

Mur'dah shrugs. "I don't know," he says honestly, rubbing her hands gently between his calloused ones, comparing her fingers to his, placing her palm across his and comparing the length of their fingers, wincing as he remembers another time. "You know her better than I do," he admits with a frown and a soft exhale.

A lack of knowledge is… perhaps one of the fundamental difficulties of this situation, and so Jethaniel nods to that, then glances to Mur'dah. "I… attempt to." He lowers his gaze, tracing along Darsce from head to fingertips. "I am only sometimes successful."

Mur'dah chuckles softly, nodding his head. "She's…wild and free. Hard to pin down. We had so much fun as kids, but…I guess I don't know her that well as an adult." Faranth he hopes he has a chance to learn. "What made you fall in love with her?"

Jethaniel half-smiles at Mur'dah's description of Darsce, his head dipping as he does. He traces his fingers along the back of her hand, then curls them over and rests them there. "She listens." Jethaniel smiles more fully for a moment, then gives his head a small shake. "That is… a remarkably incomplete answer."

Mur'dah smiles a bit, and then nods. "Go on." Pause. "I'm listening." There's a wry smile for that too, glancing at Darsce and then back to Jethaniel.

Jethaniel exhales slowly, his gaze remaining down and his hands still. "I have no coherent answer. She is…" He smiles. "…herself, in a way few are. She possesses a great deal of intentionality."

Mur'dah nods, continuing to stroke her hand. "She is. She does," he agrees. "She's…to me, amazing. I've always looked up to her. Someone who just knew who she was and did what she wanted, and…fuck everything else. Always looked up to her. Still do."

Jethaniel's smile pulls sideways as Mur'dah speaks, a wry expression as his hands ease into motion again, curling his fingers with Darsce's. The positioning is a familiar one, even though he has to place her own as well as his. "In a way." He hesitates, searching for words, then shakes his head slightly, looking up to Mur'dah. "What did she want?"

Mur'dah smiles a bit. "Everything?" he answers, looking up at her face as he slouches a bit to rest his elbows on the edge of the bed. "Fashion, the finer things in life. Freedom, I think. I spent some time modeling for her. She was always so poised, so beautiful, so put together and confident. She radiated confidence. Dad never liked her outfits but she didn't care, she did it anyway, because she liked them."

"Ah," Jethaniel says. Everything. It's a deceptively simple answer, and his thumb brushes over Darsce's fingers as he considers that and Mur'dah's further words of explanation. "So she was." He lifts her hand, brushing his lips to it before gently lowering it once again. "A study in perfections."

Mur'dah glances away when Jethaniel kisses her fingers. "And yet," he says quietly, looking at her face, "she wasn't perfect. And it was okay. She taught me that…mistakes were okay, so long as you owned up to them. She was approachable."

Darsce wasn't perfect? "I expect," Jethaniel says with a faint smile, "she would not be pleased to hear you say that." Not that he's claiming Darsce was - is - perfect, but… that smile is a fond one, indulgent in nature.

Mur'dah chuckles, "I'm sure she wouldn't be. But no one's perfect." She taught him that, in many different ways. Shifting a bit, he grips her hand in his, giving her fingers a squeeze. "Hear that, Darsce? You're not perfect but we love you anyway." His breath catches a bit. Steadies. "Come back to us…"

Darsce taught Mur'dah things about perfection. Mostly about looking perfect! She painted his toenails once. He wanted blue, but the closest thing she had to that color was purple. D'had called him a girly-man…

"Perhaps not," Jethaniel acknowledges. There's traces of his smile lingering, his fingers wandering slow paths over Darsce's. There's no plan to them; no scheme. He merely follows the inclinations of touch, and as Mur'dah pleads with his sister, Jethaniel simply observes their hands.

Mur'dah just nods, stifling a yawn against his sleeve as he continues to lean against the bed. Squeezing her hand again, he rests his head on his arm and drifts into silence.

The hour is a late one, and Jethaniel lets the silence stretch. Perhaps, if Mur'dah cannot find sleep in his bed, he'll find it here in between the healers' checks on vital signs. If not, there can be moments of other conversation, fragments of reminisce interspersed with that silence.

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