Xanadu Weyr - Dragonhealers' Annex
An entranceway which would allow admittance to even the greatest of queen dragons leads from the clearing into a chamber which would house half-a-dozen of the same size. There's a smaller human-sized door near it, and the massive dragon-sized door is equipped with a clever set of counterweights to permit one person to open it when needed.

Just to one side of the door, a shallow pool has a constant gentle flow of water, pumped and filtered to be used in washing wounds. Nearby, stone shelves hold a generous supply of clean bandages and sheets, as well as redwort, numbweed, and the metal implements used for surgery. The other side of the chamber is taken up by an alcove with multiple banks of computers to house medical records and help to diagnose illness and injury in the Dragons who come for aid. Within this alcove is a small medical laboratory where medicines and herbs can be prepared and experiments can take place.

The far wall houses two dozen dragon-couches. A thick curtain can be drawn around each along a rail mounted in the ceiling to allow patients the option of privacy as they rest and recover, and there are chairs set beside them for anxious riders to sit and comfort their lifemates.

One of those couches, off in the corner, has been replaced with a large metal box. This curtain is usually kept drawn, but behind it is the artificial incubator, filled with sand from the main hatching arena. It's as wide as a human is tall, and perhaps thrice as long. Riveted sides rise halfway up the shin and are lined with wires of various hues that fuel each of the miniature units used to heat the artificial sands. Each cord has been secured to the side of the box, effectively keeping it out of the range of passersby.

It's not like any of Xanadu's queens are unfamiliar with regular check ups with the dragonhealers, but Inasyth has been a particular common face these days as the youngest gold's first clutch should be laid just about any day now. Inasyth proudly waddles her way in, right on time, announcing her arrival for the pre-arranged appointment with a loud warble which Rhodelia was prepared enough to cover her ears for. "You'd have thought you weren't just here three days ago."

What Xanadu's dragonhealers may be unfamiliar with, however, is the PROUD PAPA TO BE- oh, no? They've seen that before? A protective one? Oh, that too. Well, then they should be COMPLETELY PREPARED to deal with THE RESPLENDANT DISPLAY OF GLORY AND VALOR RIGHT AT THEIR DOOR. At least Glorioth and his obnoxious noise have been convinced to stay just outside to STAND GUARD, to VALIANTLY PROTECT his queen, the dam of his eggs, the— you get the picture. This, of course, does not keep him from ACTIVELY PARTICIPATING just because he's out there and they're in here, but it's not like Glorioth's never been examined or treated here, so the hunch of F'yr's shoulders as his arms cross over his chest might be more to do with being an anxious clutchsire's rider than with the antics of his bronze as she moves into the space to join Rhodelia.

Inasyth is practically radiating her own form of pride at these eggs-to-be and she'll be sure to share her own color-commentary of the ongoings with Glorioth so he won't miss a beat even from outside the door. « OH LOOK. WE GET TWO HEALERS TODAY. AIN'T THAT SPECIAL??? » Technically it's a dragonhealer and a trainee, but not like that technicality phases the gold as she streeeetches herself as if she owns the place. Rhodelia doesn't really notice F'yr's approach at first, too busy staring at her lifemate's now-bulging sides, but once the bronzerider is close enough, she'll offer a friendly hipcheck. "How're you doing?"

« TWO?! » This is a change in routine. This brings an enormous bronze head through that even more enormous opening, eyes whirling with splashes of anger as hackles rise. IS THE FOE HERE? WITHIN?! SNUCK IN AS A TRAINEE DRAGONHEALER PERHAPS?! « SEND THE SHIFTY-EYED ONE TO ME! » And this is why F'yr is here, as much as for moral support, leaning into meet that hipcheck of Rhody's. "I've got it, Glori." Given that the dragon CONTINUES TO STARE DOWN THE POOR TRAINEE, this might not appear to be sufficient reassurance but after a moment F'yr suggests, "I'd hate to think this was a distraction, but…" aloud, for group benefit, since they're all hearing at least part of what the bronzerider is no doubt getting much worse in his head. POOF goes the big bronze head though, because WHAT IF. F'yr makes a carry on gesture to the healers who hopefully haven't been disturbed from their work anyway. "I'm fine." He claims to Rhodelia then; he's been fine, since the explosion. Spoiler alert: he's not fine, but as with when he suffered privately with the struggles from home during weyrlinghood, he's locked it all up and maybe isn't sure where to find the key. "You? Ina?" He cants his head. No one ask how Glorioth is; the hostage rider won't be able to answer honestly in his presence anyway, not with the way all his overzealous protective instincts are grounded RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

« TWO ARE BETTER THAN ONE!!! » Inasyth's champagne bubbles splash over towards her mate even as she's affectionately nudging at both the dragonhealer and the trainee and pushing them towards her belly with her head and not at all out towards the bronze. « I SWEAR I THINK THERE MUST BE LIKE FIFTEEN EGGS IN THERE! I COUNTED. » And lost track and just started picking up random numbers, but twelve seems right to her with how much she's been eating. Rhodelia's eyebrow quirks up at F'yr's Fine-ness, but she doesn't question it beyond that. Not the place and not the time. She just shrugs for her own well being. "As alright as can be, I guess. Although I think maybe someone has been giving her a few too many squished midnight snacks." Rhody knows Ina hasn't been slipping into the feeding grounds, but she does know there has been plenty of mystery snacks based on some tell-tale bloody snout in the morning.

« ONE HUNDRED AT THE VERY LEAST! » All the distractions do seem to serve, but this one best of all. After all, those eggs are the literal embodiment of the proof of his virility. « YOU ARE ENORMOUS, MY BEHEMOTH BASTION OF BABIES. » This a compliment. Glorioth really can't be said to be affectionate, not really, not ever, but he can be said to be pridefully protective of his prize the gold, so that's… well. It's the best he's got. It's fine. F'yr looks a little tempted to, in fact, go closer to the dragonhealers to overhear the commentary between healer and trainee as any anxious parent might hover over a regular healer in similar check-ups, but though his eyes track them, he remains with Rhodelia on the imaginary sidelines. He does pich his voice low in answer to this, "Listen, I've talked him out of one per imagined egg to one per night on the nights he thinks about it, because he's convinced the math works out." DO NOT ASK ABOUT GLORIOTH DOING MATH. JUST IMAGINE IT FOR YOURSELF; IT'S BETTER THAT WAY. "Do I need to do more?" Could he? Hasn't he tried everything?

It really is fine considering Inasyth isn't a very demanding gold and she's perfectly will to accept a compliment based on the intent and not the actual words. Besides… who wouldn't be proud of these eggs? THEY'RE GONNA BE FANTASTIC? And look, the gold is HUGE and even huger than usual in the egg-heavy and possibly overfed state of the day. There's plenty of room to be at her side without actually being in the way of the dragonhealer's inspection. It's not like Rhodelia's straying too far, keeping a hand on the expanded flank. "It's only a few more nights. Let them have their fun." She shrugs it off. "Might just mean we," That's directed more towards the gold then at F'yr and Glorioth, "might have to do a lot more exercising after this is all done."

"Well, she's always welcome to join him." Faranth knows that Glorioth is always flying around or otherwise charging here there and everywhere. … except right now, which may be a problem in the coming sevens. But, LISTEN, that's a problem for future F'yr and future Rhody. Today's pair has other problems. "Do you think she'll want us to come be there?" He could just as Ina, since she's right there but for now he'll ask Rhody because he's talking with Rhody. "If it happens when he's asleep, I'm not sure he'll believe they're his." This is concerning because this is the same dragon who does not always recall that his sire is, in fact, also his Weyrleade and very much alive.

"Of course!" Rhodelia's answer is so quick it might as well be a reflex. "You have been making your party hats, right? Glorioth will need to have one too." Custom made dragon party hats mandatory although thankfully they come equipped with their own built in party horns. "They say it can take a day or even three. Especially for a first time dam…" The tawny hide underneath Rhody's hand suddenly flexes a bit as on the other side, one of the draonghealer pair has brought out a giant stethescope for listening. « HAHAHAHA. THAT'S COLD. DO IT AGAIN! » Rhody rolls her eyes a bit. "They can't really listen if you keep yelling, Ina." The gold gives a snort but at least for the moment her inner (and outer) monologue quiets to mostly just the ever present little bubbles.

F'yr's blank look is not reassuring. He probably had notes about party hats… somewhere. "I think they were destroyed in the explosion." Notice how his expression is suddenly very convincingly grieved. SURELY THEY WERE THE BEST, MOST BRILLIANT OF ALL PARTY HATS. Nevermind that… well, F'yr's habit of being less than enthusiastic about any plan that requires a special wardrobe is starting to be apparent for anyone who's been paying attention to the minimal effort he puts into any such requirements. « QUIET YOURSELF, MY BOISTROUS BABY-MAKER. » Glorioth's HEROICALLY LOUD LET'S-NOT-CALL-IT-SHOUTING-BUT-IT'S-DEFINITELY-SHOUTING is helpful, right? « THEY MUST HEAR THE SOUND OF LEGENDS ABOVE OUR- » he'll share since she's holding his babies and is thus extended the quality, « -GLORIOUS GLORIOCITY. » It's challenging enough without adding mundane noise to it, too, like two dragons with NO VOLUME CONTROL WHATSOEVER. Oh, did someone need him to turn the off-key theme music down? No such luck, he simply turns it outward instead if into the Annex… although, there are echoes of his greatness that ripple to the farthest bounds of the realm, obviously (meaning, his immediate attention range).

Oh no. That was definitely not the right response as Inasyth's head rapidly swivles to stare DOWN at the bronzerider. « WELL GOOD THING YOU HAVE TIME TO MAKE SOME MORE! I'M NOT HAVING THESE BABIES UNTIL EVERYBODY'S GOT HATS!!! AND HATS FOR THE EGGS TOO. » They might be able to negotiate away from the eggs for the freshly shelled, but not for both parents and riders since Ina's got her own priorities. Rhody just rubs a hand against her temple. "I have some leftover material if you need it." Of course she does. She might as well have a whole arts and crafts room stored away in her barn somewhere except without the actual walls making it a room. "She's serious about it."

F'yr's blue eyes meet Inasyth's much larger whirling one. It's not to the gold to whom he speaks, again, though this time it's because there's the much more logical reason that some dragons like their clutch siblings are impossible to reason with and their riders end up having to get creative. "Material is not going to help the problem." Does Rhodelia follow his meaning? "We should probably talk about it later." When dragons aren't primed to get into a throw down fight because Glorioth is not wearing a hat and Inasyth is requiring him to. That F'yr's lips are pressing together that way means there's about a dozen things he'd like to say but has deemed it unwise to articulate here and now.

« Well, if material's not a problem, I can't wait to see your hat! » Inasyth takes that as problem solved. Maybe F'yr and Glorioth will get lucky and the gold will forget all about hats in the excitement of clutching. Probably not, but it could happen and since the discussion is over as far as she's concerned, she goes back to staring at the dragonhealers who have whipped out the tape measure now. "We'll have plenty of time to talk later." Rhodelia shrugs. Maybe not plenty of time before eggs actually arrive, but definitely after that. "Everything will be alright." She has to just keep telling herself that.

F'yr blows out a slow breath, and under that he says so softly, "This is going to go poorly." Because who wouldn't want their first serious fight to be when the eggs come, and perhaps not even just Inasyth's and Glorioth's but…. well, maybe even Rhodelia's and F'yr's, because time will show that F'yr… he's on Glorioth's side with this one. He's not even sorry. "Maybe I should go," is louder, "let you two focus," as if Rhodelia has much to do with the check-up at this moment. It's a silly thing, right? Hats. And yet… it seems to be the straw that's brought F'yr from coping with life to not, his jaw set expression stormy. It is probably one of the most unwise statements he's made to date to let slip past lips not strong enough to keep the words in, "All that and now sharding hats." Rough translation: flame this, F'yr's tapping out.

Rhodelia tilts her head as she catches some of F'yr's grumbling, but more confused than anything. Four hats are infinitely easier to provide than a Weyr-wide ice cream/costume party with only a seven's notice in the middle of summer. But since he's suggesting leaving, she shrugs. "They'll be almost finished soon anyways. I'll let you know if they say anything different than the last couple visits…" If he thought she'd ask him to stay… nope. It's been a long couple of days and nobody has time for extra emotional shenanigans today. And if things might be a little bit frosty when they run into each other in the office later… that's only to be expected when surrounded by the aftermath of council-explosion, right?

Did he think she'd ask him to stay? Judging by the simple nod from F'yr, probably not. This wasn't a bid for attention: it was a man hitting the end of his rope. Who knew party hats could pack such a punch? So he's going and his dragon? Well, Glorioth's not going anywhere shy of being forced to, but if his rider suggests to him that he should take wider ranging sweeps around the Weyr than usual for the rest of the day to try to mitigate contact… less Glori is glorious, right?

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