Eastern Riders, Close Calls, and Sorrows

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.

"I know you feel cold right now, but you have a fever and I need to bring it down." Laera explains of the cold towels placed on the chest. She helps hold the tea cup as it is brought to his lips, one arm around him to keep him upright as he drinks. At the questions given to her she touches upon his cheek lightly, "Just means you got some bugs in your chest and this drink will help kill them. You have to fight hard and listen to what the healers tell you…and I will make sure you don't die from it." She says in a light voice. "It will make you want to cough up gunk on occasion as well, will get a bucket for your bedside. Don't fight it."

Just then, a tall dark blond man enters, his hair peppered with gray, wearing a knot with Eastern's colors complete with brown for his lifemate. He's older, perhaps in his late forties, early fifties. He's a regal, even handsome man in his later turns, his head held high. Trailing in his wake is a much younger slim man, also with a knot with Eastern colors, with green for his lifemate. He was decidedly beautiful with almost violet blue eyes and short spikey black hair; couldn't be more than twenty or so. The older of the two heads towards the front desk. "I'm E'lan, rider of brown Dreggoth. I am here to see my son, Pyriel." he introduces formally, while the younger man hangs back and looks around curiously. Neither of them seem overly concerned about the boy's state, as if this were merely a formality. Pyriel, on the other hand, was three beds down from Landers, connected to all sorts of machines. He was barely breathing thanks to a nice dose of pneumonia, and needed an oxygen mask. He had a high fever, was ashen skinned, clammy to the touch, and was in and out of consciousness thanks to delirium.

Landers frowns at the uncomfortable touch of the wet towel, sending chills down his body. The sailor though manages to take a few more sips of tea with the assistance Laera offers, the honey warming down his throat and settling in his belly. Yet the contrast between the warm tea and the cold towel is enough to continue the shudderings of his body. The realization that he could die from the 'bugs' in his chest make him drink deeper. "Sounds promisin," he murmurs as he settles back down, unable to swallow anymore of the tea for now, pushing the mug into Laera's hands.

Laera notices his reaction to the towel, "I am sorry, we have got to get the fever down." She murmurs and takes the cup from him as he finishes it. "Ok there, lay down now." She says gently and covers him up with his blanket, but leaving the wet towel in place. At the arrival of the Brownrider, Laera looks up to the men. The mention of Pyriel and the relationship draws a faint look of surprise, but she rises from the bed of Landers and nods, "Xanadu's duties to Eastern and her queens." She offers in the riders formal greeting before motioning him back to Pyriel's bed, "He has taken a bad bout of Pneumonia and we are doing all we can for him." She informs the man.

Ryeokie lies in the bed directly right of the small harper. For the past few days he's been slipping in and out of consciousness, but he's not in a condition as bad as the rest. Numerous cuts and scrapes cover the crafter from head to toe. His hands and legs bearing the worst of it. Two thick, angry red gashes cross both palms, the wounds unbandanged as a nurse changes them. One leg is propped up on several pillows, cast in hardset plaster. The other bearing several long cuts from knee to foot, most wrapped in white strips of cloth. It's just as the nurse finishes with his hands and moves away, that the Ryeo wakes. Eyes open groggily and he takes a quick glance around the room, gaze finally coming rest on the unconcious harper. A strangled noise escapes from the crafter's throat as he takes in the machines and shallow breathing. The crafter makes a move to get out of the cot, but the rider's entrance stops in his tracks. Its almost possible to see the wheels churning in Ryeo's head, the worried look on Ryeo's face quickly turning to a worried smile. His voice rises, shaky as it carries across the room. "So now you care?" Blunt, almost rude. But that is Ryeo's way.

Landers listens obligingly, eyes tracking the bluerider when she leaves his bedside to question the arrival of another rider. Somewhere in the thickness of his feverish mind he tries to store the memory of the blond haired man away to question about it later, though he fails to follow the interaction beyond the first muffled words. Instead, his chin rolls to the side, regarding the other two crafters in their cots, a quiet sympathy in his eyes for them before his own gaze closes due to a bout of coughing that has the yellow-greenish phlem hacked up.

There was no doubt that this rather intimidating man was Pyriel's father, the similarities in their facial structure was difficult to deny. In his youth, this would of been a man that turned many a head. Cool light blue eyes come to rest on Laera as she greets them, a brow lifting ever so lightly. "Eastern duties to Xanadu and her queens." he purrs, but it's flat, again as if he were merely going through the motions. The greenrider behind pops out and salutes Laera with a grin, seeming a bit more lively than his counterpart. E'lan looks to where the bluerider is pointing and idly regards the boy in the bed, not appearing too concerned just how small and frail his son looks hooked up to things that whirl and beep. "Ah, thank you." he says at last, and heads that way, again, with the greenrider in toe. "E'lan is this going to take long?" he asks, very quietly as they come to stand at the end of the bed, seeming to take every opportunity to touch to rub the brownrider if he can. "I should think not." he says, disinterestedly peering down at his youngest, as if he was disappointed. To Ryeokie, E'lan doesn't even bother to turn to address. "Perhaps you should be minding your own business boy." The greenrider offers Ryeokie a smile, and a wink. Hi there cutie. Though Landers hacking and coughing gets their attention quickly, and the greenrider now clings to E'lan. "Shells, how disgusting! I hope it's not contagious." he hisses, inching away.

Ryeokie looks around the room a bit more as the riders go about their greeting, finalyl catching sight of Landers and giving his own sympathetic smile. But then they're addressing /him/ and the a surge of anger floods through him. Especially at the greenrider. Injured or not, the starcrafter swings his legs off the cot, the plaster coated right leg making a soft thunking sound as it lands. "Keep your wayward lover in check. And he's probably my business more than /yours/." If Ryeo had fur, it'd be raised. As it is, the starcrafter's voice is practically a hiss. But despite his harsh words, the young man is still weak. Ryeo sits on the edge of the bed, dark eyes glaring at the recently arrived pair. "And I hope it /is/ contagious. Landers, wanna try and cough at them?"

Laera looks over the man curiously, withholding any words she might offer to him. She has only heard a little from the mouth of the angry young man. Though the disinterested words do set her own hackles up. There is a look to Ryeokie and she shakes her head, "Don't get yourself riled up there.." She starts before those final words well that is finally enough to get Laera jumpstarted, "Only if you were caught in a storm, forced to fight to stay surfaced once your boat was torn asunder. Floating with water and debris in your lungs until you could be rescued while bodies floated around you. Then you might catch it." She says with an edge to her voice, "It seems your presence here is causing my patients distress. I can inform you when your son wakes up."

The feverish Landers forces his eyes open when he catches the tone not of Ryeokie, but of Laera. Even the other rider being squeamish around sick people doesn't earn his cool attention as does the bluerider. A deep rooted respect found a place in Landers' gaze for her. He does start to cough again, making a comment to Ryeokie to spite the visitors, "Could hork on 'em iffin ya want…" He manages a small wink until he has to settle back down on the bed, restless with the wet cloth on his chest, trying to still the groans that seep out regardless.

Pyriel wheezes and shutters, suddenly gasping for air in his unconscious state, causing both Eastern riders to refocus a moment. It's only for a couple heart stopping moments before it passes and his chest is very slowly rising and falling. E'lan didn't even blink. Instead he turns to Ryeokie and looks the boy over head to toe, "Ah." And that is all he says. The greenrider looks between the starcrafter and his step-son a few times and then giggles. "Guess you were right, love. Two points for you." They turn then, already on their way out as Laera and Landers speak their peace, cool blue eyes first settle on Laera, "No need. He's his mother's problem now. I don't expect to hear a word about this again, I hope I'm clear." he says in a flat bored tone, almost sounding like he was to complain about the weather. The greenrider? He yawns, after rubbing a finger up and down his weyrmate's chest. "He's got three other sons you know…" he giggles and then squeaks as Landers threatens to spit on them. "Shards, this place is really disgusting. Let's go E'lan." The two make for the door then, E'lan's hand caressing down the back of his greenrider weyrmate to cup one cheek before they disappear around the corner.

Laera is quick to Pyriel's bedside as he starts to gasp for air, settling once his breathing calms once more. She looks sharply up to the two riders then. "He is not a problem. It seems both of you are the problem and I would ask you again to leave." Laera says as she places her to her hips. The normally bubbly bluerider seems to have a button pushed. "You are quite clear rider." She says with a curt nod and stares him down until he turns to leave. She glances to Landers and Ryeokie, "Ok, everyone lay back down and let's settle ourselves." She says before glancing to the exit once more as expecting the offending riders to come back.

Ryeokie remains silent as the exchange between the riders continues, spent. Pyriel's sudden jerking has the crafter attempting to stand, and then falling quickly. He helplessly watches from his bed. Those glances the couple is giving though, they bring out another round of anger. Ryeokie glares at them, hissing through his teeth at the diappearing pair, "I know what you two are thinking. And you may be right about me, but /not/ about him!" Once they disappear however, the crafter relaxes visibly, glaring after them a bit more before pulling his legs up and laying back down. He turns his head, watching the harper for a few seconds before forcing himself to look at the ceiling, muttering under his breathe.

The harper remains oblivious to the visit of his father and his lover, just struggling to breathe at this point. His ashen skin and rapid pulse tell of how serious his condition is. One of the staff had started to move when Laera beat her to the punch, but she wanders that direction now and picks up the boy's chart to jot down a few things. She takes his temperature and draws a little blood, setting the vial down a moment before disposing of the needle in the trash. She gives Laera a concerned pursing of her lips and glances over at Pyriel before shaking her head. She murmurs softly to her, "It's touch and go. The next couple of days should give us an idea if he's going to make it. If his fever doesn't break…" she lets her voice trail off from there.

She puts a comforting hand on the bluerider's shoulder, before going over to check Ryeokie's chart.Few people get to see that temper side of Laera. Most people believe few things can ruffle her feathers. Well the patients awake tonight did see it and it seems she would be willing even to take on another rider for something she believed in. Once the pair are out of sight she takes a slow deep breath and looks back to the other healer. "He is not allowed to die. I will not give that man the satisfaction." She says with conviction in her voice. "He is not welcome to visit again." She continues before looking over to Ryeokie, "Don't let what they think bother you, alright? It don't matter. People like them would have been just as judgemental if you had been a gal." She goes to get another mentholated soaked towel to place upon Pyriel's chest.

Ryeokie's body may be scratched, but his hearing is perfectly fine. The nurse's news drops on him like a dead, heavy weight. Hands grab the sides of the cot, squeezing down hard even as wounds reopen. But then he hears the blue rider's words and nods emphatically. "He will not die. He won't." The starcrafter shoots a weak smile at her and nods, "They can think what they want about me. But not about Py…..I'm Ryeokie by the way." Late introduction indeed. The crafter sticks out a hand out, offering a shake, but its bleeding again so he pulls it back. But not before another nurse sees it. The woman walks over and hits the crafter upside the head with her clipboard /somewhat/ gently. "Last month it was bruises now its cuts? Stop moving those hands wherry head!" White strips come out of her pocket and she begins to redress the wounds for the second time in only a few minutes.

The healer before Ryeokie frowns at the repopened wound, letting the nurse see to it as she writes some things down on the starcrafter's chart. She's tight lipped about what she thinks is going to happen this time. It was generally frowned upon to give false hope, if there was a chance it could go the opposite way. She puts the chart back at the end of the bed and looks to the nurse. "I don't like the Harper boy's color, lets try and push some more fluids all right?" she says, and then walks off back to the station to label the vial she has and then hand it off to get tested. Pyriel twitches again, the mask over his face steaming up and unsteaming as he breaths in and out, his eyelids closed and slightly blue. He certainly didn't look so good. Then all of a sudden all the machines are beeping at once, alarms are going off and something is buzzing somewhere. The harper is struggling again, and the monitor keeping track of his heart rate starts to go crazy. Pyriel is gasping for oxygen, but simply isn't getting it. The healer at the desk snaps her head in that direction and then she's dashing over, "Shards he's crashing…" And then it's a flurry of motions, and people are appearing out of no where. Then the heart monitor, goes flatline. "Laera!" the woman calls, flipping the bedding back and pulling down the gown that was draped over the boy.

Laera extends her hand to the man for the shake , but drops it as he drops his. His healer quick to work on taking care of the young man. "I know how you feel young lad…" She starts before she hears the machines attached to Pyriel and she is quick to the young man's bedside even as her name is called. "We are not going to lose you Pyriel, you got far too much spirit for that." She says even as he flatlines and she starts to give him chest
compressions. "Get a chest tube, we need to get the fluid from his lungs…" She calls out even as she gives the chest compressions, relying on another healer to deal with the breathing. Her gaze is very focused right now as she works on the young man. "Give him a dose of Adrenaline and Manitol (for any brain swelling). Damn it Pyriel, don't you dare die on me." She says as she continues to give compressions.

Eyes widen at the sudden noises and flurry of movement. Before the nurse can get a word in otherwise, Ryeokie uses his arms to push her aside. Legs are swung over the side of the bed and the starcrafter is standing, the pained leg ignored. The crafter is horrified, face filled with anguish as a scream rends the air. "NO!" Then the machine shows flatline and the crafter falls to his knees, tears that had threatened since he wake finally overflow. "You can't! You didn't get your head hit and spend the night out there just to die! Breathe, please…please." Sobs escape from the crafter's lips as a fist pounds into the floor. "Laera…Laera, save him."

Landers had passed out for a while, but the commotion going on the next bed over has him lift his head from the cot, soaked in his own sweat with hair clinging to his face. Squinting through strings of hair, it takes a few moments for the man to realize what is going on. Yet, there is nothing he can do but pray silently under his breath for the life of the Harper, wincing all the while to the tightness of his own chest and the aches that can be felt in every joint and muscle.

The people around Pyriel continue to work, one aide getting the drugs that Laera has asked for, and another pulls the mask off the boy's face and helps to lay him flat against the bed so they can intubate. "I've got an airway!" the woman calls out as she tilts back the harper's head and inserts a tube down into his throat. The same woman casts a glance around to the hysterical starcrafter and she grits her teeth as she starts to pump a bag that will breathe for Pyriel. "Someone get him." she snaps. One of the aides hurries over to help Ryeokie off the floor and back into bed, while another draws a curtain to block the harper from view. "Calm down now, they are doing everything they can for your friend." he says, trying to sooth the tearful starcrafter. Pyriel himself still isn't responding to the chest compressions or the air he's being offered. Someone comes by with a chest tube set and hands it off to Laera.

The situation seemed dire. The Harper could die or suffer severe side affects. Either way, the seacraft knew that it was going to be hard on Ryeokie. Lan had been struck by waves of grief as his friends were counted among the dead retrieved from the Azov (and those who weren't are assumed dead). On top of Wilem dying during the night, the loss that surmounted in Lan's heart was something Ryeokie could relate to, if this went bad. The three of them had held on for dear life the night of the wreck and he wasn't going to let a fever prevent him from attempting to calm down the starcrafter. With the healer's all distracted on saving the Harper, the sailor slips out of his bed, nearly falling on his face for it too. Gasping with the shock of legs that were almost too weak to hold him, he stumbled into the next cot beside his own. Grappling with the frame, he lurched himself around it, slinking toward where Ryeokie was set, in his skimpies no less. Not that it mattered. Rye and Pyr had been what mattered. Finally he reaches Ryeokie's side in all the chaos, a chilled clammy hand reaching out to touch Rye on the shoulder. Lan was there, eyes filled with concern, along with something else, encouragement and perseverance. "Ryeo…" he starts, needing to sit down before his legs gave out under him, finding a spot on the starcrafters cot,

"Tis nothin ya can do. Let 'em healers do it. Tis only with 'em tha he'll live." A thick hand lifts to rest on Ryeokie's shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze there upon, pale faced and sickly all the while."I will not lose another one." Laera says with fierce determination. As the chest tube is handed her she directs someone else to take over compressions as she makes a cut on his chest to jab the tube into his lungs to drain off the puss and clots compressing around his heart. "Come one Pyriel, you are a fighter, I know you are. Fight for us." She says as she resumes compressions once the Adrenaline has been pushed into the heart. Laera's gaze is on the monitor, at present the only blips from her compressions.

It's not without a struggle that the crafter is removed. Hands and legs flail as best he can, but with the restrictive cast it comes about to nothing. That's when the nurse from earlier comes and delivers a resounding slap across Ryeo's cheek, stunning him into silence. Within seconds the young man is maneuvered back into bed and the unfinished bandaging continues as Ryeo cries in silent misery. A warm hand finally catches Rye's attention and he looks up. Despite Landers' sick look, a bit of comfort creeps itself into the star-gazer's mind. But that slight sliver of hope only brings about another round of tears. "He won't leave us. Right Lan? He can't." The crafter leans forward, eyes imploring for an affirmative.

A much harder look swells in Landers' gaze as it crosses toward the curtain hiding the scene from view, his ears catching snippets of the healers back and forth orders as they attempt to spare the Harper of the fate fourteen others had already faced. The once jovial carefree sailor looks weighted down by the events surrounding him, face turning back to Ryeo and the imploring hope that dwells within the other's young face. A tightness of his hand draws Ryeo forward, an embrace that is meant to be comforting, as if the sailors thick arms could do anything to save the fraile life of the Harper in the next cot. The reassurance of the sailors voice doesn't come immediately, as if knowing no words could quench the tears of the starcrafter, nothing could until the Harper was himself once more. Yet, there are words, brief, swollen with a thick accent, "'E won't leave 'is brothers…" That was as much hope as the sailor was willing to release from his burdened heart.

Still pumping away on the bag that is pushing air into Pyriel's lungs, the woman there counts out for the aide that takes over chest compressions for Laera as she tends to the chest tube. Another healer calls, "Adrenaline is in!" when the drug is pushed through. The fluid that is drained from the Harper is yellow and thick, and contains a very substantial clot. Likely one of the reasons this was happening to begin with. The aide doing the compressions relents to let Laera take back over, and at this point it's a waiting game. Time passes and eventually one of the aides glances grimly over to another, then they both look to the bluerider, and finally the heart monitor. It's still flatlined. "Laera…" she says quietly, "I think we should call i…" she starts but then, a bleep. The woman blinks, and keeps pumping away. "Come on kiddo." she murmurs at him, giving his pale cheek a rub. Another bleep, and another…and another. "Faranth! He's back, we have a rhythm!" Sure enough, there it is. It's weak but none the less a heart beat.

Laera keeps working, her gaze shifting to the monitor, the boy's face then the bottle the chest fluids are draining in to. As the clot comes out she curses, "Damn it.." Her hands keep moving in that steady rythm over his chest. As the other healer suggests she calls it, Laera shakes her head feircy, "No! I will not call it." She practically yells at the woman. Then the bleeps start on the monitor and her hands come quickly from his chest, "Never
give up on a patient…" She mutters to the other healer. Something perhaps makes her both a good and bad healer. She does take the deaths a bit too personally. She steps back and takes a breath as she watches the monitor and make sure he holds the beat, "We got him back.."

For a second the starcrafter's shuddering stops as he returns the hug, attempting to hide himself in that embrace and whatever comfort it may offer him. Smirks, smiles, teasing…everything is wiped from Ryeo as he clutches to his last line of hope. Then the words float across the curtain barrier, reaching his ears. Sobs start anew, relief radiating through the crafter as he goes limp. "Oh Faranth….he's alive. He's alive!" But even now a smile eludes Ryeokie, the tears and blood draining energy from his body. The crafter's eyes don't close, but his body goes limp as the tension leaves him.The sailor is there as a sturdy comfort to the slaking crafter when the relief overwhelms him. Landers' strong arms, even in his own personal weakness, are capable of keeping the starcrafter from slipping off the bed as he goes limp, holding the sobbing youth as his own face turns toward the curtain. He can hear the healers announce they've a heart beat, squeezing Ryeokie further as he also lets the hope rest on his tongue, "Of course he is. Tis our brother, thar. He be strong…" or so the sailor hopes so!

The heart beat was in fact holding, and picking up a bit. The healer providing Pyriel with air, signals to have a tube attached to it to breath for him so she doesn't have to squeeze the manual one all night. She does however, narrow her eyes slightly at Laera. They will likely have words later, she doesn't appear impressed with the bluerider's attitude. Not about to start an argument over the body of a boy who just died and came back to life, she sets about cleaning up and instructing her aides in how to further care for him. One of them checks the boy's head wound and changes his bandages, another sets about clearing the chest tube and stitching the lad back up where he'd been cut along his ribs. "Laera?" one very young healer journeyman comes over to ask. "Do you think we need to leave him on the…" she starts, and points to the machine that was breathing for Pyriel. Looks like she wanted the opinion of someone who wanted their patients to live, not the one who was ready to let them die.

As the journeyman comes over to her Laera looks to her and nods, "Yeah, temperatures checks every half candlemark. He will need to be monitored cause he might get distressed if he wakes up with that in his throat. Talk him through it and explain what is going on." She explains to the woman and glances over to the healer that would have called him then back again, "He is a person, not just a patient." With those words she finally moves out from behind the curtain and looks over to Landers at Rye's bed and goes over to help him back to his cot. The pregnant rider looking rather weary at this moment. It has been a long couple of days, "Come on and get back to rest. We don't have enough machines for you all to be getting such special treatment."

There's a ghost of a smile that appears in the crafter's eyes as he nods. "He is. Our brother is strong. He will…he will be…" Words trail off as the crafter begins to lose conciousness, physical weariness finally overcoming the mental cries to remain awake. Ryeo slips into a blissful sleep, one without dreams or worries, only a black veil of comfort surrounding him and preventing any thoughts. Thanks to the bluerider and the healers it would
wait until tomorrow.

Once Ryeo has left the conscious word, Landers has no choice but to shuffle back to his own cot, having need of help to get there since his legs are sluggish to respond. Slumping back on his cot, he looks toward the pair of crafters who survived with him on the ship, a thoughtful frown staying on his face even as he settles back under the sheets, groaning a little since the blankets are soaked with his own sweat and chilly to the touch.

The journeyman nods at what Laera has to say and goes to do just that straight away. She's checking Pyriel's vitals, and making a note in his chart. The last person out pulls the curtain back from around the Harper and wanders off. Just like that the emergency is over. Someone had dressed his wounds again, and recovered him in his gown and blankets. He was still sweating profusely and ashen colored of course, and the machine there was breathing for him. The journeyman sets the chart back at the end of the bed, and then she too heads back to the station to set a timer for half a candlemark. It's going to be a long night.

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