Where We Overlap

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 there is strength in the differences between us. I know there is comfort where we overlap.” —Ani Difranco

It is a dismal Sigam that is perched at the very edge of one cot, currently in fervent conversation with… absolutely no one. "…know it's broken, but it doesn't mean I have to sit here like a prisoner of…" The man's voice seems to rise and fall with it's fervency, and eventually, the poor healer sitting behind her desk rises and all but stomps to his side. "Ow!" Silently, but with obvious lack of patience, the woman prods around Sigam's face while he attempts to keep still. "Shards, woman, are you trying to make it worse! I already look like a 'coon." The healer glares at him, and he lapses into silence, with the exception of a hiss as she gives him a final poke in the cheek, as if to say 'there, complain more, why don't you?' Sigam bites his tongue, but as she goes back to her work, he mutters a very quiet, "I'm startin' to hate women," complete with lisp.

Thea enters the Infirmary on one of her daily visits to the place, in her arms she has several soft hand-woven colorful blankets. A healer by the door meets her, there is a quiet conversation then Thea moves into the room, stopping by each bed to speak with those lying there, if they are awake and able to visit and some of them are presented with a blanket. While her face shows nothing amiss, only soothing comfort to those in need of such, every line of her body says something is not right, from the way she holds her head to the slope of her shoulders and though she offers smiles of cheer, her eyes remain somber. Most would not pick up on all this as she is trying her best not to show it. The argued spat is ignored as those are fairly common here and Thea isn't recognizing the voice. At last she turns towards Sigam's cot. As she draws near, there is a blink of recognition and a small gasp. "Sigam?" She peers closer her green eyes sharpen as they flick over that bandaging, "What on Pern did you do to yourself?"

"Ah, great," Sigam mutters to himself, chin dropping gingerly onto one hand as a familiar form appears. It's not vanity that has the Dragonhealer hunching a little lower, but rather a certain unwillingness to discuss the situation coupled with the knowledge that, if Thea asks, Sig won't be able to refuse to spill. There is nowhere to hide in cleanly Infirmary, a quick glance tells him, so there is nothing to do but watch as the goldrider draws closer, apparently bent on visiting everyone. Curses. "In the flesh," is his reply to her initial shocked question, and something akin to a smile appears on his face beneath the heavy nose packing. "I don't suppose you have a blanket there for me." Though afflicted, his voice is undeniably cheeky in his attempt to deflect the question he knew was coming. Slowly, the smile melts away to a serious grimace. "I could ask you the same thing, weyrwoman," he comments quietly, used to discerning moods of dragons through the less subtle behaviors of their riders. He can tell she's upset, even if he doesn't openly pry about it. "I picked a fight with a beer bottle. It won."

Thea listens with her ears as well as her eyes, reading nuances Sigam may not be aware he's showing. A tiny bit of skepticism flickers in the somber green of her eyes as he mentions the bottle. For a moment it appears she will let it go. She places the stack of blankets on his bed with a gracious nod, a certain amount of pride sneaks into her tone, "These are from my home hold; they're made of camilid. I had a bunch commissioned for the Candidates and we had some left over. You may pick one to keep if you'd like." She glances about, spots a chair beside the bed and drags it closer before sinking into it. "Ah but I asked you first." Shrewd eyes assess him as she asks, "Most men do not seem so uncomfortable discussing barfights, even if they lost." Her head tilts and she points out frankly, "You don't look too beat up, so I take it you won? And I didn't get any requisitions to replace broken stuff from the Tavern. So how's your opponent?" For some odd reason, she doesn't ask if the other is in here. Hmm.

For a moment, Sigam rejoices inwardly at the successful redirection of conversation - she can probably tell as the tension drifts out of his shoulders and interest quirks an eyebrow. "What hold's that?," he asks as he runs a hand over the blankets appreciatively. "Camilid, hm? They're really soft, my compliments to the weaver." The Dragonhealer seems to be taken by surprise by her offer. "I was only teasing, but if you're sure, I would love to own one…" Sigam is visibly pleased as he pulls the topmost blanket into his lap, long fingers still running across its surface, but the happy expression doesn't seem to last long; in fact, it gets more frustrated and upset as each observation is added. "It wasn't a barfight," he mutters after a moment, eyes flicking up to return her gaze. "Cenlia is fine." He pauses as if to think on that for a second. "Or at least, I hope she is." An awkward glance has him staring off over her shoulder, though it isn't the patterened curtain that he's interested in. "I left before I did something… stupid." He stops, opens his mouth again, closes it, and exhales. "I think I might have pushed her too far." It's a stabbing attempt at a joke, but it smacks just as much of truth and concern.

"Cold Stone Hold. Back of High Reaches Hold." Thea answers Sigam, then nods her agreement, "Softest wool on Pern." It is said a bit smugly before she points out with a faint attempt at humor, "You've earned it; you're injured." For a moment or two she is silent, listening to him speak and when he is finished, her head drops, all but hiding a flash of disappointed expression that fills her eyes. "I see." The next words come out a bit strained, "Seems like complexities abound right and left around here. I cannot fathom why Cenlia would be so mad she'd lob a bottle at you. I don't suppose the booze she was sucking down helped any." No judgement there in her tone, only a quiet grief that hints at a deeper root. Above her on a shelf a bronze firelizard pops in from *Between* and sits silently peering down with obvious glee at the evident discomfort of both people below.

Sigam nods, unable to put a place with the name, but accepting the answer just the same. "Cold Stone. Huh. They certainly can back that claim, can't they?" A little smile does flick up the corners of his mouth, eyes rolling ceilingwards for a second. "Earned it in spades, by now," he says, pointedly eyeing the healer across the way, who now seems intent to ignore him completely. By the time he looks back to Thea, she is somber again, and Sigam can't help but be taken in by the mood. "Complexities? How do you mean?" His mouth is still ajar to inquire further on this, but it quickly turns into an ashamed cough. Once again, he's glancing to one side. "I sort of, ah, dared her to make me shut up. I thought she'd take a swing at me, not hurl a bottle." His jaw tightens at the mention of booze, but the dark look that goes with it is accidentally directed at Ruin as the bronze's motion catches his eye. "I'd agree, but that'd make me something of a hypocrite, wouldn't it?" The Dragonhealer finally looks back at Thea as if by force of will, and after a moment of lingering silence he shifts his blanket to one side and slides off his cot. Kneeling before her, his bruised and bandaged face ducks to peer up at hers. "With all due respect, weyrwoman." He pauses, reconsiders, and lowers his voice significantly. "Thea. I've tried to keep from commenting as of yet, sensing a personal issue that's none of my business, but… Seriously, one friend to another, are you okay?" The question is delivered awkwardly, but Sigam seems to has resolved himself to the idea that it must be asked.

At the mention of spades, Thea can't help but burst out laughing, a sound she quickly muffles with a hand when a Healer gives her a short glare. As Sigam explains, she murmurs with some of the laugh still threading her tone, "Daring a booze-filled Cenlia. Never a smart move." Her amusement fades rather quickly at that dark look, which has her turning to peer over her shoulder. She spots Ruin, quickly turns 'round and this time her posture is a bit hunched in that chair. Above her there's a smug croon from Ruin at her unease with his arrival. The weyrwoman shrugs at Sigam's next words, "Hypocrite. Well, that's up to you to decide. There's a lot of next-morning-regret that I seem to have to deal with often around here." There's a resignation to her tone as she says that. "Complexities?" Her head drops and she focuses on her hands for a time. "Cenlia is my friend. Since I impressed things have gotten… busy for me and we've drifted apart." A wistful yearning colors those words, "She doesn't tell me anything anymore. I wish I could help her but…" Another shrug and then to her surprise Sigam is kneeling and peeking up at her. She flickers a rather frantic glance around the room, but everyone seems to be sleeping. His question has her blinking sudden tears and all she can answer is a whispered, "No" as her eyes close, hiding the pain in them and her head drops further allowing her hair to swing forward and hide her. Ruin floats down to the back of her chair, snakelike in his movement to be nearer, chortling his pleasure at his subject's tears.

"Trust me, I've learned that," Sigam chuckles in kind, waving a hand in the general area of his face. "It's not something I'm a fan of repeating, either. I'm racking up an impressive list of 'Do Not's." His smirk dwindles a bit, and perhaps takes a sardonic turn as he glances at his boots, hearing her explaination out. "I see," he says simply before looking up. "That's the most unfortunate part of growing up, losing the close bonds you develop with people. It's easy to fall into a friendship, but it's infinitely harder to grow apart." Though he's looking right at her, he seems to be staring an awful long way into the past, and it takes him a moment to regain his composure. "Maybe you should be catching up with her instead of talking to this ugly mug." He laughs weakly, but doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get out of her way and let her do so. Not yet, when her sudden display of emotion has him practically incapacitated. Whatever he expected to come of that (likely a firm denial), her tears certainly weren't high on the list. "Thea," he murmurs again, eyes filling with concern as she hides away behind a curtain of hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you… sad," he finishes lamely. The Dragonhealer finally seems capable of movement, even if he is at a loss for proper words, one hand reaching up to rest against her drooped head if she doesn't move out of the way first. The firelizard is given a dirty glare, but no comment is made as of yet.

Thea listens to Sigam, nodding at his words with her head still bent. There's a short, ironic bark of laughter as he says 'growing apart'. "That is a painful truth I'm learning." She misses his look into the past, merely shakes her head at his suggestion as to finding Cenlia, "Finding the time is difficult and when I do, she just… keeps me at arm's length. I can't push. It's not my way." Though genuine regret is there in her voice, that doesn't seem to be what's distressing her. When his hand touches her head, she raises it in surprise, "You didn't! Oh, I am sorry if you thought that all this-" Her hand waves at the room in general and his bandaged nose. "-made me sad. Well, sometimes it does, but." She shakes her head, ignoring the creeping Ruin, although his muzzle is but a hair from one of her ears and he's hissing his wicked delight in it at her state of mind. She seems to debate whether to say anything, but finally with a quiet despair shares, "My weyrmate is gone and I cannot find him. He stood for the hatching and never returned to our cottage." She leans back in that chair, her sea green eyes pained. "We have looked everywhere for him, Seryth and I."

"All just a happy part of growing up," Sigam agrees, voiced heavily laced with childish grumpiness at the unfairness of it all. "That is a shame, however. In thinking on it, I'm sure you made a good pair of friends - a sort of balance, if you will." His lip curls up, but it is a brief gesture that is quick to fade as he shakes his head perhaps a little too rapidly. With a wince, he corrects himself. "No, no, I didn't mean about me, or here. I meant by confronting you about whatever's upsetting you." He withdraws his hand from the air where her head used to be, resisting the sudden and inexplicable urge to backhand Ruin, not at all impressed with the bronze's insidious behavior. Luckily for the firelizard, Sigam's ire dissolves quickly, replaced with a look of morose compassion, and perhaps, way deep down in there, understanding. "Ah, Thea, I'm-" What? Sorry? That hardly seemed adequate for the situation. Sigam shakes his head, frustrated by his lack of appropriate words. "That's… not right. What about other weyrs? Could he have gone to Ista? We've… still been going, undercover, despite their lack of trust." The Dragonhealer makes a face under the bandages. "They've been making arrests." It might just be an excuse - Sigam wouldn't know her weyrmate from a hole in the ground in order to verify it - but in the classic way of humans everywhere, he endeavors to keep her hopes alive.

Thea's eyes remain somber but she listens, a sad sort of smile pulls at her lips, "Cenlia was never one to really share her thoughts. We just had some fun together. For a person to want balance, they sort of have to be open to it. She's not." Another shrug, "Maybe someday she will be." His wince and self-correction elicits a small, enlightened, "Oh." Something in his eyes when he looks at Ruin tweaks a half-smile and she tilts her head towards the creature, "Kav was the only one he ever respected. Or feared." She dismisses Ruin from her mind while she ponders his suggestions before replying dully, "He promised me he wouldn't ever leave." Silent tears trace the curve of her cheek and she brushes angrily at them with the back of her hand. She takes a moment struggling to get herself under control, lifting her head, squaring her shoulders. Firmly, "He may have needed some time to think. He had wanted some mental space, I think he said, right after he was Searched. I'll give him some." There's a long sigh then before she adds, "Sorry to dump all that on you, Sigam, but I appreciate you asking. And listening." It's a wobbly sort of smile she offers, but it is the best she can give him right now.

Sigam's head shakes slightly as he rocks back on his heels, a grimace tilting his lips downwards. "Now that you mention it, that seems to be how she treats just about everybody." The words are dry, and it's obvious he's about to hazard into the country that got his nose in its current state. "I sure hope so - for her sake." With a bit of control, that seems to be all he has to say on the matter. Ruin is something different altogether, for his eyes scrunch up with what can only be described as a vicious grin for the flit. "He obviously hasn't met with a 'healer that treats wounds without numbweed, then. Needles aren't fun when you can feel it." His voice is full of conviction, but something in his eyes shows that he wouldn't put his worst enemy through unnecessary pain… unless they deserved it. "Promises like that are hard to keep," he says, more soberly now, quietly giving her a moment to collect herself before nodding. "That very well may be the case. Especially since he didn't impress," the Dragonhealer agrees. Or, at least he hoped the lad hadn't impressed and then fluttered off like a leaf on the breeze. He'd have to check as soon as he got out of this sharding place. "Hey." Long fingers reach out to pat one of her knees assuringly. "Don't even worry about it. Anytime you need to talk, I'm more than willing to listen, okay?" He makes an attempt to peer earnestly into her eyes, but the effect is rather ruined when he snorts and gives a lopsided grin. "Except if I'm in surgergy - I might not appreciate it so much then. But seriously… It's… nice to know I can help, even a little," he ascertains with a nod, reflecting her smile back at her. A discreet cough jerks Sigam's attention to the side, where the healer is holding a jar he only recognizes too well. He makes a face at Thea before rising and dragging himself back to his cot so the woman can peel back his bandages. "I have to be a good boy now," he comments, peering crosseyed down at his horribly purple and swollen nose, even as the healer spreads the numbweed across his skin. "Do you know how disconcerting it is not to feel your nose?"

Thea nods in agreement to Cenlia, smirks a little and manages, "Ruin might like the pain, who knows? He seems to spend a lot of time in here soaking up the misery when he's not haunting me. He's an odd firelizard." As Sigam rises so does she, having seen the Healer approach jar in hand. Of his current predicament and not feeling his nose she half-laughs, "I can't say I've ever experienced that particular sensation. I hope I never do." She begins to step away, then turns back thoughtfully, "My Kav wasn't one to make promises lightly. I trust him. And… I will wait for him to come back if it takes a lifetime." With another softly voiced thanks and a flicker of a glance at his poor abused schnoz, a slight headshake and a faintly amused smile she heads out, leaving the rest of the blankets where they lie stacked upon his cot.

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