Checkups and Checkouts

Xanadu Weyr - Infirmary
The infirmary here is intended for human care. It is regularly scrubbed spotless and smells of disinfectant, redwort and other herbs that are - if sometimes strong - preferable to the scents of sickness. Cots are lined up against one wall, with a set of curtains that can be pulled to give some privacy to the occupants of the cots if they so desire. They're mostly used for examinations of patients and the treatment of mild injuries that won't require long term care; near the back are some more private areas with folding dividers.
There's a number of cabinets that stand off against another wall, instruments and medications stored against when they will be needed, and a back room holds those supplies seldom required.
A desk with chair is set just off of the doorway to the caverns, meant for the healer to sit and catch up on record keeping after a long day's work or await patients. If things get too busy, the patients can do the waiting on a set of uncomfortable chairs set nearby. The other doorway comes directly from the clearing, wide enough for a team to carry a stretcher through.

IT IS SUMMER, and today? Today it is raining. It's a miserable kind of storm, the kind that comes with dark clouds and blotted suns; the kind that means it doesn't matter what time of day it is because it all. looks. dark. There's no respite or end in sight, no bright patches of sky to herald a reprieve, no end to rolling thunder that crashes with every splintered lick of electricity, with lightning that breaks up the furious monotony of storm clouds. MAYBE IT'S OMINOUS FORESHADOWING, MAYBE RISALI IS JUST SEEKING SHELTER (because the truth of the matter is that the striding-through-the-doors-sopping-wet Weyrwoman is afraid of thunder), MAYBE IT DOESN'T MATTER WHY SHE'S HERE. EITHER WAY: HERE SHE IS. She's here with the tiny hand of Zyriden wrapped tightly in her own, the toddler dressed in rain boots and a raincoat and a raincoat hood because Risali doesn't do ANYTHING in half measures when it comes to her children. Together, rain-soaked mother and Galaxy Uniform imitation rain-coat bearing child, move back through rows of empty beds and pulled curtains. It's Zyriden babbling conversation to his Mother, Risali who answers with just enough distracted politeness to keep Zyri from thinking she isn't listening until they find THE PLACE THEY ARE LOOKING FOR and Risali pulls the curtain back slow. Zyriden, on the other hand, doesn't have time for manners. No, he breaks free of Risali and lets little rain-booted feet carry him forward, gasping out, "Daddy! Daddy!" as he moves. Risa is slower, watching Zyriden (without chiding him for his enthusiasm), before grey eyes blink up to see if R'hyn is even here.

R'hyn's here, alright - here and with his shirt peeled off, folded neatly at his side as he perches on the edge of the bed, posture one of bored anticipation. It's possible he's been let out and has been made to come back, or has, at least, been allowed to reside in something other than a hospital bed, for sheets are neat and tidy, broken by the depression one butt makes in the crisp linens. Both brows tilt at the motion of his curtain, body shifting in anticipation, eyes reading finally, mouth opening to say just that and, no doubt, worse, lips already curved into a sardonic half-smile when — choke. This is not who he expected. Not even a little. Risali is on the receiving end of consternation, brows going extra cock-eyed in the confusion, an expression that clears only for tiny Zyriden's enthusiastic greetings. "Hiiii, baby," R'hyn croons, freeing the goldrider from that Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do look in favor of sweeping his rain-ridden son up into his arms, nuzzling noses, kissing cheeks, and generally fighting for every single giggle he may or may not elicit as he chases stray smooches across the toddler's face. "Who left all these kisses here?!," smooed in mock dismay, the bronzer pausing with a gasp before pointing a playfully aghast look down at Zyriden. "Did your mommy not collect them? Oh no, so rude, now they're my kisses, mwahmwahmwahmwah." And so it goes, the performance of this act stretching into the ridiculous before bright blue-grey eyes finally fix up at Risa again, the rude as fuck man aiming to shove his son into his armpit while offering harassments of 'Mommy is making that face again, does daddy stink? Does daddy stink?!', persisting only as long as giggles last. "What are you two up to? Lovely day, yeah?" The sky, obligingly, kabooms.

WITHOUT HIS SHIRT? WITHOUT HIS SHIRT? W I T H O U T H I S S H I R T. Unacceptable. Risali tries really hard not to react to it, but the moment those grey eyes jump up and take in R'hyn's state of undress, her breath catches somewhere in her throat and she looks suddenly furious. "You — " He can CONSTERNATE HER ALL HE WANTS, she's already taking not-nearly-long-enough strides across tiled floor while R'hyn indulges in their son, while Zyriden presses his face into those nuzzles and kisses and catches R'hyn's face between tiny, pudgy hands to hold him closer. He laughs, the laughter ending on drawn out, 'heeeeeeeeeeee's as nose and eyes scrunch in absolute DELIGHT. "Mommy did NOT COLLECT!" he announces with the kind of conviction that says he totally knows what he's saying. "Rude, Mommy! Daddy's kisses!" Cue the laughter, more pressing hands to cheeks and getting R'hyn wet while Risali GRABS THAT SHIRT and PULLS HALF OF IT DOWN ON R'HYN'S HEAD amid a chorus of, "Daddy stink! Daddy, you stink!!!" Risali is GLOWERING DEATH upon R'hyn, sabotaging efforts to get his head through head hole or to PULL THE DAMN THING BACK OFF AGAIN — "Zyriden wanted to see you, you indecent, stupid — " and then she's thwarted. She's thwarted by, "Mommy! Daddy! Kisses! Hugs!" She's stunted in her IRRATIONAL FURY by the request of one raincoat-bearing little boy who doesn't quite understand the very complicated dynamics of his family. So Risali looks from R'hyn to Zyri once R'hyn has UNCOMPLICATED HIS SHIRT LIFE, and then she's just… giving in to two turn old whims. "I'm gonna get all those kisses," Risa playfully growls, much to Zyriden's pleasure, and he's BRACED FOR IT. So Risa will PRESS UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE TO R'HYN to SQUISH ZYRIDEN IN A HUG BETWEEN THEM, and she will kiss one cheek while Zyriden waits patiently for R'hyn to kiss the other. With much, 'heeeeeeeeeeeee' and many face scroonches.

LISTEN, RISALI. There's a reason for privacy curtains, logic behind the reason for its removal, a whole host of scars, former breaks, faded contusions that are rather difficult to perform follow-up assessments on in a shirt-ridden environment! Frankly, we're all lucky he's been given leave to keep his pants! Not that they aren't perfectly ridiculous in and of themselves, sweats bound at his hips cut short on the side still boasting a large cast, giving him a permanently off-kilter and frankly somewhat shabby appearance, but frankly y'all, he doesn't give a damn. Not when he has a lap full of small child whose laughter is infectious, who has him in helpless fits of giggles in return, lips split wide in a grin that doesn't even fade when Risa rudely shoves his shirt over his head. "Hey, hey, hnf!," R'hyn protests, one hand coming up to slappy-slap her away. Ryn uses Slap! It's not very effective… "Ow, fff-fuhricken shells, Risa, you're tearing off my ear, what are you doing, you ridiculous harpy, I-mmmffgggh." Whatever he is, it's ruined by the successful lowering of the shirt over his head, neckline spluttered out of his mouth before finally Zyriden distracts the goldrider from her self-imposed task. His son: a bro at only two turns old. He'd give him some knuckles to rap if he weren't so busy giving Risa a playful glare, trusting the toddler to keep himself upright as he struggles into the rest of his shirt. "Better not have ripped it, this one's my favorite." But there's no time to debate, assess the situation - hugs and kisses have been requested, and R'hyn is no more capable of denying the wishes of this small child than he is any of the others. He leans just as much of himself into the mutual embrace as Risali, hesitates, and then goes a step further, hauling them both in for a baby-squishing, Risa-organ-smushing, Zyriden-cheek-smooching squeeze that ends in him nuzzling bear-growls into hair, though whose it is, he is not terribly picky about. ENJOY THAT BEARD COMING GUYS. YOU EARNED IT. "I squish you," he breathes on an eventual exhale, releasing everyone, hands dropping down to rest on Zyri's knees to keep him safe before he slants a look back Risa's way. "They're keeping it on." The leg cast, he means, something a little more somber hitting his tones, the lines of his face easing into something bordering resignation. "At least another month." He might go crazy before then, unspoken but hinted at with a slow roll of his shoulders in muted agitation.

LISTEN HERYN, THERE'S A REASON FOR — "Shut up and take it like a man, you idiotic, over-tall sonnuva — " Whatever she says, it's cut off by more squeals of gleeful delight, more pudgy hands, more pressing of faces against cheeks and lips and kisses and minor protests of, "Daddy, no! Daddy, pokey!" when BEARD meets TINY, BABY-SOFT FACE. For what it's worth, there's no real heat in Risali's words. Not even when he tells her she better not have ripped his shirt and her answer is: "You're lucky I don't rip your — R'hyn nnnnnnnnnnn — //" IT'S TOO LATE. She's captured in the crushing embraces, braces herself against R'hyn's shoulder with one hand that curls fingers viciously into flesh, nails digging into skin before she just //gives the hell up and relaxes into him. Zyriden is the important one anyway. She can do this. IT'S THE HAIR NUZZLING THAT RISALI CANNOT DO, and despite the fact that she laughs, she still pulls away, she still gives a playful shove to R'hyn's head before dipping back in to press a hundred more kisses against Zyriden's cheeks. Then they're released, Risali stumbling back a single step before rocking forward again to run fingers through Zyriden's hair. But she is listening, even if it takes her eyes a full beat to jump back up to R'hyn when he speaks. There's a sideways pull of her lips, something wry as her attention falls back to his casted leg and, in perfect Risali form, she goes the acerbic route instead of offering up anything really helpful. "You deserve it — " It's interrupted by Zyriden saying, "Daddy! I kiss you, but here. Is too pokey." HIS BEARD, HE MEANS. That's why Zyriden SHIFTS HIS TINY BODY and pulls R'hyn's head down, and kisses him right under his eye, where there is LESS CHANCE of getting bearded. Risali watches the exchange, and then softer, softer, so soft that maybe she never even said it at all, " — for scaring me half to death." Now grey eyes are jumping back up to blue-grey, holding with a weight that says too much but not nearly enough. There's something there, something almost… "Half of it is probably punishment for chasing Fire away, you know." A gentle punch to his upper shoulder (VERY, VERY GENTLE), and then she moves to pull up a seat while Zyriden snuggles up against his Daddy. "Daddy! You stay tonight?" BEAM.

There's a commotion somewhere in the distance — is a rumble of thunder (rain? snow? either way!), or is it the ominous background music that spontaneously erupts in Citayla's honor? Or perhaps a combination: the Jaws theme in honor of an extremely bedraggled goldrider, who arrives and immediately splits for the hearth, rather than her beloved family. Family-schmamily, some things are more important, like procuring hot beverages to stave off certain death by cold-wet bones. Thankfully, the healers seem not too concerned by Cita's presence — she navigates the hearth like a pro, fetching a pot of klah and preparing another in its place. A trio of mugs join the pitcher on its tray, and the healer disappears briefly into the back; appears, not long after, dressed in a dry healer's uniform with wet hair tossed back in a messy bun. Only then does she make her way over to the somewhat rowdy scene surrounding her favorite of Xanadu's patients, eyebrows raised as she approaches, finally fully taking in the chaos. "Well, I've brought klah, but it seems like we've got energy…covered." Cita announces herself, amused in a very mild Cita-y way, as she sets the tray down on a handy rolling one probably usually meant for less pleasant healer gifts. "Where's my hugs?" Cita aims that at Zyriden, dramatically Wounded, except she ruins it immediately by swooping down and squishing both Ryn and the kid in a tight hug, one shared one-armed on Risa as soon a she stands back up, settles down on a spare cot. The cot has the blankets, which Cita immediately piles all around herself, burrowing down into a semi-grumpy-looking pile of wool and down.

Does R'hyn care that Risali is over there having protests? No. No he does not. It's with his own brand of cruelty that he hangs on like that, makes her suffer, eyes scrunched up with mirth over a shit-eating grin when she finally stumbles back. NEENER, that expression says before it goes soft for the movement of the boychild in his lap. For a moment it's unclear if Heryn has heard her at all - sarcasm and hush-voiced admittances are both ignored in favor of listening to Zyriden speak, crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes in time with a crooked smile, the bronzerider offering up a low, "Okay, baby," when he says he's going to kiss him somewhere else, obediently shutting his eyes for the press of hands on either side of his face. The kiss earns a sunbright smile, gaze impish as eyes flick back open, R'hyn content to peer the minor distance between Zyriden and himself before darting in to place a mirrored kiss atop one chubby cheek. "I love you," he says, giving his son's head the gentlest of bonks with his own, and then he's peering up at Risali, something sad, heavy, apologetic in his gaze. "I'm—" Sorry. He can't get the word out, but it's there anyways, thick in the air between them, apology not just for her, but for all of them, the entire fucked up expanse of a family that could have changed in the worse of ways if things had been but a little different. It grips him, kicks breathing up a notch, nowhere near hysterics but no longer soft and relaxed, either. So he takes the change of subject and runs with it, issuing a clipped laugh and a wry, "You're probably right. To be fair, I think she invites half the trouble she finds." The rest? Not so much, but before he can comment on it, blue-grey eyes catch and seize on the uniform-clad figure of one of his weyrmates, and some small, unspoken thing unwinds just so. It's not quite the fullbodied sag Ila inspires, but there's honest warmth in the "Cita" he breathes against her temple, returning her hug one-armed but no less fiercely. He smushes a smooch against her face before she can make with the Risa-hugging, one foot lifting to hook on rails, the better to curl Zyriden in against his big body. "I don't think so, baby. I don't think daddy D'lei or daddy K'vir would like that at all." Understatement? "Besides, gramma Cita looks like she needs a homecooked meal and the world's biiiiiggest backrub." RED ALERT. HE SAID HOMECOOKED MEAL. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. BAIL NOW. AWOOOOOOOOOOOGA. He knows it, too, the mirthful glint in his eyes positively heinous as he watches the junior weyrwoman for her reaction to the prospect. "She looks like she's had a long day." That, at least, is an invitation for her to explain that grumping going on over there.

"Aweeeee," comes from Zyriden, as if R'hyn has just told him the sweetest dang thing as he patpatpats his Daddy's cheek and goes to give him YET ANOTHER KISS somewhere LESS BEARD on his face. Like, you know, his forehead. "I wuv you too, Daddy! You cute. Aweeee. I wuv you!" And there's another squish-hug from him, tiny raincoat-clad arms going around his neck for that exchange between parents that Risali doesn't want to deal with either. And maybe that's the reason for the change, maybe because she doesn't want R'hyn to know just how much she, despite every ferocious encounter, appreciates the father he is to their child. Maybe she doesn't want him to know how scared she was that he might be gone — from Ila, from Cita, from Yza and Ciar and Ibsy and Heri and… from Zyriden. From her. So she jumps on the opportunity to discuss Fire. "Do you mean the stuttering, falling all over herself half," comes dry, "or her shadow?" WHICH IS KIND OF AN INSULT TO SOHZEN. HE IS NOT HER SHADOW, OKAY. Then Cita is there, and Zyriden is catching at her shirt when she leans in for hugs and Risali leans into that one-armed hug when it's her turn and presses a kiss to Cita's cheek because FIGHT HER, THAT'S WHY. "No?" Zyriden asks, confused. "Why? Daddy and daddy no let Daddy sleep? It's okay, Daddy. You can sleep with me!" And WHERE ARE HER HUGS? R'hyn might call Cita Gramma, but Zyriden calls her, "MOMMY!" as he wiggles free and dashes over in his RAINBOOTS to hold up hands meant to assert that HE WOULD LIKE TO BE HELD, PLEASE. "Hiiiiiiiii Mommy! I wuv you! You want kisses?" And you had better believe the moment that Cita picks him up, he is going to smother her in a bunch of clumsy, over-wet baby kisses ALL OVER HER DANG FACE. Risali watches it for a long moment, and then shifts back in her chair. "D'lei and Kyzen wouldn't mind," Risali corrects, with brows that say it's her that'd fucking kill him in his sleep. Then her attention is on Cita. "So do you still…" a beat, a gesture at the outfit, "do that in your spare time? Or are you busting R'hyn out because I am putting the paperwork on your desk if the answer to that is yes and you better leave my name out of it." Not that you can really bust out a man who's only here for a checkup but listen.

"Ryn." A smile, woebegone and soggy might she be, does R'hyn get — maybe her gaze lingers a little, assessing, worried, but that's par for the course these days. Maybe it's stopped being occasionally-obnoxious. (Probably not.) Does Cita make a face like she's smelled the world's biggest weyrling gold mudpe, on the idea of home cooking, though? Yeah. She absolutely does, even shudders like a delicate Lady Holder who's never encountered a wher. "Faranth forbid." The healer mutters, looking maybe a little green about the gills. "Although, perhaps the 'Beginner's Guide to Cooking for Hold and Family' wasn't meant for me?" The haughty little head-tilt-eyebrow-raise suggests that it had better not have been. Still, the goldrider's smiling, eyes scrunching up around the edges as she surveys this little corner of her giant family with warm amusement. No griping — not yet, anyways, too amused by whatever's going on here, distracted by amusement. Aforementioned scrunchy eyes find the precious lil' outfit that Zyriden has on, and promptly does Cita lose all pretense of butt-kickin', grinning dopily at the kiddo. "I want all of the kisses." Cita is absolutely not going to turn Zyri away, who would do that?? Instead she scoops him and his muddle little boots up and squeeeeezes, smothering the baby with kisses. "I love you too, baby!" She laughs, turns the bright grin on Risa. "Both. Gotta make sure they've not got him under lock and key, here, right? And I might forget what a bandage is if I have to proof one more stock report, instead of wrap an ankle from the sharding rain." The goldrider adds a funny voice for the kiddo's sake, crosses both eyes and huffs, head shaking ponderously. Pbbbbfft! Rain!

It's a subject R'hyn, with infinite amounts of forcibly quiet time on his hands, has beaten to a bloody pulp. That horse couldn't come back to life if it tried. So he focuses on the cuteness in his lap, playing kiss tag with the tiny toddler until he's squirming away to visit his love upon Citalya, and only then does Ryn snort softly under his breath. "I was going to pick one or the other, but it's definitely both. I still don't know what to make of that whole… thing." Hands flutter through a series of gestures: towards the spot where the shadow in question confronted Ila'den, hand then rising high to indicate Sohzen, period, then form a globe around his stomach in imitation of a pregnant woman. 'Twice!,' he mouths, incredulity visible as he shakes his head. Madness all around. Luckily for her sensibilities (for he looked a split second from making ridiculous sex gestures), he loses his train of thought for that face his weyrmate makes, laughing quietly even as one hand raises to fluff too-short locks. "What? No. It's… it's mine. I thought it would. Help." You know. Help his meals be anything that one might generously term edible. He grins. "But if you want to borrow it, I don't mind. We could do a competition. Who made it better? Want to be a judge?" The last is for Risali, who he eyes in a distinct 'or are you a CHICKEN' fashion, grin bright, brighter, brightest until it eases away on an honest laugh. "If you say so." You won't see him taking his chances on her couch, though - he's had enough near-death experiences for the year. Possibly the decade. So he'll just shrug and aim a warm, pleased look at Cita over there receiving messy baby kisses, listening to baby-voiced words before — "Hey. I've been jailbroken! Just cause I'm in here to be checked up on doesn't mean I'm staying," said with paranoid defiance, gaze suddenly skirting the curtained space as though waiting for a well-timed healer to bounce out and crow a monologue about how this was all a trap. "Nope. Better not risk it. Let's go guys." He's already trying to stand, crutches just enough out of reach that it's probably hilarious, watching him starfish across the cot for them instead of asking for help. Typical.

Risali watches Zyriden, watches him pursue love and kisses and inflicting himself with devastating adorability onto R'hyn and Cita both. It's not until R'hyn speaks that Risa's eyes jump back to him, watch him go through the motions of FIRE and ZEN and the whole mystery of that and that and… She bites down on her bottom lip, kicks out with her foot to land it against UNBROKEN LEG (boot, socks, bare feet — she's not picky). Then she laughs. "I bet you it's all a lie. She dominates the shit out of that man and he addresses her as 'Mistress.'" A beat. "I bet he begs for it." AN ARCH OF BROWS, a look that says BUT DID YOU THINK ABOUT THAT, THOUGH and even though she's SO VERY, VERY INCORRECT, she's refocusing on Citayla. Her nose scrunches in humor, the Weyrwoman bites down on her bottom lip, and then she points one VERY ACCUSING FINGER at Cita. "Next time try to be here before Dad tries to get himself killed." SPEAKING OF LOCK AND KEY, there goes R'hyn trying to escape, Risa ROLLING HER EYES with exaggerated conviction as she gains her feet and pushes her hands against his shoulders. "No. No. No, I mean it. I have had to write and read and go over enough paperwork that starts with your name and I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose." AND MAYBE SHE WAS ABOUT TO SAY SOMETHING ELSE, because her attention was turning towards Cita when — "Risali?" an apprentice peeks from around the curtain, blinks as if started to find THREE PEOPLE THERE and then continues with, "We're ready for you." Lips press together for a fraction of a second and, "What was your escape plan again?" is whispered to R'hyn as she moves to retrieve Zyriden, as Zyriden, immediately realizing that he's going to have to leave, starts to fight and wail and reach for, "MOMMY! MOMMY NOOOOO! WANT MOMMY! WANT DADDY! WANT DADDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYY!" BUT LOOK AT RISA BEING HEARTLESS. She shushes him (it doesn't work), explains he can see the two later, and, with a grimace, waves for R'hyn and Cita both. "No paperwork. I mean it." BOTH OF YOU. And she gone, just like that. Well, kind of. She's obviously still there, because Zyriden is squalling a few beds down.

Gossip? About the love life of another healer? CITA WOULD NEVER. Actually, she watches like it's a tennis match, eyebrows raised, clearly Loving It — but doesn't seem to have anything to add. No knowledge of the situation, beyond what she's absorbing, sponge-like? Maybe. No response, though, from THIS prim, proper goldrider. Well, other than, "I'm going to tell Fire you're nattling like ladies by a hearth." because Cita is a brat, actually. A brat who's making tiny little cackle-noises, smooshing Zyriden with the good cuddles and kissing all over his little baby face and smirking Ryn-wards. "Help." Beat. "Sure, it's worth a try." Says Citayla in a tone that suggests that she very much doubts it, but is unwilling to make too much fun of her poor, injured Weyrmate. "Yeah, Risa. You can judge. I'd love to wipe the table with you, Ryn, I've been getting better." No. She hasn't. She really, really, really hasn't, while R'hyn might actually have had time to read that book. Setting yourself up for disaster, here, darling. Favoring Risa with a look that suggests Butter Wouldn't Melt, Cita hums under her breath. "It's hardly my fault that they don't pay attention to cliffs." When they're getting up to stuff that Cita's not going to mention, here, in front of the B A B Y, the wide-eyed look suggests. Too soon to joke? Oh, probably, but who said anything about politeness or, you know, Proper Family Etiquette here. Do proper families usually, uh — you know what, never mind. Risa's being called away, and Zyriden's doing what babies do when faced with disappointment, and Cita makes soft, consoling noises. "No, no, go with Mommy. Be good, baby." She tuts, face scrunched up only a little with This Makes Me Sad, but her tone is firm. SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA. Like now, standing, eyeing R'hyn with raised eyebrows, then the wailing toddler a few beds down. "Maybe if we leave, he'll settle. C'mon, up. Look at you, you look ridiculous." Cita says, not unkindly. Still. She's busting him out (of a place he's not a prisoner any more), so it has to count for something, right? RIGHT? "I'm going to come back for you!" That's for Risa, down the way, and yes, its a threat. She's got one task, right now, though, and that is get R'hyn out of here before he breaks something else trying to escape. Bless.

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