Crack of Dawn
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Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separating from the sands themselves by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher then the previous, and they are broken up into sections by 3 sets of staircases. Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony looms overhead, darkening some of the seats, providing a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.
When one looks over the railing, the oddly hued sand below can be seen easily, the circle-shaped area of the sands spread out to the far walls, the sand itself a unique mixture of red and white grains.


Dawn. Barely. The sun hasn't even made an appearance over the horizon yet, but hints of it can be seen. Pink at the edges. Dull gold. Rukbat will rise soon enough and the people of Xanadu with it. Some have already risen. Workers. Cattlemen. The kitchen staff who is busily making breakfast. And Ka'el. Ka'el was up a long ago in a strange house in familiar lands. Aching more today than last night, the rider took his leave after a quickly prepared meal, a clean wrap around his injuries hidden beneath his shirt, and a fresh set of clothing. The older couple bid adieu to their guest and the gleaming bronze, faces etched with worry. But it's none of their business. But oh, did he remind them of their Samuell.

Low and slow flight is all Kanekith was willing to do. He has no straps, and so Ka'el's balance and grip was all that kept him upon the dragon's neck. And the two of them made it to Xanadu just as the sun made its first peeking gesture above the horizon. Ka'el hurts in every way, but he hasn't time for that. Galaxy will need him at some point. Kanekith needs to return to the sands. And Soriana..will need breakfast. It's with breakfast that he enters the observation stands, wincing at every single step that brings him up until he reaches the top. Wincing takes a backseat to a brave face as he carries a doggie bag of stuff, a satchel over his shoulder, and a drink in his hands. Kanekith arrives below not long after, not liking his rider out of his sights for more than a moment. He rumbles deeply, a greeting to Luraoth, the eggs, and a reassurance to his rider that he is here and he will protect him always.

Soriana's sleeping. Finally. She stayed up late last night. After all, Ka'el said (she checked the note a few times) that he'd be back. Then, once she decided that he probably wasn't actually going to be back, she had a hard time actually getting to sleep. It didn't exactly help that Kanekith had left… and while Luraoth could tell her things weren't bad in some ways, the fact remains that there was definitely some kind of bad going on. Luraoth's awake, curled by her eggs, and she lifts her head slightly to answer Kanekith's greeting. Soriana… doesn't wake up yet. Dragon-rumbles are nothing new, and while this cot is not the comfiest she's ever slept on, it's a lot better than the floor or a bench. Zzz.

Still sleep. Well that's good. Sleeping is better than sitting bored to death, right? And if she's asleep, that means he won't be answering any questions right now which has to be a good thing. And so Ka'el creeps closer. Two steps. Five. Then…stop to grimace and inwardly curse about ten words til the ache subsides. Four more steps. towards that cot. A pause. At this rate he'll get to her at some point next turn! But at least she's not awake to watch him. If she was, those pauses would be far more difficult to take. Below, Kanekith lowers his head to Luraoth, greeting her by running his muzzle down her neck against the side of her neck ridges before he moves to check those eggmounds. How are his little champions doing? Ka'el finally makes it towards the Sleeping Sori, and his eyes settle on her a long moment before shifting away to a nearby seat. A good spot to drop off breakfast. He bends to put them down and immediately wishes he hasn't. "Shhhards!" He bites his tongue to silence himself, stuck at a half bend with eyes squinted closed. That family needs to invest in numbweed for their next battered visitor. He'll have to write them a letter of suggestion.

Luraoth croons to Kanekith softly, arching her neck to him. « You are back. » she says, and though the words are simple, there's a sense of questioning behind them. What was important enough to take him from the eggs? The sands no longer cover them entirely, their shells - bright and dark - exposed, carefully turned to warm evenly. Not that she didn't keep them safe - and not that she doesn't welcome his return, letting him approach with the same calm she's always shown this clutch-father and none of the defensiveness that sometimes shows for visitors in the stands. Soriana sleeps, until a sharp sound proves her sleep wasn't nearly so sound as she might have hoped. Her eyes blink. Once, twice, open, and… "Kale?" She shifts, sitting up on the cot. The sheet falls down, showing the loose tunic and trousers she's been sleeping in. Hardly dressed for visitors… not that this visitor hasn't seen her in less. Not like she has much choice when to receive visitors, lately.

« We are, both of us, » answers Kanekith whose muzzle is close to the yellow splotched egg. Placid eyes take on a purpleish hue as blue meets a tint of red. Dragons may not hold much in their memory, but Kanekith will not soon forget the enemy he's made in his mind. One who has harmed his Ka'el. « Within, he hurts. Without, he hurts. But he is safe. » As are Luraoth and those eggs, and so the taint of purple dissolves back to a deep blue as he settles down near her. He is hers again. Ka'el is caught in his bend, aching far too much to straighten as quickly as he would like to. In fact, as his name is said…his name…all he can do is continue to fight back the wince that keeps him frozen now. Until…gradually, he sets the bag of food down upon the plastic seat and the lidded cup of ice water before he slowly straightens, keeping his satchel shoulder-bound. "Mornin' babe…" A grimace, this not from pain. He forgot. "Soriana," he corrects. "Breakfast."

« You protect. » So Luraoth defines Kanekith's absence. He has protected his Ka'el. He will protect his eggs. There may be hurt, but there will also be safety and a formless warmth spun through with rippled kaleidoscope images of the shells around them. Soriana blinks again, pushing the sleep from her eyes. She had… dreams, last night. After she managed to finally fall asleep. Dreams of Ka'el gone. Dreams of Ka'el here. Dreams of Ka'el, different. So many dreams. But those are in the past, aren't they? She's told everyone else that. Leave the past behind. Dragons have a good point. Sometimes it's better to just… move on. So do it. "No," she says. It's not breakfast? …sure looks like it is, though. "You can call me that. If you want." Her expression flickers with a smile, but it's hard when she can see Ka'el's face. Or never mind his face, his mere body position. She frowns, a little. "Come here?" She reaches out a hand.

No? But…it is breakfast. Breakfast pastries and breakfast rolls and breakfast anything that he could put in a bag without getting soggy or being gross if pressed together. He even got little packets of jam. But, oh. She wasn't talking about that. His first smile is hours is seen now, ruined a bit by lingering traces of discomfort, but still…a smile. "Okay," he answers, holding onto the hard back of the seat in the next row in front of them because standing on his own two feet is taking more effort than he realized it would. Laying in bed and riding a dragon hadn't actually prepared him for the aftermath of being kicked. But he tries to keep his lean as casual a thing as he can make it, especially now. He's winning favor back, slowly but surely. But now she wants him to walk, and now that he's stopped, getting started again seems like a mountainous task. But her hand beckons him, and he truly wants to take that hand. And so..he walks, bullying back the initial curse that wants to make it out of his mouth and doing his best not look too much like an invalid in the process. He's only partially successful, especially considering how his hand slides from seat back to seat back to use as braces til he's close enough to reach for her hand, his slightly clammy. "You should…drink. Brought water. It's..probably ..cold still."

Soriana smiles back slightly as Ka'el does, but then… oh, she notices the way he's moving. It makes her smile go away and concern enter her eyes. That, and… she tries to hide the frown. The one that wants to come with a demand to know who did what and… she takes his hand. Not that she can do anything, stuck here by the sands. Not that she knows anything besides what random snippets people bring back. Luraoth's more interested in her eggs than in the world outside - or her rider. It's worse than weyrlinghood. Soriana gives her head a small toss, and her fingers curl against his. "I will," she says of that drink - though she doesn't move, yet. "Sit with me?" Because she wants the company, that's it. Not because he looks like he might fall over. Not at all.

But that's her cot, not his, and it's here for her comfort and… ah, to shards with it! He huuurts and while sitting down has its own set of difficulties, once he's /down/ it'll be just fine. And so Ka'el sits. Painfully. Slowly. His hand squeezes hers unintentionally as his every bruised rib and battered muscle complains at the bend necessarily made to sit and the brave face mask shows a crack as his features twist and distort. But he doesn't say anything. Not a word as he sinks onto her cot, exhaling a breath once his weight is down. The pressure on her hand is released and he looks over at her apologetically. He's sorry. It'd be the hundredth time he said the phrase, but for a different reason this time. But instead, he leans over towards her. Space be damned, he needs her, more now than he's ever needed her. He closes his eyes and asks no permission to rest his head on her shoulder, pressing his face to her neck, leaning his weight to her side all the while keeping her hand in his. Sorry for bothering you, Sori, and invading your bubble, but he needs you.

Soriana doesn't ask either. Not about the slow, sore movements Ka'el is making. Not about the way his face shows glimpses of pain - when it's not showing a mask that's just as revealing, in its way. Because he's hiding something, and for once, it's not because it's the hundred and first time of the same thing. The crushing of her hand… hurts. But. It's okay. Because it's just pain, and Soriana is herself right now, and she can take the pain. She can deal with it. It's not a problem. And maybe that's the thing of it. She can deal. It's almost a revelation, and it's a partial spark of the smile that greets his look of apology. Only a small smile. It's hard to smile in the face of pain. She doesn't know how healers - okay, she does know how healers do it, but that's different, and Ka'el's not her patient. He's… … …she draws in a breath as he leans his head to her shoulder. Her head turns to regard him for a moment, leaning there… and then she exhales and looks away, tilting her head to rest it lightly against the top of his. Yeah. He can lean against her. She breathes in again. Oh. The scent of … man. She hadn't realized how long. Her eyes close, thoughts drifting back through her memories. Very different ones than Ka'el's having, probably, but she doesn't know those. And she's not asking.

It's hot in here, and closeness to her is only making it hotter. But Ka'el doesn't care. He couldn't care less because although he chose to do this alone, the aftermath of it is too heavy for him to bear alone, much as he'd like to be that rock that crumbles not under pressure. Able to grin and bear it, or not grin but still bear on his own. Not now. One would have to be wholly inhuman to accept the rejection of family without at least a crack showing on the surface. And thus, Ka'el fractures. A deep fissure in his outer later that goes straight to the core, and he leans more against her, teeth gritting against the complaints of an injured body as his soul seeks comfort from the single one that came to mind when the need for comfort rose. Not Marel. Not Jnelle. Or Idrissa. Or even Niko. "Promise me somethin'," he says as the arm farthest from her, the same side that hosts the source of pain, is curled towards her, body shifting as well in order to loop his arm around her in a hug. "Promise that you don't stay with me just because you feel sorry for me."

Ka'el is a heavy weight, but it's not enough to push Soriana over. Not this time. She doesn't know what's brought him here - this state. Here, to the sands, she knows. It was her. Breakfast - going untouched, the ice in the water melting - and her summons to bring him closer. Her shoulder for him to rest on, her head to touch lightly atop of his, holding herself upright with muscles so as to not put the strain of her weight on him as he sags against her. Her hand stays with his, and her thumb slowly drifts, moving along. The shape of the calluses have changed, as he spends less time smithing and more time riding. Different work. Her head turns as he speaks, lifting from his in order to look down at him and listen. She reaches up, resting her hand against his arm. "I don't." Her voice is soft. Not understanding. Answering anyway. Her fingers trail along the curve of his arm, brushing their way into a hug in return. "I promise."

Oh, this is just his luck. He would enjoy this far more without the sharp reminder of where boot tip met ribcage time and time again. Ka'el would revel in the fact that there is no flinch and the stiffening that he feels from her doesn't seem as if it's done due to a desire to get away from him. Finally, things are beginning to change! The world was bound to eventually roll on, bringing them with it on whichever paths the whirlwind dropped them upon. And he does enjoy the moment of his arm around her and his hand on him nd their bodies pressed against one another without ill-feelings between them. Eased by her promise. But grimaces ruin the effect. Breathing shouldn't be so uncomfortable. Lips touch her neck. He can't help but to kiss her once, twice, before his head is pulled from her shoulde in order to look her in the eyes. "Do you…have numbweed?" he asks. "..I don't feel good."

This time, Soriana's fingers are hesitant because she can feel the winces from Ka'el. The difference is… subtle and loud as a roaring dragon. The way she leans toward slightly instead of away from. The way her torso is the still part and her fingers are the moving one. The way her breathing is even. …okay. So it's not quite even (blame those kisses for that?) but it's uneven in a good way. Unlike Ka'el's. She frowns at his question, but it's a worried one. The concern is obvious in her eyes, the way they're soft instead of hard. "…I can get some. The annex…" She knows where they keep it. …and that she can avoid questions there more easily than at the infirmary. Speaking of questions, though… her lips purse. She's having a hard time not asking.

The annex. So close, yet… so far! Ka'el's mouth pulls into a momentary frown, and he shakes his head. "No. Stay with Luraoth," he assures, though how long would it really take her to go and come back? "I'll get it." Because the dragonhealers will be so willing to relent numbweed toa rider for no good reason, yes? And the alternative would be the infirmary. Even further away, and then he'd possibly be trapped by Cyrus. Probably trapped by Cyrus, more like it. Sitting here is sounding better and better. He sees that look on her face. The slight tightening of her lips and the question in her eyes. She needn't say anything for him to know, and he sees no real reason to keep secrets from her. "It was gonna be bad. I…didn't want…to be somethin' you looked at that'd bring you more bad memories, y'know?" A feeble smile, then a swallow as he moves his hand to clutch at the shirt he wears, slowly pulling up the hem to show the gauze wrapped around his ribcage, though it isn't enough to fully cover the edges of purple splotches. "Partin' gift from my brother," said spitefully, grimace returning.

"You will not," Soriana says, lips flattening, and she gives Ka'el a stare. He'll be lucky if she lets him off the cot anytime today. Galaxy duties? Bah. If she can't get him put on sick leave, what's the good of being a junior weyrwoman? "I'll go. In a moment." Because, well… she wants to lean against him (or was he leaning against her?) for another moment. The question she has yields slowly to comprehension. A frown. A slow nod. She understands. She's not sure she agrees, but… she understands. Soriana shifts back a little, letting him draw back the shirt. Bandages. Bruises. "Shells and fucking shards!" Angry. Face. Glare. Soriana glares at those bruises as if she's going to make them go away by sheer force of will. It doesn't work, of course. They're immune to that. Bruises do heal, but willing them won't make them do it any faster. Soriana looks up at Ka'el, the anger still obvious in her eyes - though it's not directed at him. "I'm getting the numbweed. You stay right there." Or. Else. Today nothing, he'll be lucky to get back on duty within a seven. She fixes him with a look, then heads off. Numbweed, oh yes. She'll get him numbweed.

Ka'el winces. Not because of the bandages or because of her shout. Well, it is because of the exclamation, but not the volume of it. Anger! he knows the hot, burning feeling of it. He felt it the whole time, and he doesn't want that for her. That glare isn't meant for him, and he knows it, but seeing it has him frowning anyway as he lowers his shirt down. "S'alright. I'm alright.," he assures, even though that assurance is followed by a stick in the side and a dull ache to follow. The bandages aren't really helping. The couple, kind as they were, really didn't know what to do other than offer the young man a place to rest his obviously weary head. So Ka'el doesn't argue very hard, or at all for that matter, as she declares that she's getting numbweed. Thank Faranth. He wasn't sure just how far he'd make it down the stairs without it! "Okay," he agrees, touching her side solely because he yearns for touch. Physical assurance that she's still with him and he still has her and she hasn't yet slipped through his fumbling grasp like too many others now. "I'll be right here." Probably laying down by the time she gets back, hogging her cot. "I'll do my best not to take a jog while you're out." A half-hearted attempt at a joke.

Soriana doesn't believe Ka'el's claims of being alright, but she nods anyway. On the sands, Luraoth's head lifts, her eyes gleaming in concern, but Soriana just gives her a message to pass along. Ka'el won't be reporting for duties today. Because she says so. Her hand reaches down for Ka'el's as he touches her side, fingers curling around it to give a squeeze. She's still here. She's got him. Her expression softens for a moment. "See that you don't." Almost a smile, despite the set to her jaw. "I'll be right back." Soriana turns away, walking briskly. Her footsteps are loud. Normally she walks more quietly. Normally, she isn't angry. She's not gone for long - down the stairs, through the doorway, into the Annex. It's early enough that most people aren't there, and she knows just where to go (and how to look like she belongs). The supply shelves. Numbweed. Bandages. Redwort and sponges. There. It makes a little bundle, wrapped in a small (for dragonhealing) pad of cloth, and then Soriana slips out again. Her presence is noticed, but not remarked on. There'll probably be a dragonhealer by later to make sure it's not something wrong with Luraoth - but that amount of numbweed is trivial, for a dragon, so nobody's worrying. Except Soriana. She comes back up the stairs at a trot, and crosses to the cot to set down her supplies. She looks to Ka'el. To his side. To his eyes. "…gotta take the bandages off." It's gonna hurt. "Sorry."

Ka'el won't be reporting to duty? Oh surely he will! All he needs is a little numbweed, and he'll be good to go. What's a few cracked ribs? Pft. Cracked? More like bruised. Not even. Just mildly bumped. He'll be up and about in no time! Or so he'd like to make her believe with his joke and his grimaced grin that falls from his face once she's turned because it really does hurt and it really isn't ok. He listens to her heavy footsteps and eases himself back, getting ready to situate himself to lay down. But sitting still was working so well and movements to lay feels so awful that he changes his mind and stays seated. Yeah, he'll just wait here. And the wait isn't horribly long. Long enough to have him replay the events of the evening with a deepening frown, irritated that he's brought all of it back to her in the end, ruining his 'spare her the drama' plan. Friggin Kinden. And now she's back and the ache to his side takes a backseat to a glad feeling of seeing her and…bandages? "Eh..yeah." He gets it, nd he braces himself for it. "S'alright. You're not gonna see me cry over this." A smirk, but it won't linger long. Not when that shirt comes off, and definitely not when those bandages loosen their hold.

"Mmh," Soriana says to that brave claim. She doesn't exactly believe him, but… She's not going to go and tell him no. Not about that. She'll save her arguments for the part where he's not reporting for duty today. Not that she's told him that part yet. She will. When he tries to do it. Or possibly when she makes him see an actual healer? She hasn't decided on that yet. She'll see how it looks. The shirt is carefully helped off him, and then… time for the bandages. She settles herself on one knee next to the cot, and looks up to Ka'el for a long moment. "Okay." Her eyes lower to the bandages, and she starts unwrapping them. Very slowly. Very carefully. It's still going to hurt. She watches her hands. The bandages. What lies beneath. …not Ka'el's face.

It's not surgery. It definitely isn't a knife tearing into flesh. But that doesn't make the process hurt any less than it does. Bandages unwind, guided by Soriana's careful and slow movements, and the gentle pressure given by their tautness is slowly released, allowing bones to move and kicked muscle to expand and the process of both does not feel very good. Ow. Ow! Ka'el doesn't cry out, instead biting his tongue, unable to hide the grimaces. The squinting of his eyes. The sharp inhales of shallow breath accompanied by the tensing of his body. And eventually, the expletive that slips. The fingers of one hand curl and grip at the sheets of the cot as his wound is revealed. It's had hours to bruise up. A splatter of purple and blue and inflamed red upon his skin. "Not…so bad, eh?" Though he's not looking at himself now, eyes pried open and glaring down at the cot's surface. Beneath the surface of discolored skin, bones ache, though only one rib has suffered a minor fracture. Not that this can be seen or fixed with much else but rest. "Pretty as a picture."

Soriana doesn't need to see Ka'el's face, because she can hear him. The change of his breathing. The swears. The way his body moves. She focuses on her actions intently, because if she's thinking on the medical actions, she doesn't have to think about the fact that this is Ka'el hurt like this. But there are bruises. An injury. She knows what to do with those … on dragons, but it's the same thing. More or less. He speaks, and she can't help but glance up to him. The pain on his face. She swallows. "…yeah," she manages, and looks away (from his face) again. Injury. It requires treatment. She takes a clean cloth in one hand, the bottle of redwort solution in the other. The surface of the skin doesn't look broken, but… it's still going to get cleaned, just in case. Some of the redwort, poured on the cloth and gently blotted over the red and blue and purple. Just to make sure. It's a little easier when she doesn't see his face. As long as you ignore the funny sound in her voice. "I've seen worse." She has. They weren't on Ka'el, but she has. She'll get it cleaned, and then… the numbweed. A little pad to dab it on. Small, careful motions. Trying not to hurt as she tries to take the pain away.

Soriana knows what to do. Ka'el knew she would in this situation. Is that why he came to her? No. He came because he knew she probably didn't eat yet, and she'd need breakfast. And her water may have gotten hot over the night, and she'd be thirsty. But mostly he came because she was the only thing his mind would focus on this morning when he woke in a strange in a strange bed wearing stranger's clothing with a pain, both physical and mental, so sharp that he did want to cry. But he didn't. Instead, he came to her. And here is now being tended to with redwort that feels cold against his skin, causing muscles to jump before settling. No, there are no scrapes or cuts there. His eyes stay on the sheets, winced and tight. But it doesn't hurt as much as when the shirt came off, or when the bandages came off. The dabbing .. that barely hurts at all. Some of that wince fades. "Thank you." Then. ".. I always knew he never liked me. Didn't realize how much he hated me til now."

The numbweed salve is thick and strong. It's the lightest grade used for dragon injuries, which means it's more than enough to dull the pain of human bruises. Cracked ribs… not as much. It can't sink in that deeply. But it can deal with the bruising. It can make it so the pain won't be so much if he doesn't breathe too deep or cough or laugh… not that he seems likely to laugh, right now. Soriana focuses on her work, frowning a little as she works the numbweed over the surface. Dab it on. Let it start to take hold, to bring the faint tingle and the growing numbness, and then go back over those same spots and pat the salve a little more firmly to the skin. Not much. It's still a light touch, but… she knows what she's doing. Sort of. She's not a human healer, but… she's here. The ice-water's getting warm again. She hasn't touched it, even though her mouth's dry from a night in the heat. It's okay. The dry means her eyes can't get wet at the thanks from Ka'el. She gives a small, sharp nod of her head, focusing her gaze on his side. Has she gotten it all with the numbweed? Has she… "He's got no excuse." Not for this. Soriana looks up at Ka'el. A stare. Because if she focuses on being angry with his brother she doesn't have to hurt for Ka'el… and she's done applying numbweed.

Yes. That's feeling … less. Less painful. Less sharp. Ka'el's rigid stance begins to ease a little more as fear of movement dissolves with the pain. Oh, but it's still there. The ache inside and even upon the surface. Not everything is dull, but it's getting there, slowly but surely. Let it sit and do its thing. Ka'el's eyes close with a grateful exhale as the bite of pain downgrades to a gnaw and eventually less than even that. Thank the stars for numbweed. When eyes unveil they settle and stay upon Soriana, watching her face, reading her expression. Or at least, trying to. He lifts an arm to touch fingertips to the side of her jaw, tracing down the curve of bone to her chin. "One've these days I'm gonna stop bein' the one that brings you trouble an' makes you smile again, instead," he says, words coming slowly for too deep breaths disturb the ribs and jostle a bout of pain. His hand falls from her face. "You don't have to worry about him, or any've them. It's done." He says it as dispassionately as possible, despite the frown. "Can I have the numbweed?"

Numbweed's good like that. It dulls feeling. Takes away pain. Well… some kinds of pain. Soriana looks up at Ka'el, and it's obvious that some of the pain is the sort that doesn't go away from numbweed. Echoed emotional pain. Her Ka'el is hurt. There's the sadness in her eyes. The anger in the set of her jaw. He can feel the tension in her muscles there as his fingers move along it. They work in silence for a moment before she answers. "How about both?" Trouble. Smiles. Serious and fun. And… she frowns, and reaches for that fallen hand. "It isn't. They want to - to kick you out, fine." The tone of her voice, the flash of her eyes says it's anything but. She blinks it away. That sort of pigheaded assholder, she can't do anything about. "But they - he can't just hurt you." Her jaw sets again. "Black Rock's in Xanadu's area." There are things. They can be done. She can find the paperwork. She can… her fingers curl against his, and she glances to the numbweed. Back to Ka'el. "That depends." Her voice gains back a little bit of control. Healer-patient conversation. "What are you going to do with it?" Answer carefully.

Ka'el catches her hand as she reaches for it and holds it within his. Both? He was both for her before, wasn't he? Once upon a time in a land far, far away, he was a jester. A clown. A trickster to laugh with and at and among. And in quiet moments on hilltops, he was serious and serene. He was both, a long time ago. He can be both again. Eventually. Soon. Right now, there is no jest to make. Soriana seems serious. Serious with her anger and serious with her intent of vengeance. "Baby.." he squeezes her hand, the once again accepted term flowing easily from his mouth now, volume just as soft as before. "It's not gonna help. Nothin's gonna change him, an' anything he gets is gonna jus'..piss him off. He's a shardin'…prick. Let'm have this one." He draws her hand closer to him, movements still deliberate despite the numbness to his injuries. What will he do with it? "I've got to have some out there. If it starts to hurt…Shards. We've got mornin' formation in a little bit." That, he doesn't need Kanekith for. "Shit. Need my uniform.." Which is all the way back in his weyr! Grimacing, he starts to shift, aiming to scoot off the cot and stand.

Soriana's fingers curl against Ka'el's, returning the squeeze. The touch. A hug to a hand, since she's not going to give him a proper one. "I don't want to help him." A frown. Oh, yes, she's angry. Later, maybe her emotions will have settled. Now? A deserted island sounds about right. Abandoned there, with nobody coming to pick him up again. "I want to…" Her fingers tighten. A squeeze. Ka'el's hand there is what keeps them from becoming a fist, because she's not going to crush those fingers. Well. Not for long. The fingers relax a bit as he draws them closer. He explains his need for the numbweed, and Soriana smiles. It's a grim sort of smile. Satisfied, in a way. Not happy. But satisfied. "No you don't." She stands up, reaches her other hand to his good shoulder. Keeping him down. Keeping her eyes on him. "You're off duty today." And he hasn't even filed any forms for it! Luraoth's thoughts are a dusky purple as they reach for Kanekith. « If he goes, he will hurt. » There are layers of meaning to the thought, like the dapple of bruising. Hurt, the simple pain that's still there. Hurt, a worse pain that might be.

« He will hurt, regardless. » Kanekith reaches tendrils to Luraoth, purple grasped by blue-black whisps that swirl within her thoughts. « He listens not to you or to me. He is stubborn. » Unlike Kanekith himself, who is the epitome of obedience. Those tendrils lighten in hue to a more hopeful color. A nighttime sky given way to dawn. « Perhaps he shall listen to her. He listens to her, always, even when his face shows he is not. » Ka'el doesn't mind the slight crushing of his fingers. It's a a tender hug in comparison to what other regions of his body felt. "I know what you want to do." Something mean and hurtful because those feelings mirror his. "But you won't cuz I don't want you to." Not entirely the truth. She's a weyrwoman. Maybe she could cause his brother well-deserved strife. Payback. Something to wipe the smug grin off of his face. But he doesn't retract his statement, though he does snort as he's pressed back down to rest. Off duty? "Says who?"

« He will. » Luraoth lets the dark color bring gloom to her thoughts. Hurt. A shadow moving across the universe. But it doesn't last forever, does it? Even the darkest night yields at last to dawn. Soriana scowls to Ka'el as he says she won't do those dark things she wants to, but… she doesn't argue. Yet. Not with that. Who says he's got the day off? "Me." Oh yeah. She's a weyrwoman. Sure, technically the wings report to their wingleaders and then the weyrleader, but funnily enough - "Luraoth's already told them you won't be there." - when a gold dragon says something, the others listen.

Her? Oh well…no arguing that, right? Ka'el eyes her. A day off? But! He remember waht K'vin told him. If he hopes to be anything more than juse a rookie footsoldier, he has to work and overwork and get noticed! He definitely won't be noticed in here. But..oh. It does feel good to rest and not do anything, and so after quite a bit of eyeing, he…settles. "A day." Which may stretch to two or seven, depending. But in his mind: One. Day. Because laying here is going to make him remember, and remembering is going to make him hurt and miss them and feel loss. Not so much with Kinden, but the others. "You're gonna need this back, anyway…" More good points, yes? But for now, as the sun rises and the weyr wakes up to a new day, Ka'el lays back and relaxes his body. He exhales, long and slowly, eyes closing with it. He's going to sleep now without meaning to or realizing it, giving himself time to heal the physical. The other stuff? Time.

Soriana eyes right back. She's stubborn too, and Ka'el isn't going anywhere today. Tomorrow? …well, it's not looking so good either. Besides, Luraoth's already told the other Galaxy dragons. The leader of the squad has been informed that Ka'el… won't be there. Luraoth didn't give details. Just that the bronzerider would be absent, and it was Soriana who said so. They're probably assuming it's something to do with Kanekith being clutchfather. So, really, it's too late for today, and as Ka'el gives in, Soriana nods firmly. "Yeah." A day. To be followed by another day. And as many as are necessary until a healer - a real one - clears him for active duty once more. But a day's a good start. Sure, she'll need her cot back, but… "I've got to have breakfast first." He brought it to her, after all. Soriana's fingers linger on his shoulder until his eyes close, and then she steps away for a moment. Just long enough to grab food and drink, and then she comes back, sitting down carefully on the edge of the cot. Where she can trail her fingers through Ka'el's hair with one hand, and sip her water and slowly eat… a little bit… of food. Only a little, before she sets it aside and frowns in thought until those thoughts summon a brown firelizard to bring her paper and pencil and then - once she's slowly written out a message, with much erasing and many pauses to stroke Ka'el's hair and watch his breathing as he sleeps - to take her message to its destination. Because she's only a junior weyrwoman, and while she can order Ka'el off duty for a day… sometimes you need to ask for help.


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