Fort Weyr - Central Infirmary
This room looks fairly similar to most other infirmaries, with it's faint scent of antiseptic and an eerie quiet that goes along with convalescence. Rows of cots line both walls, each separated by a privacy screen. Breaking the line of cots along the outside wall is a entrance to the dragonhealing section of the infirmary. The far end of the oval room is filled with metal cabinets that hold the tools of the Weyrhealers trade, as well as a desk from which the healer can supervise his domain. Upon one wall rests a thick 'chart' containing the information on all patients within the infirmary.

The infirmary is busy tonight. The time is past midnight but not yet dawn, that time when most people are deep asleep and resting…only right now in Fort most people are awake. Especially in the infirmary. Candidates came in first, along with D'ani, the Candidates sporting mostly cuts and bruises. Then some guards and some riders, and last (because he has to be last the stubborn ass) comes Th'ero and Kimmila, the bluerider holding a cloth to her shoulder as she tries to support Th'ero's entrance into the infirmary. "Will you get it looked at /now/?" she hisses angrily at him.

To be fair, Mirinda was probably already awake. Though her rank offers her the shifts she wants, she's never been a fantastic sleeper — and if any chaos is going to be sewn in her infirmary, she is going to be there. She's stepped into a supervisory role initially, directing staff here and there to deal with this bruise and that scrape. The Weyrleader, however, should be getting the best attention, and so she sets the patient charts she's been making up down and stands up straight to try to meet either Kimmila or Th'ero's eye. That does need to be looked at and she's not doing anything, see?

Th'ero is a stubborn ass because he puts everyone ahead of him. Candidates get checked over first because they're important. So are the Guards and his Wingriders. Kimmila should know the answer to her angrily hissed question. "No," he growls back. "You're to be seen first." She's bleeding. He's… not so much? An arrow to the shoulder is bad, but at least the shaft keeps bleeding to a minimum. Right? Just ignore his pained expression behind that scowl of his. Mirinda is given a once over look, wary and stubborn. Lucky her, if she gets to try and coax him into cooperating. "She's been injured to her shoulder…" he begins to explain and if he had the strength, he might have tried to (gently) foist her forwards. Only he doesn't, so he just stands, waiting and leaning (and trying not to show it) against his weyrmate's side.

D'ani's sleeping like a baby. Well. Pretty damn close, anyway. He's over there in a corner where a couple of healers remove that bullwhip tourniquet before he loses the entire leg. The knife's still in his thigh and they'll be doing something about that presently. Hopefully? Because if he wakes up and it's still there? He's not going to be happy. Oh yes, and one more thing: these carted to Weyr on stretcher dates SUCK. He'd like a real one, kthnx.

"No, not D'ani!" one of the Healer Apprentices whispers as they hasten past. "He's so /handsome/!"

Kimmila /scowls/ at Th'ero and she'd shove him except…she doesn't /actually/ want to hurt him. "Arrow over knife gash, really, Th'ero, sit DOWN." And she'll shift her body slightly to prove a point. He can't stand on his own. "We'll both get worked on at the same time you stubborn jackass." It comes from love, really. Eyes scan the infirmary and the sight of D'ani has her wincing. "Shit. How did we get so f'd up and the Candidates only got scratches and bruises?"

If Mirinda had heard the apprentice — which luckily for them she didn't — there would be some whispered comment about not letting an attraction to the bronzerider's face influence his care in either direction. But they're safe from that for now; instead, she's apparently measuring just how lucky she wants to be. Kimmila's got the right of it, though: "Yes, Weyrleader, wingsecond, here, we can put you together —" They can both sit on the one cot she's waving at, as she raises a hand up and gestures for a journeyman with bandages to come that way to help with bandaging. "So long as you're both able to sit up unsupported? Anyone want to brief me on how this happened while I'm doing repairs, by the way?" Her voice is kind, patient; there's only the slightest hint of a smile behind what is almost pure respect.

Th'ero's eyes narrow and he levels Kimmila with a glared look when she commands him to sit down. He would have dug his heels in but she shifts just enough and he wavers as his strength fails and he has to clutch the edge of the cot to avoid toppling. "Damn it," he swears under his breath and then sinks to the cot sullenly. FINE. See? He's sitting. "Satisfied?" he growls, only to bite his tongue as Mirinda addresses them again. Another wary look is sent her way, "I can sit." he informs her in a flat tone. "And renegades happened. Don't shardin' know how but it did. And your guess is as good as mine, Kimmila. We're getting old?" How pleasant.

Another Healer, Sr. Apprentice in rank, is bustling about on the tasks given to her by the Journeymen on duty. Laurali will be on hand to help those who tend to D'ani, the girl barely managing to keep from rolling her eyes when she hears a younger Apprentice whisper. She'll remain by the Weyrsecond's cot, until her work is done (mostly the small things and tidying up… joy?) or she's called away.

Kimmila sits beside him, nodding firmly. Yes. She's satisfied. She snorts. "Old? Hardly." Maybe. .. okay yes. STILL. She shifts the makeshift cloth against her shoulder to peer at her wound, still oozing. It'll need a few stitches for sure, and a loss of mobility for a while. Yay? They can have matching arm slings. His and Hers.

If D'ani had heard the comment, he'd have groaned audibly. Could he please get a few facial injuries in these things, geez! It's bad enough that the elderly kitchen servers pinch his cheeks when his hands are busy with his tray and he can't deflect them. He's practiced his ducking and side-step techniques though? He's getting better… So how DID the riders get mauled and the candidates get off with just scratches? They're just…lucky like that? Or something. Okay, no really, they're magnets for arrows and knives, the clutzes. He's not awake to growl no fellis and thus the injection given will keep him asleep when the trio of healers prepare to re-tourniquet him, cut the leg to his jeans and remove the knife. Look ma, no screaming.

Abigail is making her way into the Infirmary, along with Hazelon whom she is making sure is not trying to escape as from what she could tell he was hurt as well from the way he was moving. She's hurt like other riders but honestly she is a bit worried about the Candidates seeing how serious it I with them and the eggs and the like. Her gaze drifts over the ones here, spotting Th'ero, Kimmila and D'ani, the Weyrsecond is given a slight look with a soft breath escaping her. As for herself her right shoulder is bloody, along with her left arm, both knife wounds that will need some attention but she isn't moving to try and get anyone attention. Once near a now free cot which is near Th'ero and Kimmila she points at it for Hazelon to have a seat. "Go on and sit down, no arguing over it neither."

"Fate says the candidates need to be in better shape for Hatching than you do — and neither of you are old," Mirinda banters, because she is talking and keeping up conversation in order to be semi-distracting as she also examines wounds. Which involves touching them, of course. It's actually Kimmila who gets a quick exam first, after a verbal, "I assume you don't mind if I —" as she wouldn't touch anyone without permission, even a series of riders with bad luck. Her expression is so calm-neutral it's utterly unreadable, but at least that's to be expected. Abigail and Hazelon's entrance comes right on the tail of her letting Kimmila put the cloth she's got back before the other journeyman steps in to clean it, and Mirinda just looks at them for a moment. "You sit as well, Wingleader, you look awful," is more a suggestion than an order. And now back to Th'ero. "You'll want pain relief before I pull that out, I take it, sir?"

Hazelon isn't about to argue, as he's still more than a little stunned from the abrupt turn of events. Though he walks slowly and painfully there doesn't appear to be much in the way of injuries along his body, other then some dark marks forming on the back of his neck. It is possible that the rest of it is just dirt, as Hazelon is filthy, almost like he went rolling in the dirt several time. Abigail's order to sit has him sitting, an arm coming up to gently press against his chest.

"I certainly feel old." Th'ero grouses. Just ignore him, he's being a sullen child! His mood does improve a little when Kimmila is tended too, but soon falls again when he spots D'ani on his cot and passed out cold. "He'll be alright?" he asks out loud, though from the way his eyes shift to Mirinda, he likely expects her to be a wellspring of information and know the status of the Weyrsecond. Beyond what he can see, obviously. "Wingleader!" Not Abigail too? Shells and shards, Kimmila wasn't joking! They did get themselves thrashed. Pain relief? Th'ero may be stubborn, but he's not about to undergo having the arrow removed with all his senses in place. He levels Mirinda with another look. "No fellis. Any other painkiller. Numbweed, even." Even if it'll just dull it… he'll suck it up. While he's preparing for what is about to come, Th'ero spots a filthy Hazelon taking his seat and the Weyrleader says nothing, save to watch him settle himself.

Kimmila reaches out for Th'ero's free hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Abigail. Hazelon," she says softly, giving each a once-over and look of concern. She'll sit and be tended to, her shoulder wound just needing to be cleaned and have five stitches.

Cleaning, Mirinda will let the nearest journeyman do just fine, but stitches are a good training experience whenever there's someone around to be watched, so she stands up a little straighter and calls out, "Laurali! Come here and close the wingsecond's wound, please?" She's seen Laurali stitch before, surely; there's someone there who can supervise, and there's no need for any concern. Another apprentice gets ordered to fetch numbweed, ice water and towels as Mirinda nods to Th'ero. "Of course; no need to take any hits to your mental capacity. Numbweed should be just fine, if it's given a few moments to soak in." Which is now what it's getting, as the apprentice hands over the supplies and she can glove her hand and do her best to numb the shoulder. It won't go as deep as might be desired, but. Arrows, man.

Right. There's someone around giving orders. But none of those have been directed to Hazelon just yet other then 'sit'. So sorry if he's a bit dazed, but that's exactly what he is going to do. His eyes move across the scene, a mental calculation of every single injury soaking into his brain.

Laurali finishes up with her work helping the Journeymen by D'ani's cot and when she hears her name, she will look up and nod. "Of course, ma'am." she murmurs and then hastens off to scrub her hands and disinfect them again. One of the other Apprentices brings her one of the wrapped towels holding sterilized supplies and carefully lay it out while Laurali approaches Kimmila. "Wingrider? I'll take care of the stitching. May I?" she asks, with a small but gentle smile. Should the bluerider consent, Laurali will numb the wound first once she double checks to be certain it's been properly cleaned out. Next she tests to be sure the skin has sufficiently numbed before she begins her work. Just like mending a seam… err, maybe not quite, but though she works slow, her work is good. Five neat stitches. "And there we are."

Th'ero allows Kimmila to take his hand and he will squeeze it back. To Mirinda, he looks a touch relieved when the Healer promises there will be no fellis involved. Despite his earlier wariness of her, he'll sit still while the numbweed is applied, the only movement being that of his head as he turns it to inspect those laying or sitting on cots or being tended to. "How many Candidates?" he asks to Kimmila, glancing sidelong to Laurali when the girl approaches. The look he gives her is just as dark and wary as the one Mirinda earned earlier. To her credit, the Sr. Apprentice doesn't balk and focuses on her work in stitching Kimmila's shoulder. "Hazelon," Th'ero calls out the youths name, though not in a commanding tone. "Are you alright?" Wait, what?

"Not a wingsecond," Kimmila mutters, but does it really matter? No. "Not a wingrider either. Call me Kimmila." Sullen. Grumpy. Exhausted. She sits still while the numbweed is applied, and while Laurali puts in the stitches. The bluerider watches curiously as they're put in, distantly observing as exhaustion begins to creep up on her. "Thank you," she murmurs to Laurali. "'preciate it." How many Candidates? Kimmila looks around. "Four? Five?"

Hazelon's head jerks up to come to rest on Th'ero when he calls out his name. An attempt at a deep breath to answer has him coughing abruptly, bending over as the pain of what will only be serious bruises cascades over him. No answer comes as he curls upon himself , seeking to breath more shallow.

"I apologize, ma'am," Mirinda is not very good at first-name-basis even if it's directly requested of her — it usually has to be requested repeatedly in a social setting. This is work, and work is all about titles and propriety and, apparently, the occasional mistake, "I misunderstood an earlier discussion about Phoenix Wing's structure, most likely —" Not, of course, that it currently is all that relevant, so she trails off to blot a little at the numbweed and make sure it's set. She never understood the construction of wings anyway, so even if someone tried to explain what Kimm actually does? She'd have gotten lost. "All right," she says more definitively and a little louder, standing up straighter. "I do apologize for any further discomfort; I'll have this out as quickly as possible." At least arrows are not the worst thing to have pulled from one's body — the track it made going in is the track it's going to follow coming out. Mirinda doesn't even breathe for a couple of seconds before she wraps both hands around the arrow and swiftly pulls upward, a trained gesture that might make one wonder how many other times she's done this. (Too many, though they weren't all arrows.) It's better not to give the patient a chance to brace muscles before just getting it done, after all. The projectile is handed to another apprentice; she's swooped in to soak blood and clean around the wound before most people have even realized she's finished the job.

Somewhere in the course of things after Laurali is called away, the healer attending D'ani stitches his knife wound shut. It's not a wide gash, but it's deep and there's blood vessel and muscle to close before skin. The process takes quite some time before finally a pressure dressing is applied to finish it off. He'll require nothing but monitoring, checks to make sure he's not bleeding and that his color looks appropriate for someone whose lost a good amount of blood. The weyrsecond won't be a demanding patient - at least not tonight. Tomorrow he might be growly though. Especially if the giggle apprentices are on duty. Please, Faranth, no!

"Nyalle will not like to hear of this," Th'ero mutters under his breath, meant for Kimmila's ears but if Mirinda overhears (and she will), the Weyrleader figures she'll keep it to herself. Not that it'd be too hard to guess just how the Weyrwoman is feeling about all of this. Kayeth on the sands, Weyr put into chaos, half her leadership down and out, Candidates roughed up. Oh, it'll be a pleasant morning indeed. Seeing Hazelon double over, Th'ero tenses and readies to say something only Mirinda is pulling the arrow free. Numbed flesh only helps so much and he certainly feels some discomfort. Enough that he swears under his breath and flinches from the motion of the arrow being pulled upward and out. "Someone…" he hisses through gritted teeth. "…needs to see to him." Hazelon. Second time in one night the Weyrleader has said something of the like. He'd do it, only he's currently occupied and held in place by Mirinda patching his shoulder up.

Laurali, however, has finished with her work and has the Apprentice clearing the used supplies and tools as she inspects her work and waits for a Journeyman's approval before considering it done. She bobs her head politely to Kimmila, "You're welcome. You know the proper care?" she asks. Standard procedure and if the bluerider isn't familiar, Laurali will run over the necessary care and the usual 'what to look for that is Bad' in a healing wound. "Ma'am?" Her head turns to Mirinda and she glances to Hazelon. "If I may?" She can at least do the basic stuff without immediate supervision, right?

Kimmila snorts. "Who cares?" is Kimmila's callous reply to Th'ero, low voiced. She doesn't care about anything right now. Her hand squeezes his firmly when the arrow is pulled free, and she watches Hazelon with a frown. "Now," is her added on the end of Th'ero's words.

Mirinda's certainly good for that; a secret revealed to her whether accidental or on purpose is one that stays secret. Of course, still being awake after a long day one doubts whether or not Mirinda will actually remember. Th'ero gets a second layer of numbweed applied and then careful windowbox bandaging done. "Yes — yes, of course," Mirinda urges Laurali with the sort of smile one delivers when you're trying to be kind and encouraging and keep things moving in a mass casualty incident at the same time. "Get him stabilized and let me know if you need anything," though one of the other journeymen is likely to be the one to assist her there, as the Weyrhealer's got to keep everyone coordinated at once. And that means that once she has Th'ero's wound set, she's got to go coordinate care again instead of actually getting to do anything. The one regret from accepting this particular post; at least her first major Event at Fort isn't exploding messily all over her. Too bad she hadn't been looking for a chance to prove herself.

That arrow getting yanked is enough to have Hazelon cursing under his breath. There are people hurt worse then him. He doesn't wait for a healer to trot on over. Instead he'll slowly, oh-so-slowly begin to pull his shirt off and over his head. This will reveal large bruises that alre already begining to purple across his chesk and back where Ustrr's feet had connected solidly.

Th'ero just grits his teeth and man's up while Mirinda finishes bandaging his shoulder and once freed from her ministrations he will tentatively roll his numbed shoulder to test the range of motion he has with the arm. Not much. His mood darkens, but he holds his temper in check for a little longer. "Wingmate," he murmurs low to Kimmila, turning his head so he can look down at her, his expression difficult to read. "Are you alright…?" He's probably asked this already but he asks it again.

Laurali doesn't hesitate or balk when Hazelon jumps ahead and strips. It saves time and she's not about to reprimand him for it. It'd just be a waste of time. Her brows knit at the sight of those dark bruises and she murmurs a few requested supplies to the nearest Apprentice. "You took quite the brunt of it," she remarks, her smile faint and a little crooked. Her eyes examine those bruises and then she meets Hazelon's gaze (if she can). "May I? I will have to examine the bruises, check to be sure you've not got some damage below." Just as she had with Kimmila, Laurali seeks Hazelon's consent before she dares lay a single finger on him.

Kimmila just sits there, staring at the ground. "Yeah," she mutters. "I need to go lay down. You'll go see Nyalle?" She glances at Th'ero, her expression blank. Exhausted. "Or tomorrow?" She looks around at the others, relaxing a bit when she sees D'ani has been tended to, and wincing at the sight of Hazelon's bruises. She hisses between her teeth. "He's going to pay for this…" She /means/ Ustrr. Odds Hazelon thinks that pronoun means himself? Fairly good?

"Yeah." It comes through gritted teeth. Hazelon is already fairly sure of what she'll find though. Those ribs hurt; breathing hurts, but it isn't a sharp pain like something broken would create. He sits up straight, his eyes moving to fall onto Th'ero, and that shoulder of his. Whatever goes on behind those dark eyes will just stay a mystery.

Laurali isn't there to probe Hazelon's mysteries or deepest thoughts and secrets. She is there, however, to (gently!) poke and prod around those bruises. Most only draw mild concern, but when she reaches his ribs her fingers linger longer. "Does it hurt you to breath? Can you breath in and exhale for me…?" she asks softly and waits, eyes carefully observing him.

Th'ero exhales heavily and wearily shakes his head. He's starting to feel the exertions of the night and drained from his injury. "Not tonight. I'm exhausted and the numbweed won't last long. Best I seek sleep now." Because his shoulder won't let him once the numbing wears off. He could take fellis, but he won't. Wine will do, just to relax him enough to troubled and light, broken sleep. "He will." Th'ero growls in agreement before taking her hand firmly in his again and squeezing. "You've the strength to make it to our weyr?" Does he?

Kimmila gently moves off the cot and adjusts her arm slightly, wincing, but satisfied. She squeezes his hand back. "Damn straight," she agrees. They'll get there together. "You going to be okay, Hazelon?"

Hazelon nods in the affermative when Laurali runs her fingers across his chest. Then, upwards to Kimmila. "Yes." A man of few words tonight, and piles of silence as the teen begins to piece together his shattered night. "I think… just bruises." Deep ones.

Abigail had made sure the healers got to look over Hazelon first it seems. Yes she doesn't look that great but let's face it she is dealing with it well, she's done this before. She lets a hand move to rub across her eyes while half listening to the conversations around her and just waits her turn it seems.

Laurali's deepening frown says otherwise and she will lower her hands and step back, flagging the nearest unoccupied Journeyman to go over her observations. It takes but a few moments and then she is looking back to Hazelon, her expression carefully schooled not to look too grim. Firm, concerned but otherwise neutral. "You've some deep bruising along your ribs but far as I can tell they're not cracked or broken. So long as you do nothing to aggravate the bruising, it should fade in time." she informs him and already she is reaching for some of the numbweed. "I can numb them for now. For later, if you think you need it, I can discuss a mild painkiller with one of the Journeymen? It's not a necessary thing, only if you need it to be comfortable." Abigail's turn will come soon enough! Healers will approach her and ask her a few questions while examining her wounds and cleaning them out. Setting things to right.

Th'ero is too exhausted by then to show much in the way of emotion beyond weariness and grimness. He does, however, look subtly relieved for Hazelon's one word confirmation and what little he hears of Laurali's diagnosis. No severe injuries? Good. There's a worried glance to Abigail, but he knows he has to move now or he'll be spending the rest of the night on the blasted cot he's sitting on. "Come," Th'ero mutters, slowly standing to his feet and helping Kimmila up — or so he makes it seem. He needs her support, likely as much as she needs his (with what strength remains). "Rest well… as well as you can," he says to Hazelon and Abigail both. "Clear skies…" The morning will bring more trials. Best they all get some sleep, what little they can.

Kimmila stands beside Th'ero. They'll support each other. "WE'll see you all tomorrow," she manages softly, making her slow way out with the Weyrleader.

Hazelon's gaze finally moves back to Laurali as the Weyrleader and wingrider move out the dooray. A simple nod, he's still processing everything right now and isn't quite up to the whole converstion thing. A glance over to Abigail, is she okay?

Abigail does go about answering questions and letting the healers do what they wish. She'll need stitches but it'll be fine. Or at least that is how she'll go about thinking on the mater. She glances to Th'ero and Kimmila offering them both a nod. "Rest well, clear skies for ye both." She sends a glance back to Hazelon and she takes in a soft breath before offering him a faint smile.

Laurali's gaze follows the Weyrleader and his weyrmate out as well before her eyes flick back to Hazelon and she bobs her head respectfully. No conversation? Fine. She will respectt that as she dips her fingers in redwort to stave off the numbweed working on her fingers and then will set to applying the numbing salve to Hazelon's skin. She works carefully, trying to avoid unnecessary discomfort. "There. That should help for the next few candlemarks or so. Just keep applying the numbweed when needed. Use redwort to keep from numbing your fingers. Aside from that, it's light work and plenty of rest. A bath would do wonders," And not just because he's filthy! "Warm water will help. A good soak. Is there anything else you need?" she asks, lingering just long enough to hear his answer.

Hazelon shakes his head slowly, just… taking everything in for the moment. Seeing Abigail being taken care of eases some of the worry that is taken in, even as slowly ice crawls up to defy the warmth of summer nights and curl around his heart.