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.


One perk of being the Weyrleader means getting the "best" spot in the Infirmary or, at least, one that guarantees privacy. Not that there's much privacy to start. He's swarmed over by Healers as they examine him from head to toe and clean him up. He's cut out of his clothes, his leg numbed and then dosed with fellis. This time there's just no option and no matter how much Kimmila argues against it, she's overridden by the Master Healers (or tossed out of the Infirmary for the time being). They work swiftly at resetting his leg, binding it properly and then checking over the other injuries. Final diagnosis? Clean break to his leg, superficial cuts and bruises and a bad knock to the head but nothing overly concerning. "He'll wake up when he's ready," One Healer assures Kimmila and then they leave to tend to other patients and leave the Weyrleader to recover behind a closed curtain. Kimmila's got a long wait too, if she stays there by his side as Th'ero won't wake up until late the next morning. "Wha…? Velokraeth, hush…" Th'ero groans feebly, swallowing thickly and trying not to grimace at the dryness of his mouth.

Kimmila doesn't protest the fellis, actually. She just grits her teeth and is silent, hovering out of the way as they work on him. The prognosis is met with relief, but his continued unconscious state is unnerving to say the least and Kimmila spends the night by his bedside, dozing off and jerking awake with a guilty start each time. When he finally awakes she jolts awake once more, rubbing at her face. "Th'ero…" she says, her voice gruff from all the smoke she inhaled.

Can someone get Velokraeth to stop? Th'ero's head is pounding enough as it is and he can't figure out why his bronze is crowing with relief and all but drowning him in a mindscape of celebratory mead. "Kimm…?" he calls hoarsely as his eyes crack open and focus on her. Why does she sound all gruff? Wait. "Where… the Infirmary?" Why is he here? He starts to move and then with a jolt it all comes flooding back. Forest fire. Ha'ze and Ustrr. That renegade… and the fall… "Damn it! Where's Ha'ze? Ustrr? What's happened?" he asks, growing more agitated despite his current state and he tries to sit up but moves to fast and jars his leg, bringing a hiss of pain and a grunt of surprise. The world starts to spin next and then the after effect of why Th'ero hates fellis so much: he throws up but mostly gags on nothing as his stomach is mercifully empty.

Kimmila is kind of quick (she tries to be quick) to place a hand to his chest. "Th'ero, lay down…" she says firmly. "Ha'ze is fine. Ustrr is dead. The fire is getting contained and it might snow today. Lay down…" Or…throw up first and /then/ lay down.

Th'ero is going to owe Kimmila so much after this. Once he's certain his stomach is done rebelling and expelling whatever contents it has left, he will lay back. He's not go the strength to fight her and, really, what would be the point? His eyes have closed again but his chest rises and falls with breathing that is too heavy and erratic to be restful. No, he's just trying to gather his thoughts and control his temper. "How? What… happened? How'd — how'd I get here?" he mumbles, turning his head to look up at her through heavily lidded eyes.

Kimmila keeps her hand on his chest, more caressing than pressing now as she leans forward, her brows furrowed. She smells of smoke. Of mud and ash. And looks exhausted. "You collided with a renegade. Fell down a ravine. Me and D'ani and Abigail brought you back to the weyr. Ha'ze got cut off. He killed Ustrr. Kainaesyth got burned getting him out. He'll be fine but he's grounded right now. D'ani is leading the weyr."

Th'ero's nose flares as he catches the scent of smoke off of her and even in his state he can see how exhausted she is and the mud and ash that mars her clothes and skin. He listens patiently, brows furrowed as she fills him in on what he's missed since being unconscious. Her hand and caress is a familiar comfort and he welcomes it, shifting under it only when he cautiously tries to move his leg again and confirms that, yes, it is indeed in a cast. "Ha'ze got his revenge then, did he? Hope he's shardin' satisfied now!" Th'ero growls angrily before settling back against the bed. "D'ani is Leading? Is he okay? Abigail? My leg…" Is broken. He's never had a broken bone and he's already Not Liking It. Not ONE bit!

Kimmila nods. "He did," she says quietly. "D'ani is fine. Abigail is fine. Everything is fine." Relatively speaking. The fire still burns, there are homeless cotholders, people are exhausted, minor injuries… Fine. "Your leg is broken, wingmate," she says with a sympathetic look down towards it.

Not fine. Th'ero is already wanting to be out of the bed and back into the thick of things but knows better than to try — his first attempt failed and he's too exhausted to make another attempt quite yet. "The cotholders? What… of the other renegades?" he asks. He HAS to know everything! It won't make him feel any better but it'll keep him from wanting to find out! "Damn it," he mutters. "Damn it, all! Why didn't Ha'ze just let them burn?" he snarls, some of his temper surfacing and finding a source in which to vent.

Kimmila shakes his head. "I don't know, wingmate. You'll have to ask him later. And they're in the brig. Captain Breshir has begun interrogating them, I think. Some of them I'd imagine would be thrilled to talk, having been rescued by the weyr from certain death. Plus with Ustrr dead…" They'd better start making allies with the weyr. She looks at him worriedly. "Th'ero, you have to listen to the Healers," she says, quiet but firm. "Your leg is a clean break but if it doesn't set right you could be lame the rest of your life…"

Th'ero snorts and that shows his opinion right there of what he thinks of those captured renegades and any possible alliances. He wants nothing to do with them and certainly does not want them within the Weyr any longer than necessary. Rayathess can plead for Lyreh if he wants to but the Weyrleader wants to wash his hands of them ALL and the sooner the better! As for following the Healer's orders? His eyes glance to Kimmila and it's clear that he wants to rebel, his lower jaw working as he struggles to absorb it all. Lame for life? "I should be leading the Weyr!" he growls.

Kimmila frowns, her eyes flashing with a sudden stubborn anger. "And you will when the Healers say you can!" she snaps.

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here and rot from idleness and boredom while the Weyr over comes this?" Th'ero snaps back at her, feeding from her anger and likely would have gone farther if it wasn't for Velokraeth's intervention. The bronze's crooning can be heard even from outside in the bowl and then a whuffle. Shut up already! Grinding his teeth, Th'ero broods for a heart beat more and then sighs heavily. "Wingmate. Kimm… I'm sorry." He's being a jerk and he knows it.

Kimmila's eyes are blazing now as she growls, "Yes, if it means your health then hell yes!" She's ready for a fight, just give her a reason. When he backs down though she sags, staring at him for a moment. She blinks reddened eyes and then leans forward, putting her forehead against his side, and starts to cry.

She may have got that fight too if Th'ero's head wasn't hurting him and he didn't feel like complete crap. Now he feels even worse because now she's crying and he is pretty damn sure that he's half to blame for that (or all to blame). "Kimmila," he sighs and lifts a hand up to try and stroke his fingers over her hair. "Don't cry." Please? He hates it when she cries and hates it even more when he's helpless to do anything about it. Talk about frustrating when you can't hug your own weyrmate! "Come here," he murmurs and shifts as best he can on the cot and very carefully too, patting the narrow space beside him.

Kimmila doesn't hesitate as she crawls up onto the cot beside him, wedging her body sideways so her head can tuck against his shoulder. She sniffles softly, shaking her head and trying to stop, but she's just so /tired/.

Th'ero will drape his arm around her as she wedges her body sideways against his, holding her as close as he can and not make it uncomfortable for either of them. "It's alright, love." he whispers softly, lips brushing her forehead in a tender kiss as his hand begins to slowly stroke her back. "It's alright." She's tired and he knows that this couldn't have been easy on her either and that she needs to vent, to let go for a moment.

Kimmila can't hold it back anymore. So she lets it go and cries quietly against his shoulder for a minute or so until she's done and she can look up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispers, sniffling. "I'm just so glad you're okay…"

Th'ero will hold her and stroke her back while she cries it out, not saying a word and knowing now that this is just part of what helps her cope. He knows full well too that this couldn't have been easy on her and that going in to fight that fire and rescue those cotholders was enough stress. Toss Ustrr into the mix and him, once again, charging into danger? It's a wonder she's not just fed up already! "Don't be," he murmurs softly and kisses her hair before resting his cheek against it. It's about as close as he can come to a hug right now. "Stubborn as always, love but I'll be fine. Just… I don't like the idea of being idle. I've never broken a bone in my life. It's… hard to think that my mobility is limited now."

Kimmila isn't going to walk away. She isn't going to say 'I can't do this anymore'. It just makes her cling all the more tightly to him, physically and emotionally. "I know you don't, but…it could have been worse. You'll be able to sit at a desk, able to move around a little with crutches, when the Healers say…it's not like you broke your neck, or your back, or your writing hand…"

Th'ero won't mind that in the least bit and she may find that during his recovery he's just as clingy though it'll come in waves, much like his mood will be up and down and often brooding. He's alright now but after days of being off his usual routine and limited to what he can do? Oh, he's going to be one cranky Weyrleader. He winces when she begins to list off other injuries and he pulls her close in another half-hug. "Let's not think about that," he whispers. Please? He starts to stroke his hand along her back again, tracing along her spine. "Are you alright, Wingmate?"

Kimmila sighs. "I'm tired," she whispers. "Just…exhausted. I'm filthy too. But I have no injuries. I'm fine in that respect. I'm just glad you're okay…you're awake, you're going to be fine…"

No physical injuries but Th'ero knows better than to think she's completely fine. "You know that it'll take more than this to take me down, Kimmila." he murmurs. He's cheated death out of far worse before! A broken leg? Pfft. More of an annoyance now. Lifting his hand, he pushes back a few strands of her hair and then gently cups her cheek, trying to get her to look up at him. "You need to take care of yourself too, love. Go and bathe and eat and then sleep. I'll be here." And he'll be alright.

Kimmila looks up at him, meeting his gaze, and her expression is a mixture of relief and guilt. "Are you sure? I couldn't leave until you'd woken up…"

Th'ero looks just as exhausted as she may feel but his smile is genuine and reassuring and his thumb brushes against her cheekbone. "I'm sure. Where am I going to go or what am I going to do? I can barely sit up and really… I don't have the energy right now to rebel against the Healers. Unelss they try to give me more fellis." He gives her a look then. Yes, he can taste it in his mouth and he knows full well that's why he was sick.

Kimmila sighs. "I'm sorry, wingmate, but it was necessary. Your leg…"

"I know, love. I know." Th'ero murmurs and kisses her forehead again and then nuzzles her gently. With one last hug of her against his body, he will gently pat her back and begin to draw back his arm. "Go on. Go and enjoy a good bath, a feast and some sleep. You deserve it. I'll be good, okay?" Promise. He wasn't joking when he asked her what'd he could do.

Kimmila gives him one more look and then kisses his lips softly. "I'll be back," she promises, sliding wearily off the bed, and wobbling a bit when she stands. She'll need a firelizard to watch and make sure she doesn't fall asleep in the bath…

Th'ero returns her kiss and then smiles softly, "I know you will be." he tells her and then rests his head back against the pillows as he tries to get comfortable. He'll try not to brood either or nurse any guilt — he saw how she wobbled! As for a firelizard, when Th'ero begins to feel sleep tugging at him again, he will whisper softly. "Electricus." before he eyes close. So she'll have the company of his firelizard at least and her favourite, even if he's as ugly as tunnel snake and has a fond desire to burrow into her hair.

Kimmila will be happy to have Electricus with her, a little link between herself and Th'ero even as she bathes, relaxes, soaks, scrubs, and then sleeps.