Fort Weyr - Dragon Infirmary
This huge cavern of smooth stone arches upwards to a rounded ceiling, high enough for even the largest of Golds to fit comfortably. Along the walls of the cavern are many carved out and worn smooth couches for injured dragons to rest on, most with a cot alongside for the dragon's rider to sleep.
Tables line the other walls, movable so they can be taken to the dragon instead of making the dragon come to it. Bolts of cloth, thread, needles and cabinet after cabinet of remedies and equipment take up the rest of the space. Two huge double doors lead out to the Center Bowl.


Kainaesyth plays in the land half way between awake and asleep, the very very tip of his tail moving gently from side to side, while the rest of the bronze curls slightly hunched over off to one edge of the dragon infirmary. Ha'ze wanders the rest of the area, not quite able to contain pacing as thoughts curl through his own head. Watch long enough and a pattern will emerge in the pacing, as the young bronzerider moves around Kainaesyth, never too far away. There's no obvious communication between the two, just a sense of PRESENCE between them, an awareness of the other (even if Kainaesyth's is more sleepy-aware). It's quiet here, other than the tapping of Ha'ze's boots against the ground.

Ezra is at the weyr for business, but having heard the tale of the blaze and Ha'ze's killing of Ustrr, the young cotholder makes his way to the infirmary with an unopened skin of wine in hand. Pausing in the entrance, he looks around and then steps forward. "Ha'ze," he greets quietly, with a nod of his head as his eyes travel over Kainaesyth's form.

Ha'ze's pacing doesn't pause and doesn't change an ounce when Ezra speaks his name. His circle is almost complete, and he finishes it, ending right next to Kainaesyth's head before he looks up. The dead look that has lingered in his eyes the last few days has faded a bit, but there's still quite a bit of life that is missing from Ha'ze's dark eyes. "Cotholder." The use of the title creates distance.

Ezra dips his head slightly, making a mental note to use 'bronzerider' next time. He approaches, holding out the wine skin. "A token of Stonehaven's appreciation for ridding Fort of Ustrr," he says quietly. It's not much, but Stonehaven still grows.

Ha'ze measures the hand holding out the winecasket to him, his eyes traveling upwards from it to settle onto Ezra's face. For long seconds he doesn't take it, and he doesn't say anything. "I did what needed to be gettin' done." It has the air of a man trying to convince himself of that particular fact.

Ezra nods, still holding it out. "You did. And we're grateful."

Finally, Ha'ze reaches out and takes the wine. A jerk of his head invites Ezra toward the cot that hides in the slight privacy behind Kainaesyth's hunched form. "Bring cups?" The 'and something to open this with?' is left unspoken.

Ezra's brows lift. "No." And it's a skin, not too hard to open, just break the wax. "How's Kainaesyth?" he asks, the name spoken carefully, as if Ezra had practiced it many times to make sure he was saying it right. It doesn't roll naturally off his tongue.

"Heh." Ha'ze points at the cot, a silent invitation for Ezra to sit down, and then is just going to abandon the holder for a few moments. The healers have a tray they leave cups and water at, and Ha'ze is just going to go purloin a few. Only on his way back does he answer. "He's hurtin', now that they ain't numbin' everythin'. But it's winter, so it means he can be sleepin' and thinkin' as much as he's wantin'."

Ezra moves forward to sit slowly on the cot, surprised he was invited at all. "Sorry to hear that," he says, looking back at the bronze. "He's…really a good looking dragon." There's a pause. "Winter?"

Kainaesyth's tail twitches once. He may not be the vainest of dragons, but still, it's nice to be told he looks good. "Healers don't think it'll scar much. Just surface burns. More the mass of them arekeepin' him down, not how bad they are." Ha'ze holds out the cups for Ezra to take, then he reaches for the skin.

Ezra reaches out for the cup, looking back to the bronze to see if he can get a better look at the burns without staring too much. "Good it won't scar much." He pauses, wondering if Ha'ze avoided the question on purpose, but he's curious enough to try agian. "What's winter got to do with it?"

With Ezra holding the cups Ha'ze pours the wine, enough for them both to drink for, well, more than a few seconds. That done he pops the cork back in, takes a cup from the holder, and sits down. "Kainaesyth gets real tired in the winter. Introdspective. Spends a lot of time thinkin'. Flyin' with Thunderbird we ain't got much choice but to be movin," which honestly, is Ha'ze's preference, "but hurt…" a bit of a shrug, "leaves plenty of time for sleepin' and thinkin'."

Ezra ahhs, studying the dragon again. "Interesting. That happen to a lot of dragons?" Even after spending a few turns in the weyr, there's still plenty he doesn't know.

Ha'ze shrugs and lifts the wine to his lips. "Every one of them is different. Kai's.. a bit more winter sleepy than most." And Spring crazy. No wonder he likes bunnies so much…

Ezra sips the wine too, and is pleased it's a good skin. "Interesting." Then he lapses into silence. What is there to talk about? Doot doot doot.

Ha'ze's eyes drift away, settling back on Kainaesyth. The question is, how long, even with wine in hand, can Ha'ze manage to stay sitting? Winter may be quiet sleep time for Kainaesyth, but for Ha'ze it's months of inaction. The answer, by the way, is not long. Which is why Ha'ze rises again, but doesn't restart his pacing again.

Ezra sips his wine and wonders why Ha'ze gave him so much. Doot doot doot. "So what do you do during the winter if he's resting?"

Ha'ze shrugs his shoulder, and takes a deep drink of his wine. He's… not really savoring it. "We were weyrlin's last time." In other words, Ha'ze isn't totally sure. "Nothin' that requires me to be liftin' my arm above my hair." His shirt covers the bandages and stitches over where Ustrr's knife sunk deep into his shoulder.

Ezra tilts his head at the bronzerider. "Why not?"

(because Ha'ze's player couldn't resist) Ha'ze shifts his glass from good hand to bad, and reaches downward to pull off the loose shirt he wears. The bandages still hide the extent of the damage, but it's clear enough that Ha'ze's shoulder is more or less in the do-not-use area.

Ezra winces at the sight of it. "What happened?" he asks, his eyes suddenly shifting to Ha'ze's face, and intense.

"Ustrr's… was, bigger than I. Got me on the ground and was movin' to be finishin' it." take a moment to think about all the sadness of a Kai-less world that would have caused, "Couldn't get all the way out of the way. Got him in the gut, he got me." Oh, look, Wine@

Ustrr's what was bigger? Ahem. Ezra doesn't think that (though his player totally did). The cotholder nods slowly. "Glad you made it," he says quietly. "And I hope to Faranth this is the last crazy guy that Fort sees." Please, let it be the last.

"Aye well." It's the most noncommittal of sounds, and Ha'ze flicks his removed shirt onto the cot, not bothering to do the effort it takes to put the garment back on. "I don't think any one got away from the riders this time."

Ezra looks at the tunic and then back to Ha'ze. "You want help with that?" he offers. He, sadly, has experience with tending the wounded. "Good," he says then, with a sudden vehemence. "You know if Lyreh is in the brig?" He hasn't gone to look.

"What?" It doesn't even occur to him that Ezra is offering to help him get dressed. Weird. Instead his mind skips right ahead and his expression darkens. "I don't give a s*it if she is."

"You want help with your shirt," Ezra clarifies. Then he pauses, and then nods slightly. He won't press the topic. /He/ needs to know, if only so he can tell his brother. And his wife. Maybe not in that order.

The look that Ha'ze gives to Ezra has layers of 'you have got to be kidding me' pressed all together and spilling over. "No. The weyrleader would know. Or that bluerider of his. Kimmila."

It takes Ezra a moment to realize Ha'ze switched topics in mid-stream. Because why would Th'ero know about Ezra helping Ha'ze put on his tunic? (And why would he care?) "I can go look."

Keep up Ezra. Ha'ze isn't moving that fast just yet. (Unless you're Jajen or Abigail.) Ha'ze pivots and takes a step towards Kai, stops, turns back. "Abigail is pregnant." Why is he saying this?

Ezra doesn't know weyr gossip and who is with who, so he just looks at Ha'ze blankly. "Is this a good thing?"

Blithely, as if Ezra hadn't said anything, "It's mine." Maybe he's just testing the words out? A slight frown crosses on Ha'ze's lips, as his eyes settle just beyond Ezra.

Ezra lets himself smile slowly. "Congratulations. Here's to a happy, healthy pregnancy and child," and he lifts his wine glass for a toast. "I hope Laurali gets pregnant soon."

"Baby trees." Ha'ze is still more or less talking to himself, the frown curling deeper. He's not thinking about how his own arm raises in a toast before he pivots on his heel again. This time he's walking towards the doorway, purposefully. Um, without saying goodbye.

Baby trees? Uh, Ha'ze…do you know where babies come from? Because they don't grow on trees. Watching Ha'ze walk towards the exit, Ezra blinks and then gets to his feet, murmuring softly to Kainaesyth, "Stay with him, Kainaesyth. He needs you…" Obviously.

At some point during this conversation Kainaesyth has fallen completely asleep, but his tail twitches slightly, almost as if he has heard Ezra's words and is saying something along the lines of 'will do'. Ha'ze though, with that wine glass in hand, is out the door and heading towards the snow covered forest.

Should Ezra follow? He's…really not sure. Is Ha'ze safe on his own? Especially in this weather, and shirtless? Well, the least Ezra can do is take him his tunic, so he grabs it and hastens after the bronzerider.

Maybe the cold breaks through whatever preoccupation has seized upon Ha'ze, but he doesn't stop even when the chill of winter hits his bare skin. At least he's wearing boots? It's that early winter, where snow melts quickly without freezing, and everything is slightly slushy. Ha'ze's footsteps are purposeful, right to the edge of the forest. He stops at the side and looks inwards, just… stopping for a moment.

Ezra catches up with him there, holding out his tunic. "Bronzerider?" Ezra asks slowly. "What is it?"

"You see any trees little enough to be dug up and moved?" Because the ground isn't frozen is it? (It totally is.) Ha'ze glances sideways and catches sight of that tunic. Oops. Mutely, Ha'ze takes it, but doesn't put it on just yet.

Ezra blinks a little bit. "Your bronze wants baby trees?" He does look around though. "Going to be hard to dig anything up in this ground. Might have better luck near a stream." Water hasn't frozen yet.

"You asked what I do when Kainaesyth sleeps." Ha'ze says this slowly, his eyes sweeping outwards across the edge of the forest. "I find him things to be stayin' awake for."

Ezra ohs, looking around again. "We don't even have shovels…"

"Details." They're unimportant. Ha'ze turns away from the forest, and shoves his cup at Ezra. "I'm going to get some." And once again he's just going to… walk away. Because that's what he's doing today apparently.

Ezra takes Ha'ze's cup, and if it's not empty Ezra will drain it. "I'll just wait here then."