Fort Weyr - Central Infirmary

Special care has been taken for the newest addition to the Weyr, the babe placed in a special unit and kept mostly in seclusion. There are moments, very few of them, where Dtirae is given the opportunity to touch her son. She is still recovering, and even she can hardly venture from her bed. She did, at least, manage to write a letter to her friend on her status. Though, details were scarce, the best of the news is portrayed — though gossip would quickly dispel the positives she wrote on the page. She is, without much else to do, sitting up in her bed in the infirmary, the curtain around her closed to give her privacy aside from those whom have clearance. Her gaze, however, remains fixated on the curtain that is closed around where her son is. Grey eyes are tired, the woman looks small, fragile, and sunken in. She looks unlike the huntress.

News travels fast in a Weyr and triply so if one is a dragonrider and could hear Zuvaleyuth’s calls. Velokraeth has been out on his ledge, likely conversing with the gold when able. It stands to reason then that the Weyrleader will be by to visit, though Th’ero will give Dtirae a chance to recover first — or at least somewhat recover from her ordeal and when the Healers agree to his visiting. He’s warned to keep it brief and not to upset the goldrider (which earns that Journeyman a rather cold look that has the man hastily looking for work in another part of the room). So it’s his footsteps that break the silence around Dtirae’s nook in the Infimary and a quiet spoken, “Dtirae?” to alert her to his presence. He won’t cross that curtain until she welcomes him in, ever respectful even now.

Zuvaleyuth does appreciate the conversation, it keeps her grounded in her rider's distress. The whole ordeal has been rough on both sides of the pairing, but Fort's healers are good at what they do. The footsteps that break the silence of her area has her finally breaking her gaze away from the spot where her son is. Th'ero's call has her tensing for a slight moment before she sags down. She wears no masks, she is tired and more than a little upset (the warming not to upset her is moot). "Come in." There is no reason to turn the man away, a sort of brother-figure that he is to her. Grey eyes close for a moment as she breathes in deep.

Velokraeth prides himself in knowing the inner workings of the Weyr, of keeping his talons on the pulse as it were. It sounds selfish (and it sort of is) but he does care for all those within the walls. He’s been a bronze in Leadership for many Turns now, his rider Weyrleader for over a decade. It goes to one’s head! When it comes to Zuvaleyuth and her rider though, there is a little more there. They’ve history too, even if Velokraeth can’t remember a good chunk of it (that’s where Th’ero comes in!). Inside the Infirmary, Th’ero will wait until Dtirae calls and then and only then will he push the curtain aside just enough to permit him entrance. Once inside, he’ll slide it closed and take the few steps needed to bring himself to stand by her bedside. His eyes take in the tired look of her and his brows knit in a faint frown. Maybe he doesn’t like what he sees? “How’re you feeling?” he asks in a strangely quiet voice.

When Th'ero steps through the curtains, Dtirae manages to open her eyes and consider the Weyrleader. She doesn't hide from him, gesturing to the chair beside her bed with a weak motion. As for how she's feeling, she looks past him, to that curtained area again. "Truthfully? Like.., Death. They didn't think he'd make it… Wanted to make sure I would." Grey eyes remain fixated in that single point. "I only got to hold him once. He doesn't cry." Then, she looks away and manages a weak smile. " The lie is that I'm doing well and things are okay. I'm just tired,"

Th’ero appreciates that Dtirae doesn’t sugar coat the situation. Not that she’d have gone far if she’d try. It’s obvious things aren’t quite right and the Weyrleader isn’t as oblivious to these things as he may let on. His smile is vague, more a crooked grimace than anything as he settles himself on the chair next to her bed and sighs, “I’m sorry.” For what? “Tired is expected. You’re not expected to just… bounce back. You’ll recover.” In THAT he’s confident. As for her son? “He doesn’t cry?”

It is certainly obvious that the situation is not as light as the lie, so she doesn't even attempt it with the Weyrleader. A certain Harper might be in for a shock, though. Dtirae says nothing for his apologies, her gaze following the man rather than going back across the space. "I know. It was rough on us both. There were a lot of complications." The whole pregnancy has been complications, really. "He's too weak. He might not make it…" She spares a glance that way. "He'll be in the infirmary for another month. If he makes it. If I'm lucky, he'll grow normally. If I'm lucky that he makes it that far." It's likely the healers gave a more optimistic report, until she badgered for facts. "I worried about being a bad mother. I've already given him awful start."

A certain Harper will be in for a shock for certain! Th’ero however is focused on one thing alone in this room and currently that appears to be Dtirae and her current state. Really, it’s strange that the Weyrleader is checking in, but over the Turns he has become more of a brother-figure to her — if not to most of the goldriders and immediate staff. “Complications? How early on…?” he asks with another knitted frown drawing his brows. Did she tell them any of this? Th’ero can’t even remember the last time he checked in on Dtirae during her pregnancy and curses himself silently. Again! Back to his old habits. Skirting certain issues, always too focused on business and being too reserved not to cross those lines. “Hold some hope for him, Dtirae. Fort’s Healers are some of the best and Healer Hall is only a few candlemarks by runner and no trouble by dragonback. If he needs the skills of a Master or the Masterhealer, he’ll have them.” It’s not quite a promise, as Th’ero does not have that power and does not presume to have it, but he feels he has to say something to her though it’s becoming far more awkward for him to say anything that isn’t the usual canned response. “Dtirae,” his voice is gentle but there is a firmness underlying it and the way he looks at her then. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have predicted this. Not every woman’s pregnancy goes as it should.”

If it's strange the Weyrleader is checking in, Dtirae doesn't mind. "Quite early on. I did everything the healers said to." She would have shared the healers orders of her needing to rest more as well as any other special needs, but details of their concerns left quiet, no need to cause concern if she did as needed. Her fingers twist the blankets over her as she ducks her head down. It's Th'ero's assertion of getting a Master Healer that has her looking at him with surprise, staring at the Weyrleader before she gives him a tear-filled smile. "Thank you." Her gaze drifts back, again, and focuses there. "I could… No. I know they don't always go as planned. It… Could be worse." She glances at Th'ero, quiet. "If… You want to see him, you can. He's… In a thing. He's also tiny… Doesn't look healthy… You won't be able to touch him. They said he'll get sick easily." But, the offer is there. There are more tears and these ones fall. "I love him, Th'ero. I don't…"

Th’ero won’t pry into what Dtirae did and didn’t do. He’ll leave that for Nyalle or Inri or Thys or any woman who comes to pay a visit to her while she recovers. There are things he doesn’t wish to know about a woman. Her offer does surprise him a little, evident in the way his brows lift before settling back into a light frown. “Perhaps I will,” he says softly in thanks but doesn’t immediately rise from his seat. Her tears, expected and yet troubling, have him reaching out to place a hesitant hand against her arm. “He’s your son. Of course you love him and want him to thrive. If he’s managed this long… maybe there is hope for him yet.” The best he can offer for comfort as beyond that the Weyrleader isn’t sure of what more he can say.

Not prying is a good thing, really. She doesn't want to share those details. The surprise from her offer does get a slight upturn of her lips despite the tears. His agreement to see him is met with a nod it she does not push him to go see. She continues to cry, the hand on her arm is accepted with a silent thanks for the comfort. "I… Yes. He's made it this far. He's stubborn, like me." She sniffles a bit, smiling at the words of comfort a little more widely than before. Her hand settles on his and squeezes once in thanks before dropping back to her side. "I didn't think I'd ever have a kid…"

Th’ero’s hand will linger just a little longer after she’s squeezed it in thanks and then with a parting pat with his own hand he’ll let it fall back to his lap. His mouth curves up in the barest of smiles for her remark. “If he’s already half as stubborn as you are, then I’d say his chances are high of surviving.” he tells her and he sounds sincere in his words. He’s not just saying it to get her hopes up! “Never say never? I thought the same once. Now I have three.” Only because Kimmila ended with with twins. “I’m surprised I haven’t fathered an entire army, given how Velokraeth chases but… You have a son now. Maybe others in the future. You’re young yet, Dtirae.” he points out and then slowly stands. “I can’t stay for long.” No surprise there? “I wanted to see how you were.” And now that he has an idea… “Rest and be well, Dtirae.”

Dtirae is thankful for the comfort he offers, truly, unspoken but it is there. At his smile, there's a faint hint of a grin before it fades again. "I think he definitely is more than half." She is thankful for these words as well, the sincerity they hold are a comfort. "I suppose not. I believe it's irony, seeing as I told S'ai that I wasn't going to consider having one that wasn't with someone I felt for romantically. Or something like that." And yet, here she is. "I'm thankful you don't have an army. Imagine how hard they'd be to track." And she'd be the mother of at least one of them! "We'll see." As he rises, she leans her head back and closes her eyes. Exhaustion sets in, but she's stubborn and fights it to give the Weyrleader a parting look, "busy as always. Thank you." For coming. For the reassurance. For everything. But, she loses out on this fight and finally allows herself a bit of light rest, listening intently for her son.

“I don’t think irony has anything to do with it,” Th’ero admits with a crooked smirk but he won’t argue with Dtirae. Seeing that exhaustion is settling in and she’s losing the battle to hold it at bay, the Weyrleader will not linger. “My work is never done,” he murmurs with a grimace and nods his head, “Be well.” he says again and then waits until she’s resting before quietly taking his leave, slipping out between the curtains and letting the Healer on duty know that he has finished with his visit and that the goldrider is resting peacefully.