Fort Weyr - Center Bowl
The wide center of the bowl is often bustling with activity as riders come and go. Off westward can be seen the entrances for the candidate barracks and the guest weyr, while to the east is a large opening that leads into the dragon infirmary. The bowl stretches off both to the north and to the south, where the sheer stone walls rise steeply to the sky.

A hot, dry late summer afternoon is now drawing much later and on to the evening hours. The sun is gradually dipping lower, though the air remains still and no breeze stirs. Since the alarm was called and the Weyr mobilized, the Wings taking flight and disappearing there has been a tense silence. Left under the care of the Weyrsecond and the remaining Wingriders of Roc and Simurgh and the weyrfolk, none were idle here as they were set to task in preparing the cells, organizing supplies — medicinal ones as well — and of course a lot of food and drink for when all return.

And return they do, in what starts as a slow trickle. Those able are brought back by Between, Wingriders, Guards and prisoners alike to be met by the returning Weyrwomen and Weyrsecond as affairs are quickly arranged… well, as quickly as they can be in such short notice. The center bowl is more or less shut down to most traffic, save for those incoming or going. There is still much to be done, even if the fighting is over. The largest part of the bowl has been cordonned off to deal with the wounded, though there seem to be very few as some have to travel by straight flight or over land. Most of the prisoners brought in are quickly processed and then passed to the Guards to be taken to the cells off the southern bowl. The refugees of Gold Hill remain in Peyton Hold and Fort Hold's care.

Velokraeth is one of those dragons stuck to straight flight, though truthfully the pale bronze's rider should be resting and not travelling. But the Weyrleader is stubborn and he waited long enough for his tastes before finally stating he /would/ be going back to Fort Weyr — injured leg or not. He will be among some of the last to return, however, regardless of his haste to be back in the thick of things.

Kimmila will be, predictably, flying in with the Weyrleader, Varmiroth's wings drooping in tiredness as they finally land in a clear section of the bowl. Unbuckling and sliding down, Kimmila is quick to hasten to Velokraeth's side. Either she's going to help Th'ero down, or pretend to, but she's there if he needs her to be just the same. Eyes scan the bowl, taking note of arrivals and who has come out to help, as well.

Being evacuated a short time before the Weyrleader and Kimmila had left Gold Hill, privates Iarohana and Yurolt are already being treated by the weyr healers. Yurolt is still unconscious from loss of blood, but private Iarohana is lucid and speaking with 2nd Lt. Aendar. The lieutenant is in charge of the Weyr guard until Captain Breshir returns and is taking the private's report. Though Iarohana still looks rather pained, her head bandage has been replaced and she is slowly giving in to fellis even as she speaks.

Abigail and Niumdreoth is one of the riders that doesn't have injured people to take back to Fort Weyr so they are able to go between. Once back at the weyr and with the few that was given a flight back are off and settled she is off an about helping wherever she possible can. Which at the moment she is offhelping with the injured refugees, guards and then like when they are brought in. Seems one of the healers remember her from when she was at the Healers Hall and knows she can bandage rather well. At the moment that is just what she is doing with one of the first injured people to be brought in young girl that has a rather bloodied arm. The two are even talking to try and get the girls attention off the injury.

Kouzevelth flew straight, despite not actually having a passenger of her own. It was solidarity for Velokraeth and Varmiroth as well as the others who couldn't between, perhaps, or just a love for flying itself. She lands in one of the few spaces left large enough to take her, allowing Inri a swift dismount. A swift, exhausted dismount — the goldrider definitely looks shaken and worse for wear over that entire experience. Emotional whiplash, perhaps? Or just seeing a lot more gore than she's ever seen in her life? Inri's decidedly not a fighter.

Velokraeth's posture and even the way he holds his wings speaks of the bronze's exhaustion, but he still finds the strength to swivel his oversized head towards Varmiroth, though his mind extends to reach to many dragons and just not the blue. « Shall we hunt ourselves some dinner? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm a might bit peckish. » Hunger before sleep, it seems! Th'ero unbuckles himself and then begins to awkwardly move from his straps, clearly in discomfort and though he makes no outward reach for Kimmila, by the end the bluerider's help will be needed. Not that he makes it obvious — he'll try to "hide" the action as if handing her something. A dangling strap, his sword, anything… not that many would be paying attention. He will wave off the Healers who approach (word has likely been spread) not with his hand but a narrowed look. Gripping Kimmila's arm firmly, Th'ero remains stiff and tense, lips drawn into a grimace before he takes a slow, steadying breath. "Need to get the reports," he mutters to her, eyes already scanning the crowds. "I see the Weyrwomen wasted no time in organizing things."

Kimmila holds on tightly to the Weyrleader's elbow, giving him a look that looks scowling to most, but hides concern within. "You can sit and receive the reports," she says firmly, pointing towards the healer area. Not because it's the healer area but because there's chairs over there. And she gives his arm a gentle tug. C'mon. "I want to check on Yurolt," she adds with a furrowed brow. Catching sight of Abigail, she nods to the brownrider, but doesn't call out so as not to distract her from her work.

Lt. Aendar sees the Weyrleader land and dismount. He gives Iarohana a quick salute and says, "Get some rest private. I'm sure the Captain will want report when he gets back." With that he leaves the wounded and makes for Th'ero. Another quick salute, and his report, "Sir, the Weyr is in order. Healers are standing by.."He gives a glance to Th'ero's leg. "Should I call one over?"

"Sir," Kazulen interrupts, weaving a little as he hustles over — he's been annoying the Weyrleader, or alternatively protecting him, all evening; what's one more? — "permission to stand in for the lieutenant if you need to bite someone's head off to protect your stoicism!"

Abigail is just putting the finishing touches on the bandage she is working on when she catches sight of Yurolt some cots over. "Shards." She didn't hear that he had gotten hurt it seems. A glance is offered back to the girl whom she is helping and she points her over to a healer to get any other further information from. The nod is caught from Kimmila, one is offered back before she is off to check on Yurolt as well it seems.

Th'ero already begins to protest when she points to the Healer area. Chairs or no chairs, the Weyrleader remains stubborn in being tended to… though Kimmila remains the only one (aside from Velokraeth) who can bend the bronzerider eventually to reason. "Then let us check on Yurolt," he murmurs, giving her a look. That's right. Us. He's not going to sit. Which means either someone needs to fetch him something to support his weight or the poor bluerider is going to be holding him up for some time. Th'ero's relief at Lt. Aendar's approach is brief and his offer is waved off with a dismissive gesture of his free hand. "No need. I'll be fine." he says in a curt tone. Then another voice is cutting in and the Weyrleader has to fight from showing too much of his apprehension. Oh no… "Permission not granted, as it's not needed." he tells Kazulen firmly, his tone betraying just a hint of annoyance. How'd he gain the young Guard as a shadow?

Kimmila is doing well (so far) at holding Th'ero up. But who knows how long that'll last. She's tired too! At Kazulen's words, she turns to give him a somewhat blank and baffled look. "Have you seen the Healers yet?" she finally asks.

"A few times," Kazulen answers meekly, pleased to have avoided further shouting. Shouting bad. Concussion not friendly! He points at his head, and the bandage that's totally ruining his hairstyle. "Stitched up and everything. I may even survive until an early grave." He pauses. There was something sharp and pointed he needed to ask Kimmila. What was it, again…

Noting the reaction his young guard is getting, Lt. Aendar attempts to ease the mood. Giving Kazulen a firm look, and a thumb towards the healers he says, "I'll need your report as soon are you're up for it, guardsman." Also taking note of the wounded private's name being mentioned, Aendar waves vaguely in the invalid's direction. "The healers say he's not to be disturbed…" He lets that fall, knowing if the Weyrleader wants to disturb the lad, he will. "PFC Iarohana is more than willing to speak though, sir." The lieutenant shall leave it at that. The dragonriders can make their own choices on how they want to speak with the wounded. He eyes Kazulen expectantly.

Abigail is topped like the others as she wanted to check on Yurolt at the talk that he isn't to be disturbed. She frowns slightly and a faint huff escapes her proving she doesn't seem to like that idea. A curious glance is sent to Kazulen now. "Ye sure yer alright?" The bandage is indeed ruining his hairstyle but she won't let that bit sneak out. As for Th'ero she gives him a salute, though does she ask how he is? Not at the moment, she gets the feeling that with all the healers around poking and asking him that he may be asked that a bit to much at the moment.

Inri has meandered over to where the rest of the group around the Weyrleader is, though she's stepping up toward Kimmila and offering, "Should I go get you seats?" As far as Inri is concerned, well, Kimmila did have a baby fairly recently. Early. And so she shouldn't be overtaxed, even with just being Th'ero's human cane. "And something to drink. Water." No booze for the Weyrleader and his weyrmate just yet — not until the healers approve it, and then Inri has drinks to make everyone.

Abigail's intuition proves correct, so Th'ero meets her salute with a respectful nod and inward relief that he isn't about to be questioned by the brown weyrling as well. The Weyrleader glances past Lt. Aendar in order to catch a glimpse of Yurolt, then Iarohana and for a moment it seems as though to bronzerider will just push on through. Instead, he simply shifts his weight, trying not to grimace in discomfort as he does so. "No, let them rest. What have you for reports so far though?" If he can't question the to privates, why not the lieutenant?

Kimmila looks back at Kazulen, and it takes her a moment…"Oh, your sword is in Varmiroth's straps." But since she can't just drop the Weyrleader, she nods her head back to where the blue rests. Stalled, for the moment, in going for that hunt Velokraeth so wisely suggested. "You can go get it. He's nice." That's comforting. Frowning, she peers towards Yurolt again. "I hope he's okay," she murmurs. Then eyes latch onto Abigail and Inri, and she looks relieved. "Both, please. I'm exhausted." She'll guilt Th'ero into sitting, so she doesn't have to hold him up.

It would appear that Lt. Aendar will have to wait for Kazulen's report, seeing as the Weyrleader needs his own. The lieutenant turns smartly to face Th'ero and opens his mouth to speak. At that same instant a shout is heard from the line of wounded behind him. "Oannis! Sarn't!" A shuffling sound as healers rush to subdue the wounded private. He manages to shove a few away from him before he adjusts to his surroundings, realizing he's not at Gold Hill any longer. The young guard glances around trying to recognize any faces around him.

On her cue, Inri disappears — or, rather, steps away in order to provide hydration and seats for the people involved in questioning. Sure, it might make her miss part of the questioning, which is quite the disappointment, but hopefully she'll get caught up on anything actually relevant to her. Which is probably nothing really, but from her perspective, it's everything. Kouzevelth lingers in the bowl, though she expresses enthusiastic agreement with the idea of getting something to eat. « Dinner, and a nap. »

Velokraeth is stalled and for such simple reasons — there's just no where for the bronze to take off properly. So he remains by Varmiroth's side, growing ever more impatient as he waits for an opening. « Soon, I hope. Kouzevelth, dear, do you mind clearing us some space to move? » Th'ero catches Kimmila's comment regarding Yurolt and he murmurs a few low reassurances. Her tactic works — somewhat — when she takes Abigail and Inri up on their offers. But his mind only latches on to the word 'exhausted' and suddenly the Weyrleader's grip is turning more to support her rather than the other way around. "Some water and food would be good." Though if anyone knows Th'ero, he's liable to take none of it himself and give it to Kimmila and the others. Not that his mind will be on food for long, as all the commotion from where the wounded guards lay has the Weyrleader taking an awkward shuffled step forwards.

Kimmila has to step forwards with Th'ero, less one of them fall over. "Yurolt," she says, her voice low but firm. "You're back in Fort. How're you feeling?" Glancing around, she sees Abigail again and nods for the brownrider to join them while Inri goes to get the chairs. Varmiroth begins to wiggle and move, the smaller blue able to side step and shift until he can spring free of the ground, opening up a little bit more space for Velokraeth. Assuming, of course, Kazulen has already fetched the sword.

Well, give or take a few minutes, anyway — Kazulen is not one of the opinion that a rider's permission to fetch something from a dragon's straps means that it's safe or wise to just go grab whatever it is, and has been busily providing polite commentary to the blue in order to make sure he won't be irritated. So far, at least, he hasn't failed to be reassured by Kimmila's comment about Varmiroth's niceness.
Abigail glances over to Inri and nods, about to go an help with her. Though when Yurolt is waking up and struggling the nod is caught from Kimmila. Instead of going for charis she turns to try and help get Yurolt to calm down. "Yurolt, it's alright. Just take a moment and relax." If that is at all possible.

« Not a problem, » croons Kouzevelth, fanning out her wings a bit and inciting the moving-out-of-the-way of quite a few humans afraid of getting smacked. That, combined with her taking a few steps back and getting her own bulk out of the way, should at least clear room for Velokraeth's departure — which in turn will make enough space for her to join them. Inri, meanwhile, has the nice sort of chairs that fold up under one arm, and a water pitcher and some cups in the other. Balancing is part of the skill of working at a tavern, after all. "Okay," she starts, rejoining the group, and then silences for disoriented Yurolt's sake and wordlessly unfolds the chairs and pours water into cups.

For a the slightest of moments Yurolt's eyes fix on a point behind Kimmila and Abigail, and he seems very afraid. Just a quickly the moment is over and he licks his parched lips, trying to focus on anyone's face really. He is pale, very pale. Too pale. Yet that is expected, from the amount of blood he lost. The young guard smiles weakly at Abigail, or is it Kimmila, or..Shards, it could be anyone, his focusing still not quite right. "Water.."

Private Iarohana is fighting hard against the fellis she's been drugged with. Especially now that her friend is awake. Muttering something along the lines of "Brilliant" she finally accepts the peace fellis offers. At the same time Lt. Aendar closes in to be near his guardsman. He suddenly eyes Kazulen, thankful that he's not amongst the seriously wounded.

Velokraeth's impatience will give way to curiosity when Kazulen approaches Varmiroth and with polite commentary to the blue. The pale bronze then chuffs, low and deep in his chest — almost like laughter. « Ahh, many thanks, fair lady! » The bronze rumbles, unfurling his wings now and lurching awkwardly into the sky, the wind from his wingbeats likely kicking up some dust and dirt. Sorry! So sorry. Kimmila won't have to be glued to Th'ero for much longer, as once the chairs arrive, he promptly has it so that she can sit — if she chooses to. He is already starting to take a few tentative steps away on his own. Manageable, once he realizes he can put some weight on his leg. Not much, but enough to keep his balance if he moves carefully enough as the injury is not so bad as it is awkward and the bandaging doesn't help. Stubborn, stubborn man. "Inri," Th'ero calls in a level tone to the gold weyrling, "Water for Yurolt, if you do not mind?" And he gestures with his hand to where the guard is still coming to his senses. Eventually the Weyrleader will approach, though it's slow going.

Kimmila does accept the chair and sit, but when she realizes her tactic has not worked and Th'ero is off on his own once more, the bluerider sighs and gets back to her feet to follow.

Varmiroth projects to Velokraeth . o O ( Your rider is an idiot sometimes, mine says. Often. She corrects me. )

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth seems amused. « She is only discovering this now? Of course he's an idiot and about as stubborn as a burden beast. His pride and sense of honor are his downfall. Yours should know. » There is a pause, where the bronze confers with his rider. « He has poor timing too. »

Varmiroth projects to Velokraeth . o O ( Mine has always known this. She's just irritated with it right now. Poor timing about what? )

"Sure, I'll get ye a cup Yurolt." Abigail offers as she moves over to where Inri is with the drinks. "Thanks for getting it Inri." This offered as she picks up on a cup, which she takes back over to where Yurolt is. "Can ye sit up a bit? If not it's alright, can work out another way."

Velokraeth projects to Varmiroth . o O ( With good reason! Let her knock some sense into him. Serves him right if he will not listen. His timing — Yours mentioned being exhausted, so his focused changed to her. He wants her to sit, to drink and eat and rest. He's concerned, even if he did not show it. *he pauses and the bronze sighs* He will run himself into the ground protecting those he loves and for the good of the Weyr but never will he put himself first. If yours plays the cards right, he will concede. )

Varmiroth projects to Velokraeth . o O ( Mine is constantly trying to play her cards right. It it part of why she cares for him so. He makes her think. )

"Of course." Inri pours a cup, and is going to bring it over but is interceded by Abigail, who gets a grin. "Just lift your head up a little bit," she suggests, "no need to sit all the way if it makes you dizzy. Drink slow." Getting water to incapacitated people is /also/ something she's learned in tavern training, it seems.

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth chuckles, though not entirely from amusement. The bronze seems… distracted. « Yours is very strong and patient to put up with his nonsense. » he compliments.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth , being so close to the bronze for so long, picks up on that distraction, and is on alert. « What is it? »

Yurolt gives another weak, pale grin, as he tries to sit up for a drink. Clearly he doesn't have the strength back yet and collapses back down. "Thank you," he manages to mutter, after being helped with the water. "Did Oannis…Is the sarn't okay?" He would ask about Iarohana as well, only he's seen her next to him as he struggled to drink. Trying to see Th'ero, Yurolt asks anyone who'll answer, "Did we win?"

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth instantly drowns the bond in a mellowing wash of honeyed golds and crystal clear champagnes, a sweet and cooling white wine that soothes the nerves without making one buzzed. « Easy, little brother. I am only giving him a long overdue lashing and it unfortunately takes a bit of my focus. Man has some tough shields when he goes to hide. » But boy, does the bronze sound smug.

Velokraeth senses that Varmiroth backs down, easing away from the tension. « Ahh. I will leave you to it, then. » He does sound pleased, though.

Th'ero will awkwardly half shuffle, half limp — maybe hobble, his way closer to Yurolt, standing well enough away to the side to be in view but not in Inri or Abigail's way as they tend to the Guard (lucky Guard!). The Weyrleader turns his head then, a slight frown settling on his features as Kimmila joins him again and he bends down slightly to whisper something to her. Yurolt's question has him glancing sharply to him again and his expression twists into a grim sort of smirk. "We did. Gold Hill is secure again." he murmurs and then awkwardly dips his head slightly. "You performed your duty well, Private Yurolt. As did all… everyone." Th'ero turns then to give Inri, Abigail, Kimmila and anyone else within range a quick look. Yes, he means everyone! He goes to straighten then, only to wince, lips drawing back into a grimace before he can lower his head and try to hide it. Good thing Kimmila is there, as he's subtly gripping her arm again. Maybe he'll sit now?
Th'ero whispers "Please sit, Wingmate. I will see Yurolt briefly. But you need to rest." to Kimmila.

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth renews the bond with just a sense of pure, amused smugness. Your welcome?

Kimmila stands beside Th'ero, and when he whispers to her she just gives him a bland, if frank, unblinking stare. She's not sitting until he does, clearly. Battle of the stubborn? "You did well, Yurolt," she also pipes up, glancing around and shaking her head. "It's resolved, at any rate. Now something will /have/ to be done." Grimly, her lips are pressed into a thin line and she shakes her head again, cursing the heir and lord of Gold Hill under her breath. But really not that quietly.

Abigail looks a bit amused as she hears Inri. "Had to do this a few times huh?" She questions with a faint amused tone. The cup is held for as long as Yurolt needs her to hold it in place for the drink. "Well, yes." As far as she knows they won, didn't they? A slight glance is sent over to Th'ero as he makes his way over and she steps back to give him room next to Yurolt. A soft smile is seen at the bit on everyone did well. "Thank ye sir." Is said with a soft tone.

For the most part, Inri is quiet, except to answer Abigail's question — still silently, but mouthing 'Drunks.' Of course. Th'ero first gets a smile, as he speaks, and then — a concerned look. "What next?" she asks Kimmila, finally daring to bring voice to the question.

Yurolt starts to say something, but instead erupts into a cough. After sputtering for a bit he takes another drink, and says, "Good…" He doesn't forget that no one has answered him about Sergeant Oannis, and has a worried look on his face now. To his 'nurses' he whispers a thanks and closes his eyes. That worried expression is still there, and his eyes can be seen moving under his lids.

To save what little strength Yurolt has, Lt. Aendar steps up and clears his throat. At this unspoken signal several healers rush forward and start shooing everyone way from the wounded guard. To Th'ero, Aendar says, "Sir, I've private Iarohana's report on where she and private Yurolt were during the…conflict." Battle, campaign? These words could be used, but since the lieutenant wasn't there he's uncertain as to which to use.

Th'ero only stares back at Kimmila, just as stubborn and firm on whatever it was he whispered to the bluerider. He is the first to relent though and perhaps not wholly by his choice. "There is no word yet of what has become of the Lord or the heir son or daughter," he intones in a flat voice, glancing sidelong again to this weyrmate before his eyes sweep over the others gathered as well. "But no doubt Gold Hill will remain under Fort Hold or Peyton Hold's power now." He smirks a bit for Kimmila's less than quiet cursing, but the snort he gives sounds almost amused, until it hitches oddly. Another wince and his grip instinctively tightens on Kimmila, head lowering and turned again to mutter something to the bluerider. Straightening then, when he lifts his head his features are once more collected and settled neutrally and his eyes fix steadily on Lt. Aendar, though not without darting to Yurolt. Concern? Could be. "Written?" Th'ero asks even as he nods his head. Conflict seems apt to describe the situation.
Th'ero whispers "I think I will sit… for now. If it will make /him/ stop, at least." to Kimmila.

Kimmila rolls her eyes at Th'ero and tugs him back to the chairs, so they can both sit. Settling down, the bluerider leans forward, elbows on her knees and hands clasped. "Do we get the pleasure of questioning the prisoners?" she asks, glancing at Th'ero, but then also to the others around. They're all in this together? "And where is the one who claims he is Stonehaven?"

With his wounded guard asleep now, Lt. Aendar shakes his head toward Th'ero. "No sir, but I can have it to you, with afull report from the others as well, by morning." With that, the lieutenant assumes this is satisfactory and rattles off a salute. He curtly nods to everyone and excuses himself. Aendar has a long report to get to writing.

"I really hope he doesn't need my report as part of his report," Kazulen mumbles, a little uneven. He's tipping, slightly, but he's got the knifesword held carefully out to the side to counterbalance the way the Bowl keeps spinning. Concussions just suck, okay. He squints at Kimmila, temporarily ignoring Th'ero (lucky Weyrleader?) — "Didn't you have a baby or something, like, last week? Why were you fighting, anyway?"

Abigail offers a faint smile to Yurolt, she does feel a bit bas after the last conversation they had ended the way it did. "Welcome Yurolt." Is said softly while she sets the cup of water down next to the cot he is laying upon incase he wants more when he wakes up. What next indeed and she glances over to Inri and Kimmila wondering that herself. She hears Kazulen and eyes him slightly at the question he asks Kimmila and she rolls her eyes.

Th'ero will follow Kimmila without protest and settles himself down next to her, his injured leg propped awkwardly but not seeming to be a discomfort to the bronzerider. The Weyrleader does look a little relieved though, despite his efforts to keep that well under wraps. "Some of us will, yes." he murmurs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His brows settle into a frown then, eyes closing for a moment. The Stonehaven heir. He had forgotten. "Somewhere safe for now, I presume." Th'ero mutters but his tone implies that Rayathess is likely under lock and key. Not a cell, but likely a room… somewhere. Another place for the Weyrleader to be, no doubt, in due time. Kazulen's mumbling earn the guard a sharp look, interupted only to nod to the departing Aendar. "All need to report." he stresses, only to add in a clipped tone. "And mind your tongue as well." he warns, though leaves Kimmila to answer it seems. He will lapse silent and lift a hand to rub a few fingers against his temple.

Kimmila looks at Kazulen, and wordlessly pushes a chair towards him across the bowl floor. Sit. "It's been…a while." She doesn't know how old her kid is? Nice. "Because I was there," she says, her voice firming and getting a little clipped. "I couldn't very well just run away." Glancing to Th'ero, she stares at him for a long moment. "Has anyone told Ezra?"

"Even me?" Inri clarifies, after hiding her tiny smile behind her hand — not last week, Kazulen, but nice try. "I mean — I didn't really do anything, but I guess I was the one who talked to Stonehaven first, so." She'll have to write it up? A pause, before she volunteers, after looking around: "D'ani probably did. I mean, he's not here, so I imagine that's where he went?"

Abigail gives Inri's arm a slight poke. "Ye did plenty. Ye helped out a lot Inri." This said with a soft smile to the other weyrling. She leans back slightly against a table, her arms folding in front of her and she nods lightly to the talk of doing a report. No problem there, she'll be more than happy to write one up. A hand lifts and she scratches at her neck a moment. "I'm rather sure D'ani did. He commented on going to speak with him." At least that is what she recalls hearing when D'ani was leaving.

"Even you, Inri. You were involved with the first refugees and the Harper Gershel as well. Then… yes, Stonehaven. Abigail, you will need to report in as well." Th'ero points out to the gold weyrling, smirking as he does and lowering his hand once more to cross it back under his arm and his glances sidelong to Kimmila. "She is more than capable and I had no concerns for her being present." he adds, eyes shifting to fix Kazulen under his stare once more. Care to question his judgement again? The Weyrleader frowns then, "Well, no. I had wanted to speak to this man first and…" Abruptly the sentence falters and drops as Th'ero turns an incredulous look to Inri and Abigail as well (she was there too, was she not?). "Under whose orders?" he asks, voice suddenly far too calm and cold to mean anything good. How could have not noticed D'ani was not present! Then Abigail seems to be confirming it and the Weyrleader's frown grows heavy and his eyes darken with the first signs of anger. He mutters a curse and then begins to hurriedly and awkwardly try to get to his feet.

Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth exhales heavily over the mental bond. « Well there goes all my hard work. »
Varmiroth projects to Velokraeth . o O ( At least you tried? )
Varmiroth senses that Velokraeth snorts. « Let him suffer the consequences then. I am not going to save his hide from the fire. » Surely the bronze can't mean that?

Inri immediately looks guilty again, though there's a rush to control her expression — maybe to mitigate damage? "I'm sure he'll come back to be debriefed right away," she starts to defend her friend; both of them, in a sense, because if D'ani hadn't gone straight to Ezra, she probably would have. "And I'm also sure it wasn't deliberate disobedience." Just an emotional response, which would also be a bad move were this the days of Thread, but — they're not.

Kimmila blinks in surprise, turning her head to look at Th'ero. "Wait," she says with an irritated huff. "You have a dragon," stupid man, "call him if you want to see him. Sit down, dammit."

"Just look at how faint she's looking!" Kazulen lies through his teeth — although, hand-waving gesture aside, it's entirely possible a) he means any of the women around Th'ero, and b) according to his swimming vision, she actually does — "You don't want to make her worry more about you, do you? Sir?"

Abigail catches the look from Th'ero and blinks, and then blinks again. Wait, what? Did she say something wrong? She clears her throat and is suddenly looking off slightly before chewing on her lip and peers to Inri and then to Th'ero. "I agree with Inri sir. I'm sure he will return shortly. He was just worried about Ezra." She is attempting to smooth things over and hopes she hasn't in turned made things worse. As Kimmila speaks up she slips quieter, a unsure look is sent back to Inri to show that she is sorry for bringing up more. Hearing Kazulen she glances towards him, a brow lifting but she doesn't comment on what was just said.

At least Th'ero can't storm off? Even if it seems as though he's gathering himself in a valiant effort to try. "Deliberate or not, he has no business letting Ezra know!" he says sharply to Inri before regaining control. "I know of his — and your — friendship to the boy but there are times when you cannot let your personal lives interfere with duties. One of these times is now!" Taking a few steps, the Weyrleader has to pause and grip the back of his chair as his leg refuses to cooperate, which only serves to incense the the bronzerider's temper further. "We don't even know of the man's claims are true!" Th'ero goes on to mutter, only to attempt again to walk-hobble away, pausing to give Kimmila a levelled look. "And what good would that do?" The damage has been done? Abigail's comment gets no remark as he's rounding on Kazulen then, paled skin flushing as Kazulen's barbs sink in nicely. Th'ero's eyes flash with noticeable anger then, mixed with… guilt, perhaps? Maybe that actually stung. "You," he points to the young guard. "Are walking a thin and dangerous line." he threatens before pulling back to give all of them a narrowed look. Stupid man and his pride, but he does not sit and turns his back instead to begin "storming" off. Not that he gets very far at all before he has to stop again.

Kimmila throws (underhand!) her water cup at Kazulen. Maybe not the best idea, but it's a gentle toss at least. A 'shut up!' throw. Then with an irritated huff the bluerider gets to her feet again, cursing the Weyrleader under her breath as she storms after him. She can storm off at least? Until she catches up with him and has to match his pace, her head lowered and voice a harsh whisper.
Kimmila whispers "You're a stubborn fool, you know that? Where are we going now? What can't wait?"

Kazulen is now wet, to add insult to injury; his coordination, on display earlier to such acclaim, is completely shot due to the concussion, and so now he's going to have a bruised collarbone to add to his collection. He sits, damp and pathetic, in one of the vacated chairs, and gives anyone who he can tell is looking at him a hangdog, miserable sort of look. Admittedly, his vision's still swimming, so it's hard to tell if he notices anyone looking at him — of those who actually are, anyway.

And with everyone either leaving or half-asleep besides them, Inri looks to Abigail and — shrugs. "Okay," she says, bleakly, "Now what?"

Abigail slips quiet while watching Th'ero as he is going off so to speak, and then as he goes about trying to stay standing. She half shifts as if to help but stops herself as she gets the feeling he would not take it well and most likely glare at her until she busted into flames for the mere thought of helping. She watches as Th'ero goes after Kazulen in words at least and with Th'ero and Kimmila leaving she shifts and moves over to Kazulen, bending down to peer at him curiously. "Hey, ye alright?" There is a slight pause. "I think we should get ye someplace so ye can lay down and rest." Abbey looks to Inri. "Heck if I know. Try not to get in trouble for a few hours, make sure Kazulen here doesn't say anything else to Th'ero for a while as well."

Awkward? They may be actually lucky that Th'ero made an attempt to storm off (more like limp away). The Weyrleader is not a fun man to be around when in a temper, really. Leaning against the bowl wall, he is stopped again as Kimmila comes up to his side to follow him. Whatever she whispered at him has him animatedly and perhaps just as harshly muttering back to her, his voice indistinct. But it's not hard to miss the anger there.
Th'ero whispers "Where else? I need to find this man. D'ani has moved ahead on his own accord and now I have HIS mess to clean up before Ezra tears the Weyr apart trying to find his supposed brother, if the boy just doesn't relapse. THAT is what cannot wait. I cannot… sit idle and suffer insults. Bad enough Velokraeth will not hear me, I won't be made more of a fool by a pup of a Guard or by a Weyrling who does not /think/ before he acts." to Kimmila.

Public displays of affection are off limits, but public displays of arguments are fine? Kimmila hisses right back at him, shaking her head and gesturing.
Kimmila whispers "Then I will have Varmiroth call Dremkoth and tell him to bring you Ezra. Or something."

"I have a head injury," Kazulen told the pretty lady riders standing next to him in a terribly solemn tone. "Maybe two, I'm not sure. And Th'ero is mean and made Kimmila throw water at me." Give or take.

"I think," Inri suggests gently, "that maybe going to the infirmary and getting some rest might be in order. I'll make you a drink another time?" Because concussions are not very good for being drunk either, and in the infirmary at least he could get sleep in three-hour bursts.

Abigail glances towards Kimmila and Th'ero watching them a few moments before she looks back to Kazulen. She holds a hand out to him, well one hand at least if he sees more that is all on him. "Aye I know. I saw that. His not mean, just worried about everything Kazulen." There is a slight pause. "Come on, let's find ye a place to get some rest. Though the healers will be poking ye every few hours ta make sure ye be alright." So he won't be getting that much rest.

Strange how that works out, isn't it? Th'ero may come to his senses enough to realize he IS in fact arguing and losing control of his temper right in the heart of the center bowl after a few more low whispered words to Kimmila. Then he is suddenly lapsing silent again, lips pressing firmly into a twisted grimace. But he's not moving off anymore? And he is mean when he's barbed! Kazulen only has himself to blame for that one. But it seems as though the rest of the group are on their own, though the bowl is still teeming with activity as a pattern is sorted out in all the chaos.
Th'ero whispers "If D'ani has told Ezra, then there is nothing to be done. Dremkoth should be informed though that his rider needs to report in immediately the moment he is capable." to Kimmila.