Consequences of Heroism

Writers: Sia
Date Posted: 20th April 2025

Characters: K'leriac, Quennas
Description: K'leriac faces the consequences of his actions during the flooding.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 6, day 6 of Turn 12

The infirmary always smelled like redwort and numbweed. It was too cold to have fresh air filter in through the windows, and it should have been warm-- it _was_ warm, especially when coming in from the cold outside, but K'leriac felt cold in the way that crept deep into the bones. He sat on the edge of the cot, leg stretched out stiffly in front of him, the bandages around it dark with redwort. The wound ached constantly now, deep and pulsating with every beat of his heart. The skin around it felt hot even through the fabric.

"You waited too long." Quennas said, voice calm but not unkind. He and Quennas had grown up together at Dragonsfall, their paths diverging at apprenticeship and Impression. His avian features were drawn together in thought, trying his best to summon the bedside manner that most healers had but he typically lacked. "The infection is in the muscle now, and it's resisting the antibiotic you've been taking. If we'd caught it earlier, maybe we could have avoided this, but--"

K’leraic stared down at the floor. The stone looked darker here, worn from turns of boots pacing in pain. He imagined his own tread among them. Grounded. Permanently. Thread would fall, wings would fly, and he would be here. On two legs, then one.

“How long,” he asked, hoarse. “If I wait.”

“A sevenday, maybe less. It’ll reach the blood, then the rest of you. It wouldn't be fast.”

K'leriac raised a hand to put pressure on his temple and exhaled. He should have gotten it out of the water when he noticed. He should have gotten it checked out right away instead of continuing on his sweep rotation. He shouldn't have continued on with 'drills the next day like it was nothing, he shouldn't have flown the next Threadfall. _Should have_ echoed hollowly in his mind.

"How far?"

"Below the knee. We keep the joint. We might be able to fit you with some kind of prosthetic. Some sailors have them. It's rudimentary, but at least something to get you walking on your own." Quennas paused for a moment, watching K'leriac closely. "It is your choice to make, of course, but with your family here and your dragon healthy, I wouldn't recommend it. There are other things in life besides fighting Thread."

K'leriac didn't know if that was true. What was the point of a dragonman in the Pass that could no longer fight? But still he nodded, jaw tight. There was no shock left, just a slow collapse inside his chest. A tent in the weyrbowl folding inward. All of this, all of it -- because he hadn't been watching what else was in the floodwater. Because he'd stopped to help some caravans. Because he was too proud to wait for help, too foolhardy to treat it properly. He thought he could shake it off, that /between/ wouldn't damage it as much as it did.

"Fine. Do it." He said quietly.

Quennas moved to stand. "I'll schedule it for the first thing tomorrow. You'll be unconscious. Obrianth--"

"Will lose his mind." K'leriac muttered. "He already knows something's wrong. He's hardly let me leave his side without causing a scene. I'll get him to see if Aluneth or Branth can't sit with him. I won't let him go the same way Riyanth did." He stared down at his leg but not really looking at it, his eyes unfocused as he listened to Obrianth dutifully reach out to both dragons. "I need to tell my mother, so she can watch the kids."

Quennas made a face and K'leriac batted a hand dismissively at him. He hadn't wanted her to worry. Neither of the kids' mothers were in their lives. One was transferred to the Vista Point Wings and the other was on harper circuit up North. Both wrote and visited when they could, but neither were active enough for an extended stay, nor did he want the kids split apart from each other for that long.

"It's stupid, isn't it?" He continued. "I've flown through storms, done the dumbest maneuvers in Threadfall. And it's some floodwater and my own sharding pride that outdid me."

"It wasn't your pride. It was your heroics, if anything." Quennas answered, "And if not that, what are dragonriders for?"

K'leriac shook his head. There wasn't anything else to say.

Obrianth's mind pressed at the edges of his thoughts-- unsettled, worried. K'leriac closed his eyes, focusing on the bronze, threading his thoughts with calm even though his mind raced and his heart pounded. **I'll be all right.**

The bronze's reply came not in words, but in feelings. Fear, love, ache, dread.

K'leriac opened his eyes. "Quen?"

"Yes?"

"If he does go when I'm under, make sure I don't wake up."

Quennas didn’t respond right away. His mouth worked like he had words but none of them wanted to be said out loud. He would have argued before, if it was any other time but now. Instead he only nodded.

Last updated on the April 25th 2025

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Consequences of Heroism