Infirmary Stalling and Confusion

Writers: Miriah, Suzee
Date Posted: 29th June 2013

Characters: J'ackt, Tavia
Description: Tavia speaks to the newest arrival
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 2, day 1 of Turn 7

J'ackt

Tavia

Vision was hazy as Jenackt's eyes fluttered and his brows furrowed. He
was struck by the sudden realization that his mouth was scratchy and
his throat parched. He licked dry lips and his head turned slightly,
encountering the unfamiliar sensation of feather-softness. It was
confusing. Flashes, dim and barely remembered came to him: a spoon
full of meaty tasting liquid being pressed to his lips, then bitter
liquid being pressed into his mouth, hands tugging at him, a sense of
utter cold and nothingness, flashes of different faces, and then a
measure of comfort. It was all unfamiliar, like a demented dream
pressed upon him by a beleagured mind.

Blue eyes opened slowly to strange surroundings and confusion suddenly
reigned in his mind. This was not the stream. It was not what he last
remembered...shards, he couldn't be back at the Hold...He took a
sudden breath and glanced around, discovering that while he was awake,
he felt extremely weak; his arms and legs didn't want to cooperate
with the sudden demands he made of them. He could barely lift his
head. He tried to rise, but slumped back down, already exhausted by
that little bit of effort. Where was he?

"Well hello there," Tavia leaned over the young man who'd been in her
care, while she was on duty, for the last several days. "Finally
awake? I'll bet you're hungry." She patted his shoulder. "Let me get
some warm broth."

The sudden appearance of the woman made Jenackt jerk back in alarm and
groggy eyes narrowed as his body instinctively tried to move away in
defense but failed. He tried to keep his focus on her, but even after
blinking several times, she didn't quite hold still long enough for
him to do so. His voice came out in a croak. "Who are you?"

"Easy," she said when she saw him flinch. "I'm Tavia," she said. "One
of the sweepriders found you near a stream and brought you to us.
Lucky too," she nodded. "Fall could have caught you out in the open
like that." She ladled some broth into his mouth. "Do you have a
name?" She knew he did of course but it seemed like a nicer question
that just throwing 'Who are _you_' back at him.

At first he tried to move away from the proffered spoon, but as the
broth slipped past his lips, his hunger surged and he eagerly
swallowed. Shards, his stomach felt as though it was going to eat its
way out from his throat. But mistrust still filled his eyes as she
spoke and his eyes darted around, widening when he realized what the
sweeprider meant. "I'm...I'm at the Weyr?" His voice was hoarse. He
had thought that he would most certainly die where he had fallen, but
even that memory was hazy. How long had he lain there?

Another realization hit him. He couldn't tell them who he was... No
doubt the steward and Corowal had already sent out notices. They'd
send him back. His heart began to pound as that sank in. He was
trapped. His eyes swung back to the woman. He had to think of
something. Anything to tell her. Not his father's name; he'd tried
that and they'd recognized it. He couldn't chance giving any part of
his mother's either. He couldn't take any risks that they might
discover...

He stalled. "How long?"

"Yes," she answered his first question softly. "You're at Dolphin Cove
Weyr." She tried to remain calm and confident as his eyes darted
around the room, but she could almost feel his rising panic. Poor sod
had probably lost his memory with what he'd been through. That even
happened to some riders who were unconscious for too long. They woke
up disoriented and sometimes in a panic, though they had their
lifemates to anchor them. This man wasn't that lucky.

"You're safe now," she repeated again. "You've been here about a
week." A chirrup sounded from the rafters and her gold flit sailed
down to settle on her shoulder and wrap her tail possessively around
Tavia's throat. Her eyes whirled a mild blue and green as she regarded
the man in the bed with a cocked head.

Tavia chuckled, "This is Glory, she came to say hello and welcome you
to the Weyr."

Safe. The word was laughable. His eyes moved to the bowl of broth and
then back to her before sliding up to stare at the flit with
discomfort. It was staring at him. He met its gaze stubbornly,
although his wary gaze was far less direct. He then went back to
trying to fuzzily take in his surroundings and force his mind to
cooperate. Weyr. Alright...he could believe that. He must be in
their..what was it...infirmary. They had taken care of him. His brow
snapped down. But why? Why bother? How sick had he been?

A week and who knows how long he had been out by that stream. It was
difficult to concentrate; his brow furrowed and he struggled to rise
again, but faltered after barely lifting part of his torso. He was
unused to being so weak, so helpless and at a strangers mercy. He fell
back, swallowed and then attempted it again out of pure stubborness.
Again he failed and he closed his eyes in frustration. "Why?"

Tavia's brow twitched together, he seemed so confused and disoriented.
Perhaps he'd bumped his head and couldn't remember anything and that
was why he was acting so strangely. "Why are you welcome at the Weyr?
Well because everyone who makes it here is welcome." She pulled the
bowl and spoon out of the way and put them on the table near by. She
could tell he was having some difficulty rising but it would be better
for him if he could get out of bed anyway. "Do you need to relieve
yourself? We can get you up and behind the screen if you want to try."

He opened his eyes to stare at Tavia. What she said was the opposite
of everything he had ever heard, but even more so, he doubted that if
they heard who he was that he'd truly be welcome. He swallowed and
shook his head. He had to have time to think. "No. I just...no." He
turned his face away, feeling exhaustion creep up on him again.

Tavia interpreted his reaction to exhaustion and need for more
recovery. Obviously, he was going to be recovering for some time.
"Well then," she said as she patted his shoulder. "I'll bring more
food when you've had a chance to rest.. Anything particular you'd
like?"

"No." Jenackt's voice was soft and strained. Exhaustion coupled with
stress didn't fan the flames of hunger for him. He had to think of
something, some way to protect himself. He'd find the answer. His eyes
fluttered closed and within moments he slept again, brow knitted
deeply.

Last updated on the July 1st 2013

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Infirmary Stalling and Confusion