Echoing and austere, blank stone walls are vaulted high to overshadow the row of white-curtained cots along the back wall. Ancient metal gleams steel-bright in the form of sinks and examination table, lit relentlessly by bright glows and reflecting the colours of bottles and jars shelved above. Padlocked cabinets hide the more dangerous drugs and implements, whilst healer paraphenalia litters one solid oak table with sweetly-fragranced herbs and tattered scrolls. A small hearth contains a fire usually banked low, several cauldrons set ready nearby to for heating water. A dark staircase twists up from one corner to the dragonhealer's lair; one low door leads into the lower caverns, another to weyrhealers' quarters. Barn-sized doors open inwards with creak of hinges from the ground weyr.
G'deon ducks in from the inner caverns.
G'deon appears at first glance to be quite calm and collected, though a mischievous gleam seems to tint his blue eyes from time to time. He has grown into a rather well built frame and stands just less than six feet. Many Turns of hard work have helped his shoulders fill out considerably, along with his arms and hands. His legs however are still the wiry limbs of his youth, which he'll never lose. Newly cut hair tops this young man's head, the short hairs glistening hazily, a sandy blond frame for a lightly tanned face accented by his calm blue eyes, clear and blue as the summer sky over High Reaches.
It all begins with snowy lace, just a touch at the chin, then flows down to a gleaming sheath of leather, the jacket fitting tightly to his chest, white like a mountain's glacier. Below is a wide belt of wherhide, a tight loop of ashy cream, and cascading down from there are skin-tight breeches, the color of morning frost, met at the knees by soft leather boots, icy like the oncoming clouds of winter.
Crimson wherhide encompasses G'deon in sleek brilliance, a close-fitting jacket of eye-catching fire. Soft fleece in contrasting cream peaks out from the high collar, the lining made especially warm for High Reaches' winters and the colder void of ::between::. Orange and gold flames lick up the long sleeves in tasteful embroidery: neither too flamboyant nor overly subtle, they match the flames which flicker over the Inferno Wing badge as well as the embroidered emblem on jacket's back, an exact replica of the wing's chevron-shaped insignia which rides high and proud on one crimson shoulder.
Unwavering shadows intertwine with the deep dark blue of a glacier, the two cords forming a single loop. A long tail of the same black and blue hangs from the top of the knot, joined by a thread of silver. Mingling with the cords is a fine ribbon of shimmering bronze, naming G'deon as a bronze rider of High Reaches. Added to his clothing just beneath the knot is a small pin, the emblem of High Reaches accented by licking flames, indicating he is an Inferno rider.
G'deon is 21 Turns, 5 months, and 11 days old.
G'deon peeks his head in the door...
Looking a bit bored, Reiko is nevertheless trying to busy herself with sorting and arranging the various vials and jars and whatnot. Since all the patient-types are asleep. So she's a bit relieved to see an actual awake person, and one she knows at that... but it's not her style to show it, so G'deon is greeted with a finely arched eyebrow. "Morning, G'deon." Emerald eyes flicker over the rider briefly. "You not feeling well?" He looks fine...
"Me? I'm fine," G'deon replies quietly, taking a couple steps into the infirmary. "I'm, ah... looking for my weekly dose of that stuff..."
Reiko eyes G'deon critically. "Stuff?" Emerald eyes flicker over the various bottles of ... whatever they are... and then back to G'deon's face, clearly not comprehending.
G'deon stifles a yawn, his eyes watering a bit. "The red stuff... I forget what the Healers call it, starts with a 'c'... incase you don't want to, you know, um, have kids or anything." By some miracle, the rider manages not to blush. "I was told I'm supposed to take this stuff once a week. Nasty too, but it's for the Weyr's good, trust me," he teases, winking at Reiko before hopping up on an empty cot.
Reiko blinks. Slowly. But doesn't blanch or flush. A thoughtful expression crosses her face, then she shrugs. She'd heard of such a thing, in passing, but hadn't really had the whole process explained to her yet. "I see. Well. I hope you'll recognize it when you see it." Because she hasn't a clue. She walks over to the shelf and takes down a couple of bottles filled with reddish liquid.
G'deon furrows up his brow as he scans the shelves. "They're usually in a tray, all little... tube-like things. Con- something or other." He glances at the ones Reiko has taken and hops off the cot to take a look. "They're really just small little things..." Not quite helpful, he decides to stuff his fists into his jacket where he can't break any of the glass containers.
Reiko hms. Small... tube-like... she begins to think she needs to spend more time actually inventorying the stuff in here instead of just moving it around randomly. Or maybe *gasp* talking to Kariel? Oh, well. She pulls a stool over and climbs up to peer on the higher shelves. Carefully. "Tubes?" A scowl twists her face. Really. Where are the actual /healers/ when she needs them? At last she comes up with a tray, and carefully lowers herself onto the stool. "These?" She really hopes. Because she doesn't know where else to look, really.
"Hey, those are the ones!" G'deon calls over, a pleased smile on his face. "Sorry, I shoulda paid attention before to where they're stored. Haven't been taking it that long though." He reaches over and helps himself to one of the vials, peering at it curiously. "Ah, contraceptive!" he calls out, showing it to Reiko before he remembers belatedly to keep his voice down.
Reiko lifts an eyebrow. "Well, that was obvious from your description," she says wryly. "You're here every week for this?" Her eyes flicker over him before returning to his face, but no further comment is made.
G'deon nods slowly, swirling the vial a little. By the look on his face, it's obvious he doesn't exactly look forward to this. "Aye, just started a couple sevendays ago. I thought it might be a good idea, what with all the babies poppin' out all over the place. Not that I have much reason to worr... I mean." He clamps his mouth shut before he gives away his little secrets. "That is, you never know when a green will go up, and... all that."
Reiko covers a laugh with a cough. "Of course," she says mildly. She eyes the vial, then raises an eyebrow at the look on his face. "You going to drink it, or just play with it?" Folding her arms across her chest, she leans back against the counter and watches with interest.
G'deon grimaces a little but uncaps the vial and quickly drinks the contents, a bitter look on his face. He shakes his head quickly, recaps the vial and holds it out towards Reiko. "Here," he's barely able to mutter.
Reiko nods once, her lips drawn into a thin, reflective line, and takes the empty vial. She turns it once in her hand, as if this might help her understand it better, then replaces it in the tray... not having any clue what /else/ she ought to do with it. "Well." Uncharacteristically at a loss for a snide comment, she seems not to know what to say. "Maybe some klah to wash that down?" She stands up, brushing imaginary dust from her hands. "I could use a break myself."
G'deon nods quickly and gestures for Reiko to lead the way. "Aye. I'd like that," he replies quickly.
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are forty-three firelizards.
You see Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, OOC NOTICE (look sign), Hobbes, Generic Sign-Up Sheet, Charcoal Drawing, Picture, White Clay Egg Pot, Demetre, Box, Tent, and George Dubya bush here.
Iriaguen is here.
G'deon arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Reiko is already at the hearth, pouring off two largish mugs of klah.
G'deon is right on the heals of Reiko, though he remembers to greet Iriaguen, waving a hand towards the young man. "Thank you, Reiko," he says, voice rather rushed.
Thick, glossy black hair falls in a neatly trimmed cascade to brush the tops of his broad shoulders, complimenting a complexion of coffee mixed with cream. Dark skin combined with white teeth and sparkling sloe eyes lends to a positively dazzling smile. His frame is lean, but wiry and muscular and very agile, and although he may be tall he has never allowed his heighth of 6'3 to interfere with his lithe agility in any way. He has a fencer's build, and a dancer's, despite his height. An air of self-possessed amusement seems to almost ooze from his pores. His nicely-shaped lips always seem to be quirked into a smile, sometimes wolfish, sometimes sheepish. Despite his long legs and long torso, he is perfectly acclimatized to his height and build and moves with the balances grace of a leopard through jungle branches. His features are startingly angular, with a pointed nose and sharp chin and even an angular cast to his high cheekbones, and both of his ears are slightly pointed. However, the angular cast to his features in no way detracts from the fact that he is decidedly handsome, in his own, sheep-in-wolf's-clothing sort of way.
A dark cape of thick-spun gray gossamer swirls down about him. A light tunic of woven cobalt blue sisal with long, open-ended, flaring sleeves enhances his muscular chest; over this he wears a heavy, heavily embroidered brown and gold vest. Also, he wears charcoal-coloured dull wherhide pants, close-fitting, cinched tightly about his waist by a black leather belt from which hangs a long, obviously empty dusty black leather sheath. His feet are contained in high-topped dark brown soft wherhide boots. His thick dark hair is masked by a beige chevalier's chapeau, with a cream-coloured feathery plume arcing out from its band. A long, white scar runs down one of his dark cheeks. He is otherwise unadorned. Perched on Iriaguen's shoulder is Shaw. Perched on Iriaguen's shoulder is Icculus. Iriaguen has drawn his trusty rapier, Amalthia.
A double cord in the dark colors of High Reaches Weyr, looped once, hangs somewhat unresponsively upon his shoulder; its purpose is to designate him as a Guard Recruit and resident of said High Reaches Weyr.
Iriaguen is 25 Turns, 6 months, and 25 days old.
Iriaguen is sprawled in an air of lassitude out across several chairs, in a very peculiar position, his head propped up on his elbows. He offers a brief laccadaisical (can't spell) smile at the people, and a slight arch in his eyebrows, but doesn't seem inclined toward conversation.
Reiko takes her mug and the pot to a hearthside table. Emerald eyes flicker appraisingly over the guard recruit who's apparently camping out in the living caverns before returning to the more pressing matter of getting some klah into her system.
G'deon takes a long drink from his mug of klah, regardless of the temperature of the liquid. When he's finished though his face looks remarkably more relaxed, even pleasant. "Ah... that hit the spot. Thank you for suggesting this, Reiko," he says to the young woman before taking a seat. He lifts his mug in some sort of salute to both her and the guard recruit before again taking a drink.
At some point, onyx eyes lose track of the conversation and drift angelically closed. Iriaguen is often weary -- and he looks so harmless when he's asleep, doesn't he?
Reiko nods, slouching idly back in her chair. "Not at all," she says mildly, the corners of her mouth curling into a twisted halfsmile. "You looked like you could use it." If she'd ever doubted it was better to be a woman than a man, that expression on his face had clinched it.
G'deon laughs softly, eyes squinting a bit at the corners as he nods. "Very true... and some food would be nice to," he says, quickly glancing around the cavern. "They don't seem /quite/ ready for breakfast yet, but I think I see some rolls ready, would you like some?" He stands, setting the mug on the table.
Reiko shakes her head, looking almost apologetic. "Actually, I've got to get back." Yeah. Just in case something happens. Or something. She stands, taking her mug with her. "I'll likely see you later, though." With a wink, she heads back for the infirmary.