Shard it, every time I take a bath...

[Onyxaeon]

There's nothing like the peace that comes from being in the Bathing Pools after a long day. It's quite and calm, no distractions, no tensions. Every little problem can simply simmer to the surface and float away and all your sore muscles can sing to their greatest contentment as loud as they please without disturbing others. It's a glorious feeling, one Patrón was particularly looking forward to as he stepped through the slow mist of steam. Towel in hand, he craned his neck around to locate an available pool. To his delight all were curretly vacated (probably due to the increase in guard duty since some unsavory activities had occured only recently and few riders had any sort of free time) and he had the chance to pick the best of the lot. With caution for the wet stone floor, Patrón padded over to the largest, and also warmest, of the pools. Bubbles scrambled to the surface at its center spilling over one another to crowd their way out to the sides of the pool. Here, the fog was particularly thick and entitled the young man to a great deal of privacy if others managed to make their way in. After all, it was later in the day and shifts had to end at some point. He would have to be quick because there was no point in a relaxing dip if you were suddenly swarmed by dozens of sweaty, grimy quarry workers hooting and hollering.

He drapped his towel across the pool ledge and set his sweet scrubbing sand within easy reach will he disrobed. The garments were shed one by one, each meeting the same fate of having been tossed onto a conveniant nearby stone. He didn't bother with folding-they would have to be washed anyway because he had been out working the runner stables again and thoroughly smelt of hay and the beasts.

Carefully, his left foot tested the waters before he settled down to let both legs dangle into the depths. Gray-green eyes scanned about for tunnel snakes, knowing they enjoy the heat. Once he had deemed it all clear, he lowered himself down into the water and allowed himself a brief moment to float on his back. Ah, peace, he thought to himself, leaning his head back to soak the stray covered locks. "Just a quick rinse," he said to the surrounding stone walls, reaching for the sweet sands when the sound of falling rock hitting stone caught his ears. His eyes whirled, pivoting to locate the sound with one hand still in the bag of sand. After a minute or two, Patrón decided it must have been loose rock and shrugged it off. Hand still in the sand, he shook his head to clear the thought and pulled and handful up, proceeding to scrub away the smell on his skin. Five minutes of this and he was clean enough to suit his tastes, running the last of the sand off of his chest and swimming the short distance from the center of the pool where he had wandered to the edge.

He was halfway through the process of lifting himself up when a slow shiver went down his spine. Cold? In this steamy mess of humidty? Had he not been preoccupied with the sudden chill he would have noticed the strong mind creeping into his own. As he did not, the sudden assualt to his senses sent Patrón slipping on the wet stone edge while trying to get up. His chest struck the edge with the full force of his weight effectively knocking any air he had out of his lungs and leaving a lovely bleeding gash across his pectorals. His head hit the sides on his way back into the water, adding dizziness to his obvious list of problems as blood trickled into the water and he splashed about, trying to right himself without air in his lungs and no sense of which way was up or down. Someone was sure to hear his frantic sloshing of water and come find him but, then again, the bathing pools were empty after all...

[Bacchante]

Fire.

Flashing, burning, leaping, searing.

Below, another was awake. It felt the questing thought go out again, carefully, tentatively. This one was not so callous as its fellow, nor quite as unsubtle. It slipped in, touched the tendril, merged with it. Felt it sweep across minds, useless minds, worthless minds, not an iota of potential except for... There. Yes, there. That one. He felt the questing tendril push inward, link up, start sweeping across the Sands. The larger mind, the Wraith, was weak now. Her focus divided. Like a match put to oil the alien thought attacked her, but gentle. Far more gentle.

Above, Zenith felt her link to Patron falter and dissolve. Puzzled, she pulled her mind off the eggs to try and reach for him again only to have that tendril explode with a little flash of pain. Confused, angry, she reached for B'ach but the attacking mind got there first and slashed, surrounded, layering her thought with its own. She was sealed inside her own head, a net of fire laid across her brain. It was hot inside, and stung a little, but it wasn't like the other one. She began to bellow and roar and smash the ground.

B'ach heard the noise and came running into is chamber, expecting to find his dragon thrashing and writhing in pain. Instead, she was lying in her hollow glaring at him and smacking her palm against the ground. "Zen! ZEN! What's wrong, what's going on?" He tried to reach out through their link, their bond, and felt nothing on the other end. His blood froze, but not for long. The Wraithqueen swept him aside with her mighty paw and sprayed acid all over the floor. She waited but a moment for it to soak in before feverishly carving a single word into the rock and holding up her partner so he could see. He understood and, as soon as she put him down, moved.

Once more he slid, his hand meeting metal as he launched into the abyss. Reaching the next level he repeated his antics from the previous day, but this time shouted for a Ghost to go ahead, leap down without him, and visit the bathing pools at top speed. Hopefully he'd be in time.

The fire was not so kind to the boy. It swept into his mind, burning through what little there was in the way of mental defenses. In the back of the young man's mind it cornered him in a similar fashion to the other: Them in the empty plane that was his lower thought, it shining in the dark. Except this time, flaming tendrils streamed from the light to envelop, encircle, enslave. His mind was held and bound and the fire plunged further, into the deepest reaches. It laughed as it encountered hazes of confusion, clouded by alcohol, and swept them aside by plugging directly into the memory banks containing pure visual input.

It saw what Patron had not and its laughter filled the nether-world of his mind. Fire surged from it into his entire mind, burning every aspect of his thoughts and filling it with the searing explosion of pain. Holding up his limp mental form, it pointed him at a 'wall' of his mind and, one by one, seared words upon it.

Skrull Is Justice Skrull Is Honor Skrull Is Reason

They Were Unjust They Were Cruel They Were Hateful

Why Be Punished For No Crime?
Why Weather Their Injustice?
Why Stand For Their Hatred?

Believe In Your FIRE

Believe In Your PASSION

Believe In Your FREEDOM

The burning of his mind wherever it touched stopped; So that as it pulled itself from its groggy state it saw, on the way back to consciousness, these words in letters miles high seared on the inside of his head. So that it heard the whisper in his ear, a whisper that spoke in a tone promising everything. It promised the sky and all the stars therein. It promised the land and all the riches he could carry. It promised Pern and all the freedom he could want. It whispered his name, just one word, and then...

Patron... I'm coming for you...

And then it was gone. Patron was lying on the stone on the side of the pool with B'ach pressing down on his chest, trying to force the water out. As the boy coughed and spluttered he wasted little to no time in grasping him. "What happened! What did you see?"

[Onyxaeon]

Patrón heaved, coughing up massive amounts of water and rolling onto his side. His arms tried to stabolize his body to little avail while he coughed, sputtering up the last remnants of the pool's waters. He barely had time to get all of the liquid out of his lungs before he was roughly shaken by B'ach. The moment his eyes focused and he could see clearly, his arm shot outward and pushed the Weyrleader out of his way via the man's shoulder. Patrón continued with a series of coughs, shaking his head and sliding across the floor as if it had been B'ach that had attacked him. His eyes closed tightly against the images burned in his mind, trying to erase the searing pain that scorched his neurons only to hear the Weyrleader continuing to shout at him.

In that instant, Patrón lost all diplomacy and formalities. Blood shot eyes snapped their attention to B'ach and an intense anger clouded the muscles of his face as trickles of water dribbled from his mouth. "I nearly," cough, "drown and you," heave, "expect me to...talk about...it?!?!?!!!?" Patrón suddenly realized his nudity and scrambled for his towel, quickly wrapping it around his waist and nearly falling back into the pool in the process. He only faintly registered the throbbing in his chest from the gravel covered lacerations and did not seem to notice the slow trail of blood down his stomach. With his head between his knees as best as he could manage with a towel around him Patrón made the greatest of efforts to not hurl. It was a near impossible task and he inevitably failed and had to wipe the corners of his mouth with the edges of his towel. With his body attempting recovery from his assualt, he laid down on the wet stone floor and stared back up at the Weyrleader, trying to breathe steadily and calmly as he pushed his wet plastered hair off of his forehead. "It said my...name. It's coming for me. I don't know why." A puzzled look crossed his eyes as he thought over the words still searing their way across his eyelids and the sparse flashes of images he had seen cross his mind while he was enslaved to the being. They were snippets of the night before he had left Ring Mount but each was without audio and clouded, covered in a milky fog thats only purpose seemed to distort his memories and erase their outcomes. He had waited too long to examine the images and had lost a great deal of them as his mind tried to block out what he had seen over the course of that night. To tell or not? If the Weyrleader found out he had withheld information from him he could be exhiled or possibly worse so, in this case, it was better to just grit and bear it and tell the man what he saw.

"I didn't quite understand it all. It told me to believe in my fire, my passion, my freedom. That Skrull is justice, honor, and reason and 'they' were unjust, cruel, and hateful. It also questioned; Why be punished for no crime? Why weather their injustice? Why stand for their hatred?" Patrón shook his head, staring blankly down at the bubbling pool now. "What happened...I really don't know. I was kind of hoping you could answer me that. I thought I felt a dragon mind, something similiar to when your Zenith spoke directly to all candidates before we went to the Shaft. The other presence...it was too hot to decipher. It....burned and sorched. I was powerless to stop it. It raped my memories and found exactly what it wanted and then, just as abruptly as it came, it left me in peace."

[Bacchante]

B'ach ignored the impudence from Patron. It wasn't important right now. This was the second time... And it was much worse this time. As well as far more explicit. "You and you. Carry him to the infirmary." Two men moved forward, gingerly picking Patron up by supporting him under his knees and shoulders. Together, they moved out of the Baths. The Wraithrider walked around the puddle of vomit and knelt beside the bath, holding his hand just above the water. Most of the baths had steam, but not as much. This particular area had a pool with cold water added regularly to create the soothing mist.

Right now, the steam was so thick above the pool that one could barely see it. Bubbles were to be expected, with the heat. But this pool was, currently, boiling over. There was a man in the infirmary now being treated for second degree burns who could verify this. His arms had been seared when he pulled the boy out. He had been fast, so they were only in the first degree where he had touched the water. Where he had touched Patron's skin, when he had pulled him out initially...

Standing, and with a bleak expression, B'ach strode away.

In the infirmary, the healer was tutting as she cleaned out the gravel from Patron's wound. "Ah, when will you boys stop playing so rough in the bathhouses? It's bad enough I have to deal with the burns on your friend over there, but this?" She gestured with her head at a man lying nearby, having a sweet-smelling gunk applied to his arms by the healer's assistant. "I don't even understand how that happened! The water isn't nearly hot enough"

From the door, a voice caused a simultaneous jump in the infirmary. "I'd like to know how as well." It was B'ach. His eye were narrowed, staring at Patron. Calmly, he moved over to the boy on his back and waved the healer out of the way. "Pass me a needle and thread, then go help your helper with that burn. It's a nasty one." Looking annoyed at the intrusion, the old lady put down the tray and moved off. The needle was bone, extremely thin but well made, and the thread sinew. Taking the sickly smelling salve off the tray, the Weyrleader began to gently daub it around the edges of the wound.

He leaned in, ostensibly to see his work better but really so he could speak quietly to the young man. "Don't worry. Journeyman Healer certification. I'm fully qualified to do this. Now then, young man, we need to chat for a moment. Do you realize that you were found, unconscious and flailing, in boiling water. Yes, boiling. You yourself are unharmed because, it seems, you were hotter than that. In your flailing you struck your rescuer on the shoulder. He now has a hand-shaped burn there. Now... I know you're in pain, though this numbsalve should help. So, while nice Mister B'ach sews up your nasty gash why don't you explain to me again, and slowly, exactly what happened to you."

Perhaps he was being a little condescending. But he felt Patron had earned it, in some way, for whatever the hell he had done to attract the attention of whatever the hell was capable of taking the boy's body temp to a level capable of literally roasting human flesh without his painful demise.

[Onyxaeon]

Patrón half objected to being coddled so on the short trip down to the infirmary-he was not a toddler and could very well walk on his own two feet-but decided against it as B'ach was going to have his way one way or the other with or without Patrón's consent. Best not to waste energy and further infect his wound at this point in any case. When they settled him down on the cot the Master Healer came trotting over to him in a most miffed fashion, almost as if all her feathers were ruffled by the action of him having to come down here to create more work for her. An irritated sigh almost passed his lips but he curbed the half hiss and exchanged it for a wince when the elder woman began digging pieces of stone from his flesh. As much as he tried to focus on what she was doing to him, his attention kept wavering to the other man in the room. Burns? Wait, what? His eyes scanned the other cot, eyeballing the other individual closely and trying to discover the shape burned onto his arm. Was that a hand print....

B'ach's sudden words caused him to startle slightly, shaking his head to focus and to get back to the conversation at hand. The Weyrleader shooed the healer away and he took up the needle and thread; Patrón barely kept back the breath he was holding. Qualified...yeah sure. The jack-of-all-trades Weyrleader had to be lacking in some things and Patrón just hoped healing wasn't that particular weakness as he applied the salve and began the stitching process. Thankfully, he seemed "qualified" enough to know what he was doing and the candidate settled down somewhat enough to listen to his next words.

So it was a hand print on that man's shoulder. Patrón nodded despite the Weyrleader's tone, choosing to shrug it off because he really was in no state to argue. In all honesty his chest was still aching faintly and his stomach was rolling, churning from his earlier expulsion. His skin had cooled dramatically and, as he felt his arm to test B'ach's words, he could not help but faintly doubt them. Flailing, yes; he had slipped and he had tried to catch himself...But the burning, oh the burning! It had been a searing heat that scorched his lungs and filled his blood, swelling his organs and turning the liquids in his body into flowing rush of molten rock. With slow, distracted words, he tried to explain once more, attempting to remember exactly how things had played out.

"I felt a chill, like I was suddenly freezing. I tried to get out of the pool but something...snagged my mind. Like a snare for small game, I got yanked back into the pool and struck my chest against the ledge. I think I hit my head on the way down-I'm still a little light headed but I guess that's semi normal." Patrón glanced down at B'ach's work, biting his bottom lip as he tried to recall the finest of details from his assault. "The first prick to my thoughts felt draconic, similar to Zenith's the other day. The second was very neutral, I could not tell you if I wanted to if it was male, female, dragon, human, or what have you. All I know is it saw fit to tear apart every single memory I've had throughout my life. It laughed at me going through the memories that brought me here," his voice got quieter here, more pensive.

"There was so much pain. The only thing I would liken it to is being burned alive by dragon fire. Then, when it had pretty much destroyed my defenses and had me hanging within my own thoughts, it burned those words I spoke to you earlier about in my mind. I can still see them against my eyelids..."

[pandoraMisfit]

Nwalme kept her head down as she worked, even when B’ach entered the room and spoke. It made her jump visibly, enough that she slipped with the salve and caught the man’s burn awkwardly. He let out a startled gasp before a string of expletives. Thankfully, they weren’t too loud, although she did get a sharp look from her senior. She had promised Riki to tell the Weyrleader about what had happened in the library, but right now… no, she was busy and the Weyrleader himself was definitely busy. He had dismissed the elder healer and she came harrumphing over. “Watch what you are doing silly girl, you don’t need to scrape any more of his skin off with your bandages.” Nwalme looked hurt for a split second before she hid it expertly away. Softening, the old woman patted the girl on the shoulder. “I know you can do it girl, it must be hard with that lumbering arm. Still, it’ll be all healed soon, and you’ll be back up to speed.”

Acknowledging her senior healer with a nod, Nwalme continued working, applying the salve as gently as she could.
Turning her hand hovered over the badges on the table waiting with the instruments of the trade. Then she thought better of it, burns healed a lot more quickly when exposed to air. When she got to the mysteriously shaped burn on his shoulder, she took a second to fathom what it was. A handprint. She almost gasped in shock before she reigned herself in, professionalism taking over. Sure she might not be more than an apprentice but that gave her no excuse for being a wherry-head. The edges of the wound were torn and bloodied, the latter having crusted up quite grotesquely. She felt for the poor man. This was going to sting, especially as she couldn’t apply any salve or cooling agent until the wound was at least clean and dry. Reaching for a swab of clean cloth, she soaked it in some lukewarm sterilised water and tenderly started dabbing at the edges of the misshapen wound. It would have to do for now, as disturbing the blistered skin could promote the growth of bacteria – and an infection was the last thing her mentor wanted to deal with. The man gritted his teeth together, but you could still hear the oaths he was desperately trying to stem back.

Though she was intent on her task, words slipped into her consciousness that made her ears prick up. Something very strange had happened to Patron and whilst it wasn’t much of her business, it again sparked that niggling reminder of her promise to Riki. The lad said something about a mind-touch… could that have been what she had experienced? She kept a shudder to herself as the rest of the explanation filtered into her brain, snippets here and there lost by the groans of the man she was working on. She got the gist of it anyway. Putting the final swab back in the bowl, the water now a lovely shade of transparent brown, she surveyed her work. It still looked awful, but it was clean. Her patient was looking a little pale, especially his face. Moving around the bed she put her fingers on his wrists, and began counting. His pulse was perhaps a little fast, which would be normal under the circumstances. Thankfully not fast enough to indicate shock. Then she asked him to look at her, then to perform some basic eye exercises. Good. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Her job done as best as she could complete it, she requested leave from the woman who had been watching her work. Granted.

Nwalme swept her runner-tail back over her shoulder, fidgeting for the sake of it. She didn’t want to disturb B’ach even more now than when she had blacked out herself. And her experience was so different to Patron’s but… it could have its similarities, right? There had definitely been something in the darkness with her.

Patron ceased talking, and while B’ach appeared to be mulling it over, Nwalme took her chance to approach. Meekly she stepped over, taking care to be light footed. Her approach would be noted of course, but that didn’t stop her from trying to make herself seem as small as possible. “Sorry to interrupt… I know this is important… but I think something similar.. might have happened to me?” She phrased the last as a question as she still wasn’t too certain what had actually happened. Her voice barely penetrated the air as she spoke. “Riki wanted me to tell you… but I didn’t think it was important…” She faded to silence again. She barely knew Patron and B’ach was a very imposing figure in her mind. She hated bringing the attention to herself, but after all, a promise was a promise and now seemed as good a time as any.

[Bacchante]

It took B'ach a few seconds to register that Nwalme had even spoken, what with how focused he was and how quiet she was. He was running the similarities through his head. The other... Well, in that case the better word would be incident, because although Zenith had been hurt the actual focus of the intrusion had not been. The other incident bore definite similarities to this one. Occurring during the Trial of Will, of course, and involving an invasion of the memory. But Kendrik hadn't felt nearly as much pain as Patrón had.

The other thing that concerned him was Zenith. She could speak to him again, and in fact he was having trouble ignoring her passionate cursing in the back of his mind's ear. How on Pern had she learnt so many different ways to cuss? The problem was that this presence, rather than simply smashing her mind, had sealed it off entirely. He'd never heard of anything short of death stopping a rider from communicating with his dragon and the sudden absence of her thought in his head would have been troubling if he had noticed it before she started roaring at him.

In any case, he stayed where he was for a few seconds until his brain replayed a few things for him. "Yes, yes, that's very nice Nwal-Wait... What?" He turned to her, pushing out a query to his dragon. She replied shortly that Nwalme had recieved interest from a Shade egg, and nothing else. But she sounded... Hesitant. Unsure of herself. -Zen... What's wrong?- He waved silence at the others as he cocked his head, feeling his dragons discomfort radiating down their link. <Nothing, Mine, it's just... I don't know. I remember touching Nwalme's mind while she was in the library... And I remember reaching out to the eggs... And then I remember thinking about her reaction, but...>

B'ach didn't need anything more to be said, having already inferred it from the direction she had been going. Zenith remembered the beginning and the aftereffects of the Trial, but not the event itself. On top of that, B'ach prided himself on being able to read people well. Nwalme was not lying to him. He wasn't even sure if she was capable of lying. With a sigh, the Weyrleader ensconced himself upon a nearby bed, a brooding expression on his face. "Mistress Kaneh? Pull the curtain, please." The Master Healer turned her head, eyes wide at the phrasing B'ach had used. Nodding, she pulled the curtain around the burn victim and stepped inside to work on him.

Standing and moving over to the table Patrón was on, the Wraithrider beckoned Nwalme closer. "In the last few days, three specific incidents have happened during the event known as the Trial of Will. Two days ago, a Candidate named Kendrik found himself passing out on a table. During this time, Zenith was struck by some unknown assailant who caused her intense mental pain." His gloved fingers drummed on the table as he stared at Patrón, seeing the similarities in their experiences. "Kendrik reported seeing darkness, hearing a voice whisper his name and something rifling through his memories."

The diamond-hard gaze emanating from his dark green orbs turned itself on Nwalme now. Hers was the outlier, in a way, but no less significant. "Yesterday, Nwalme, your Trial was administered. Zen refused to stop just because of one bad experience. I'm not sure what happened to you, but what I do know is that it was a different presence this time because rather than attacking her it clouded her mind and memories." For a few moments he kept looking at her, but finally decided the scrutiny was unhelpful and simply glared at the ground. This entire thing offended him. "I'd be interested to know what you witnessed."

But not now. Now was the time to deal with the young man on the table. "Then there is today. Rather than hiding the incident, or taking her out of comission, whatever the perpetrator of this event decided to seal her off. It smashed all her mental connections and sealed her in her own head. I only knew what was going on because of her quick thinking in carving the location she'd been surveying on the floor of her Weyr. In your case, there was not only excuciating pain and a lot more communication, but also physical effects. For a brief time, you were as hot as flame."

And now, it was time to voice his ultimate suspicion. Or perhaps the best term was fear? The Trial of Will was a connection with dragons, meant to be a calm and peaceful communion of like minds. Instead it had become a brutal struggle of wills. "Since the Trial of Will involves linking your minds briefly to the unhatched eggs buried in the Sands, it is highly likely that the things responsible for this are dragons. The Sands run deep... Many eggs have been buried, and they are layered ever deeper for each season they do not hatch. The warmth keeps them dormant and alive. For whatever reason, something new has awoken. And it appears to want... Well... You."

[Onyxaeon]

The similarities were far too obvious to ignore and undoubtedly disturbing enough to the Weyrleader that he wished himself, as well as both candidates, closed off from the rest of the infirmary occupants. Patrón considered this all as he heard Nwalme's own experience-brief though it may be-and made faint connections of his own. It seemed that between himself, Kendrik, and Nwalme-three individuals whom probably had utterly no knowledge of the others even existing-the only thing shared between them was the Trail of Will and it only made fitting sense that dragons were responsible for the various assualts on the Wraithqueen and the candidates. After all nothing else existing on Pern had the ability to infiltrate someone's mind and thoughts or control a person's body or mind. He knew of the tales of Miseries and Wildfires in Black Sands as two simple examples and it only seemed logical that where one mutation pioneers, more will follow suit.

With his chest thoroughly stitched up, Patrón leaned back against the stone wall for support-the cot did not offer a head board-and peered over to view both B'ach and Nwalme. "I don't quite understand all of this shock. I mean, if what we're dealing with is indeed unhatched dragons than mutations are fairly common. Shells, look at the other Weyrs and you can see that. As for the...various effects on each of our bodies, I can't say I'm as surprised as you appear. Look at the dragons of Black Sands, for example. I've never seen a Misery or Wildfire in person, but I'm sure you both have heard of what they have done. Is this really so different from what those existing dragons can do?" P

atrón ran a hand through his locks before adjusting his towel so as not to flash the female candidate before him. "Supposing these injuries and assaults are from buried dragonets." He gestured outwardly toward B'ach, extending his hand and tilting it toward the Weyrleader. "With the thought in mind that any one of the dragons that visited Kendrik, Nwalme, and I respectively could cause the Wraithqueen intense mental pain, alter her memories, or seal her inside of her own mind, what will you have us do?"

Patrón stared on calmly at the Weyrleader, his gray-green eyes never wavering and only losing contact to blink. The situation was not to be taken likely as displayed by the man's demeanor but was there any real solution? It didn't seem wise to fret about something that had no real fix. What were they supposed to do, keep them from the sands? Patrón had to voice this notion, his eyes flickering briefly to Nwalme.

"I don't see what can be done right now but wait. We haven't even been through the Trial of Knowledge yet and, according to the law, we cannot stand unless we do. Those dragons can't bond to the ones they chose if we're not there to accept them. I'm not saying this out of hope to not Impress but of simple honesty. Shells, it might even be me that can't show you I'm worthy enough but that's not the point. The point of the matter is, what will you have of the three of us if this causes you worry? Are we to stay away from the Sands, M'lord?"

Patrón shook his head, sighing and turning his attention to his hands as they rested in his lap. His digits turned our themselves as he thought, his voice lowering to keep any unwanted ears from hearing his next words. "I will take what you order with a grain of salt because, in my mind's eye, I don't believe it will be as simple as keeping us away from the dragonets to forestall Impression and to prevent problems arising within the Weyr. What I felt while it held me inside of my own head...I wonder if Rukbat could even manage to keep it away. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the home you have given me or disrespectful in the least, but I do feel that it's been waiting. I'm not certain I'm the 'right' individual for him or her in everyone else's eyes, but I feel I can earn that right personally. I can't give up now, not this close. I obviously can't speak for Nwalme, but please don't request of me to stop just before the finish line. I've lost so much time already to the shit-excuse my language-that I've done. Backing down now seems about as pointless as asking a dragon not to care for his or her rider."

[pandoraMisfit]

B’ach discomposure when he realised what she had actually said shocked Nwalme .She had thought him an almost impenetrable fortress of willpower and steel. It was nice to know that even the Weyrleader was only human. Still it brought a blush to rise on her face. She stammered a low apology. With keen interest she listened to what had happened for the other two during the Trial of Will. From the sounds of it she had gotten off easy, and that made her slightly embarrassed for even bringing it up. But, it seemed like B’ach wanted to hear about it, was avidly interested in these goings on even. His gaze was making her uncomfortable as it had during their first meeting. She always felt about two foot tall when around B’ach. She switched her gaze elsewhere, suddenly becoming very interested in toying with the edge of the curtain, as if making sure it were fully closed. Eventually she felt his gaze leave her and she returned to look between the two men she now shared that small confined space with. The Weyrleader may well want to hear her experiences, but for now he was more interested in sussing out Patron’s incident. Which was all well and good. His of course had been more dire, and much more life-threatening. Not to the boy, but to those around him. She’d seen the effects first hand, had cleaned it up.

Listening proved easy enough when the spotlight was no longer on her.It was… interesting to say the least and almost outrageous at best. Zenith, being manipulated? The largest dragon on Pern and something could render her so helpless? Nwalme swallowed nervously. She was beginning to like this less and less. Especially when B’ach surmised that it could be possible that unhatched dragons were doing these deeds. What on Pern?

Patron spoke, voicing his opinion. It was alright… as far as the other mutations on Pern’s existence. Her voice broke into the conversation, cracking as she spoke. She didn’t like to butt in, but she had to state her mind. “Other mutations have powers… certainly, yes. But for something to be so strong in the shell? I…. I’ve never heard of it.” She mumbled something about having read a lot then shut up again. Her quick eyes didn’t fail to notice Patron’s subtle adjustment, although this caused her no problem. Though she might be embarrassed elsewhere, she was in the infirmary, and therefore still in the work frame of mind. She’d seen plenty of anatomy here.

Listening and listening, the girl fidgeted. She was almost appalled at herself for interrupting her fellow candidate, but she felt that particular titbit needed voicing. After all, maybe it would let the gravity of the situation sink in a little bit more. Not that she was saying it hadn’t, but she seemed to be more apprehensive about the whole thing. She disliked the fact that the connections had been so upsetting for Zenith. Well, upsetting was an understatement. She disliked the fact that dragons in the shell were already exhibiting strange and potent powers. It didn’t gel with her understanding of the world. She cleared her throat – not to get attention, but because it had gone dry in the preceding minutes when all the cards were being laid on the table. For the time being she remained mute. She had clammed up again, nervy and tense.

Patron was giving it his all and she raised an eyebrow when he had finished. Swearing was not uncommon, but it still jarred her when it was uttered in her presence. Nwalme wasn’t a wilting flower by any means, but she did have standards that she set herself- not swearing aloud was one of them.

He was right, but Nwalme remembered the force with which she had been forbidden from the sands – a force that had followed her own impudence. She inadvertently flinched at the memory. If B’ach would forbid them from the sands, there was little they could do about it. She didn’t say this though. Instead, she licked her lips for moisture before speaking. “My experience… my experience wasn’t so vivid as yours… for me to feel the presence was waiting for me alone… It said my name… But other than that it was very… subtle shall I say?” She cast her memory back to the other day. She kept scrunching the sleeve of her tunic in her hand in agitation. This was like being asked to stand up in front of class and recite your ballads, or so it felt to her. Riki, she had learnt to speak more freely with, but now she was jarring and quiet in her speech. “I was suspended in darkness….. n-not just that… but it seemed heavy, clinging…cold….. I couldn’t move. For hours…. Nothing. Just floating there….and then there was a light of sorts… colours like a dragon’s eye. My name, or I think it was my name, so very softly spoken…Or I imagined the voice? And then I woke up on the floor.” She drew a deep breath at the end of it all. That was as good a summary as she could get, especially as the events were more and more like a dream with each passing day. “But.. if what our Weyrleader thinks is true… a-a-and I’m sure he’s right…. That it’s the dragons… And… the one that linked with you… is certainly waiting for you… then isn’t it worth the wait?... If you, or I don’t pass this time, there are always other chances…. We n-never just have the, the one strike.” Again, another speech. And again she felt mortified at having spoken her mind so freely, no matter how jilted the delivery. She put her head down, eyes searching the floor for something to fixate on. [/size]

[Bacchante]

B'ach nodded as both Patrón and Nwalme raised some good points, even if the latter seemed quite unsure of herself. His outward composure, at least, had returned. Both of them were very right. Well, except for one thing. "I wish I had half as much faith in myself as you seem to, Nwalme. Patrón, you're absolutely correct. I should have you two confined to your quarters until after the Hatching. However..." There was another concern, one which nobody else seemed to have thought of.

Truth be told, even he hadn't until now. But seeing two more cases of this strange power had recalled something. Briefly, he related something to them for both their sakes: That the dragons of Skrull laid in hibernation until they sensed an appropriate rider. In reality, they chose when to hatch. The Hatching ceremony was so groups of riders could be put through together, more than anything. "Which makes me worry... Because if these dragonets are strong enough in their shells to reach out and harm Zenith, examine your minds... What's to stop them just Hatching on their own and coming to get you?"

Below, the three minds relaxed back into their shells Their fears would not be realized. The 'Weyrleader' had obviously come to the conclusion they had wished. Confident that their displays had begot the desired effect, the trio returned to their rest in preparation for the days to come.

"The three of you will stand, if you meet the requirements. And you will not speak of this to anyone, except each other. Patrón, you stay here until Kaneh says otherwise. If anything else happens, come see me immediately. If you want to speak to Kendrik, he can be found in the library most days." There. It was decided. Nodding to both of them in turn, B'ach strode for the door. Behind the curtains, the Master Healer heard the cessation of voices and decided it was safe to come out.

But she saw the Weyrleader had barely gone a step before stopping again. "Patrón? I understand you may be unsure as to whether or not you passed the Trial of Courage. All I'll say... Is that I guess it counts." And then he was gone, leaving the Healer to chuckle at his ribbing of the half-naked young man on the bed. [/color]"Your clothes are over there, boy. If B'ach stitched you up, then that means you're free to go as soon as Nwalme puts a bandage over them. Nothing strenuous for the next few days, understand? Come back here in the mornings and she'll change the wrapping for you. And come apologize to the nice man in the bed over there before you leave."

The older woman put a tray of salve and rough cloth bandage on to the bench beside Patrón. "Rub that over the cut until it's soaked in, then bandage him. Reapply the salve when you change the cloth until you can't see the stitching anymore." Satisfied that Nwalme could do an acceptable job, even without the full use of her other arm, she went back to continue applying the soothing poultices to the burns and left the children to their own devices.

[Onyxaeon]

Patrón muffled a groan as B'ach undermined him once more. Yeah, it was a little irksome to have a Weyrleader who suffered short-male-syndrome and had to worm his authority into any given situation. "As you wish, m'lord," he offered as the Weyrleader strode out of the room and the master healer stated her own two marks worth of laughter at his expense. At least she was kind enough to inform him he could shortly leave this slightly embarrassing place and be off to study for that blasted trial of knowledge. Maybe Kendrik would be of service there...He logged that thought away as he carefully lifted himself off of the cot. Brushing past Nwalme, he gathered his clothes and settled himself behind a curtain long enough to pull on his breeches before returning to sit down so his chest could be tended to. With a slight frown on his lips, his eyes cast themselves upon the female candidate and his voice became gentle if not somewhat tarnished by the fact his public ego stab had slightly effected his mood. "I am sorry you have to spend your time tending to a downright wherryhead. I should have been more careful when I was getting out of the pool regardless of how distracted my mind was at the time."

When the cool salve coated his wound, the young man grit his teeth ever so slightly. It wasn't so much the sudden chill that was the real bothers as it was the fact the flesh was still raw and any contact, even the smallest and lightest of touches, caused the already inflamed wound to puff up further and stain his surrounding flesh in a flushed shade of crimson. It was not the girl's fault by any means so he bit his tongue and kept his reactions down to the bare minimum. "I believe B'ach has a serious disdain for me." Patrón's comment was off handed and meant only to occupy time and to ease the discomfort he could sense was growing within her muscles as she peered over his lacerations and deemed the salve dried enough to begin the bandaging process. After cutting out several strips, he leaned back onto his arms as instructed and offered his ribcage up to the apprentice as if it were a platter adorned in gourmet foods. Straight and perfect, an attempt to make her job as easy as possible.

"I came here because of less than noble circumstances and he offered me refuge here, though grudgingly. It was a kindness I did not deserve but I do have worth to which I honestly believe he cares not for. I'm not certain you could sympathize with such a problem because you seem well adjusted and quite...content, for lack of a better word with how you are now. I don't wish to be the outsider and fool recent circumstances have claimed me to be but such is fate, I suppose. I suppose it is better to be in solitude where at least I know what's actually worthwhile instead of having to prove myself each and every time I rise." She was quick with wrapping him up and Patrón surveyed the work she had done.He performed a few simple movements. nothing too bad as he had been ordered against it, just to see if the bandages would hold and he could perform simple tasks around the Weyr. When they proved to hold, he thanked Nwalme with genuine earnestly and pulled his tunic over his head before tugging on his boots one at a time. One more thing to do before leaving and that was to apologize to the man whom he had burned so badly.

With care, he padded around delicate equipment to make his way to the man's cot. He gave his apologies, swearing it would not happen again. "If there is anything I can do for you simply ask. Once more, I apologize for the state you are in because of me. It is my fault I was in the baths and my fault I allowed you to be harmed in the process of my flailing. Forgive me." He dipped his head and turned to leave but, before he headed for the door, he caught Nwalme by the shoulder and whispered to her softly. "Don't worry; I'm not near as much of a recluse as I seem. Come talk to me when you get the chance. I feel I should...explain myself for lack of a better word."

[pandoraMisfit]

Nwalme breathed a quiet sigh of relief. So she would stand - permitting she passed the trial of knowledge that was. She had been studying all she could in her free time, copies of the relative scrolls residing permanently in her bag. She side stepped as Patron went to retrieve his clothes. When he returned, she was still looking at the floor. His voice made her jump a little, and she let her gaze rise to meet his. She smiled a little, although an edge of nervousness still lingered on her face. Shaking her head, she told him that she didn't mind - she'd seen sillier accidents after all. At least this could be excused by a legitimate reason. She thought back. Ah, there was one much sillier incident. "Once, I had to wash out some bawling kid's eye... you'd n-never guess what he had been doing.... only messing about with spices from the store cupboard... throwing them at his friend. Of course, he got an eyeful and needed medical attention... I'm pretty sure it wasn't pleasant... but very stupid of him in the first place." She pulled a face to show how much of an idiot the child had been. Kids will be kids, but there are some things you know not to do. Like throwing a handful of spice at your friend's face.

Taking the pot of salve that Kaneh had left for her, she unscrewed the lid, with a little difficulty. As best she could, she held the body of the jar between her body and her bandaged arm, whilst her usable hand twisted at the lid. It was a little difficult, but she was getting the knack of doing things one-handed. Whatever would she do when she could use the both of them again? Successful in her mission, she turned to her patient and began daubing the wound as instructed. Her brows knit together as she was doing this, trying to use the gentlest of touches, but still causing pain. As she finished, he spoke again. "I believe B'ach has a serious disdain for me." Well that was odd. She looked up from her ministrations to meet his eye and quirked an eyebrow. "Do you think so?" She spoke subtly, more concentrating on the work ahead of her than anything else.

Thankfully, he was more than willing to help and positioned himself for her to easily wrap him in bandages. She listened to his story as she continued. Pick a strip up, wrap, pull taught, wrap, tuck under. Rinse and repeat. For some reason that babble helped her to relax a little. Despite how engrossed she got in her work, she could always feel the tension, palpable in awkward silences. As there was no silence, all was well. When she had finished with the bandages, she ran a keen eye over her handiwork, checking there were no loose ends. Already they were becoming saturated with the salve, despite its apparent dryness. Her patient did a few exercises, testing the limits of the wrappings he now wore. She held her breath - what if she'd done them too loosely? What if they just fell off, or were they too tight?.... Ah, no they seemed fine. She could breathe again. She never had much faith in her work to begin with, even less how that her handicap was constantly getting in the way. She just felt that her work was getting shoddy. She shuffled backwards, allowing the man in front of her an exit from the cot.

When Patron thanked her for her work, she did a little sort of dip-like curtsy, bowing her head. "It was no problem," came the quiet voice. She focused on a spot just over his shoulder than actually on his face, her nerves already jangling from the amount of human contact she had been subjected to today. That was her folly, she mused, working in the infirmary. Ah well, but it had been her choice and sooner or later she'd have to learn to be more open, less wary of other people.

She was in the process of gathering up the sheet that had been laid on the cot to take it away for sterilisation or disposal when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She instinctively flinched away as she spun round to see who it was. Ah, only Patron. Her heart was like a rabbit trying to escape from her chest. His voice was as soft as hers had been all day, although his words were a little puzzling. Recluse? Hmm. At least he was willing to admit he was open to company. He left her standing there a little flabbergasted. He wanted to talk to her again. To explain himself? Huh? Well that certainly was strange. Sure, she had seen him around, and today they had shared rather intimate experiences, but she wasn't sure why he needed to explain himself to her further. Shaking her head and giving a mental shrug, she gave a little nod at his retreating form. She'd give it some thought. With that, she walked back into the main infirmary, sheets resting on her bandaged arm as she swept the curtain back open. She greeted Kaneh with a smile smile s was her custom when they passed before she carried on to start some other chores that needed doing.