I'd Rather Be Threadscored (Marnark)

[Lady Smara]

The twelve turn old found himself with his back pressed firmly against the cool tunnel wall, the kitten in his hand unceremoniously dropped as he closed his eyes. Pushing his head back against the cool stone as well, a look of pain crossed his face. Slowly he slid down that stone wall only to bring up his knees and wrap one arm around them to pull them close to his chest. Resting his forehead on those knees, he ignored the worried meow from the feline.

His head pounded. Light hurt, which was why he was currently sitting well between glow baskets. On top of that, however, many other things seemed to be adding to the pounding. Looking at something, sound, moving, breathing, shards even sitting still seemed to make his head hurt worse.

He had been lucky, the past few days he had been able to avoid the majority of the weyrbrats and thus managed to avoid the bullies and harassment that came with them. It seemed now, however, he was paying the price. This particular headache had been slowly building over the past few days and while a good number of his bruises were finally starting to fade on his small body, he would have happily accepted a dozen new ones to just release the pressure and pounding in his head.

Fighting back tears, as he knew swollen eyes and a stuffed nose would only make matters worse, Tschermak tried to concentrate on breathing in a way that would let his head pound a little more softly. He felt the little feline bat at his dangling hand. He knew he was suppose to be taking the kitten to get some milk, but he was afraid he was in little condition to take the journey until his head let up at least a little bit.

[Marnark]

It was bloody cold outside. As a result, especially following a recent stint in the air (fur lined jackets did not help much), C'mar found himself making his way to where it was warm. Even with an exercised blue dragon in his weyr heating the thing up, it was just too cold. Back home, the deeper into the old Hold a body went, the warmer it got. Thankfully ... that was something he knew from experience. Because cold was something that the North got a lot of. The bad part? He'd somehow managed to acclimate to the warm, humid climate of this Southern place. Now temperatures that were only just touching on freezing made him miserable.

Hands scrounged deeply into warm pockets, C'mar walked down the halls. These weren't so often used he supposed, judging by the glows ... or the lack thereof. But that was alright. He wasn't lost.

As he crossed a juncture, he paused at the faintest of sounds. Pitiful mewling, it sounded like. His step hesitating, he couldn't help but wonder what a young feline would be doing down here ... much less abandoned so to be mewing like that. Turning from his previously straight path to take the side hall, he walked farther down.

To find a kid balled up on the floor looking like he wished to be dead. And the kitten batting at him. Heh ... animals. They had a way of knowing. "Hey kid." C'mar started. "What are you doing down here by yourself?" He pulled the thighs of his trousers up as he crouched, preventing them from bursting and ripping out from the motion. Resting elbows on knees, he looked at the wadded up form.

Somehow, that looked like pain that right there.

[Lady Smara]

The footsteps had thudded in time with the pounding of his head, making it impossible for Tschermak to tell if they had been moving in his direction or down another hall. He had hoped it would be the rather, but he soon found that to not be true as a voice spoke nearby. Hearing the question, the 12 turn old was tempted to cover his head further in his arms just to keep the sound out. Even so, he knew the person would probably not leave if he ignored him, it unfortunately never seemed to work that way.

“It’s quiet…” he muttered softly from between his knees. “And dark…” It was clear to hear the pain laced through his voice, and if one knew Tschermak they would know it took a great deal of pain despite his age to make that happen. Of course, it was because of these headaches that he had such a high pain tolerance to begin with.

Fighting to lift his head, he gave up when the pain shot through behind his eyes once more, instead settling for turning it and resting it on his side so he could pull his eyes open ever so slightly. The light made him wince but he fought the urge to hide his face once more.

“Sorry, Sir. I can go elsewhere…” he muttered before finally unwrapping his arms from his knees and attempting to hold back the pain as he prepared for the shock of standing. He wanted to be where it was dark and quiet, but he didn’t want to get in trouble. He got into enough of that.

[Marnark]

A dimglow could see the kid was in major pain. Something was certainly wrong. C'mar stood up again. "You certainly need to go elsewhere, that is for sure. More like to the infirmary." He agreed, stepping over. "Hold on." With little ado but a lot more gentleness than C'mar was prone to using, he scooped the kid up off the floor into his arms. Most people would have sworn that he wouldn't have been capable of it either.

Even if the kid had been possessed of his wits, he wouldn't have been able to argue with C'mar over the issue either. Built like any smith crafter, there were few people that could argue with C'mar and get anywhere with it. If there was anyone C'mar knew could help the kid, it was R'gar. And luckily, he even knew where to find his uncle. The wings weren't flying at the moment, so that meant R'gar would be at the infirmary. If he wasn't off courting that little blind girl he'd dug up somewhere.

Now that was something that C'mar straight up did not understand. But neither was he going to argue with R'gar about it. Lokinth. Tell Apollath that R'gar is needed in the infirmary. He prompted, just to be sure.

That was one thing that was really cool about dragons ... it was like having an instant message relay system. No need for runners or having to hunt someone down yourself. Definitely far more reliable.

Apollath says he's already there. Lokinth answered groggily.

"Excellent." C'mar moved quickly, careful to not jostle the kid too much. "What's your name, kid?" He asked, as he turned around to shove through a door with his shoulder.

[Lady Smara]

Before Tschermak could make it to his own feet, he found the world suddenly spinning beneath him as his aforementioned feet left the floor. The ‘hold on’ that had come as warning had registered too late in the young boy’s pounding head and he paniced as he reached out attempting to catch his balance, his fore arm smacking C’mar square in the nose even as Tschermak jumped again at the contact, jarring his own head.

Closing his eyes tightly, he let out a small gasp as he unwillingly shrunk into the huge man’s arms, his body letting out a shudder of pain. By the time the pounding subsided, they were already well on their way and Tschermak finally registered that the man had picked him up. Keeping his eyes closed, he leaned into the man’s broad chest even as he attempted to offer protest once more.

“No, really… I can get there… I can walk… maybe.” He finally admitted in the end and while his voice and mind might have been protesting against being carried like a small child, the young teenager could not fight against it as his body was currently in no shape to do so against a man so much larger than himself.

[Marnark]

"You're alright, just take it easy." C'mar answered as he moved through the door and on past the other side. It didn't take him long at all to finish the trip to the infirmary, his long stride carrying him quickly across the ground. Once he reached the place, he was met promptly by his uncle, though C'mar hardly thought of him as such, instead more of a brother. They were certainly close enough in age for it, and had grown up more as such.

"What's this?" R'gar asked, as C'mar carefully set the kid down on one of the beds.

"I found him in a hall. Said something about the light and sound. He acts like his head's got a post through it." C'mar answered, backing off a step as R'gar moved in. The healer checked Tschermak's eyes first, and then proceeded to inspect the boy's neck.

"Sounds like a migraine." R'gar answered, though that part was obvious to even the densest person around. Now to just ascertain why he was having a migraine. "What did you eat recently, anything out of the ordinary?" He asked, though he suspected the cause was a misaligned neck. Especially the vertebrae closest to the skull.

Fixing the migraine was easy ... he could do that in a flash. But he didn't want to do that until he knew why the boy was suffering. Treating the symptom would not help him much if the cause was not corrected to keep it from happening again. Looking up at C'mar, he jerked his chin at the glow basket.

Without a word, C'mar stepped over to it and closed the shutter on it almost all the way, dropping that area of the infirmary into seriously dim light.

[Lady Smara]

Hearing a new voice join the one carrying him, Tschermak decided at the moment he didn’t really care, the brightness of whatever room the man had brought him to was enough to make up his mind for him. Finding his eyes being opened for him, however, the young boy groaned and batted away the hand before tossing his elbow up and over his eyes to keep that from happening again. Shard it all, what were they messing with his eyes for?

Upon hearing the new voice declare it was a migraine, Tschermak was not sure what the word meant so when a frown fell upon his own lips, he opened them to correct the man. “I’ve just got a headache…” The words came out an almost whine. He didn’t really want anyone fussing over him, he just wanted the pain to go away. Hearing the man ask about food, the young boy was confused all over again.

“I had a sweetroll for breakfast.” He said, ignoring the fact that it was well into the evening now and not adding in that his breakfast had been more of a midnight snack when he couldn’t sleep and had snuck into the kitchens on his own.

As the light in the world dimmed, however, Tschermak quieted for a moment, before opening his eyes beneath his elbow. Finding the world much more bearable, he finally lowered the arm as well and while the look of pain was still clear on his face, he could at least see who it was asking the silly questions. What he found, however, was yet another HUGE man like the first, only this one had a ponytail tied behind his neck. They both looked like they should have been either holding a the pick of a miner or the hammer of a smith, not standing in the infirmary fussing over what he had eaten like a crèche woman.

[Marnark]

"A sweetroll." R'gar stated, repeating what the kid had said. "Are you sure that's all you ate?"

"It's not the sweetroll. Unless he's allergic to wheat." C'mar commented, earning a short stare from R'gar.

"Last I checked, you hadn't ever even set foot in a healer hall, shut up." R'gar answered, even though C'mar was most likely right. There was also the bit of osmosis ... for a smithcrafter, C'mar knew an awful lot about healing simply because he hung out with R'gar a lot.

Lifting the lad by his shoulders, R'gar slid his hands up the kid's neck, carefully feeling each little nuance, knot, and bump in that section of his spine. For a moment he massaged the musculature there, but he couldn't find anything obviously out of place. "Hrm." He commented, more to himself than anyone else. This would certainly bear looking into. Again, he checked the lad's eyes just to ensure there was no head injury or concussion going on. Finding none such, he stepped away to get the items he knew would cure the headache in a flash.

At least for the moment. He didn't know the cause, but he could relieve the symptoms until he could figure out the rest. He applied a little tincture made from a specific tree's bark into a little of a hotpepper tincture, giving the two a solid stir. In another cup, he stirred some honey into about a cup of milk. Carrying these both back to Tschermak, he gave him the tincture cup. "Knock this back quickly, and chase it with this." He instructed, offering the milk after the fact.

The tincture mix would shoot straight to his bloodstream, and open up every last one of his vessels, effectively removing the headache by allowing plenty of blood to the brain ... the lack of which being the whole reason why it was hurting. However, at the same time, his mouth, throat, and the top of his head were liable to feel like they had just been blown off by a volcano.

Thus the sweetened milk, to kill the burn in his mouth and throat anyway. The tears and running snot and ears would just have to dry up after about five minutes on its own.

[Lady Smara]

Tschermak could not help but raise an eyebrow as the pony-tail’d man told the large nosed man to shut up. The Weyrbrats within the crèche were often told to not use such language and while they often heard riders and adults use it while drinking in the WeyrHall, the Infirmary was not somewhere the boy was use to hearing it. Even so, it made the men before him seem a little… less… healer-ish and more like real people.

Finding himself lifted up, the 12 turn old put his arms behind him to support himself as the man with the ponytail began to fiddle with his neck. His throat was not soar, but then again it wasn’t the front of his neck that the man was fiddling with, it was the back. The simple ‘hmm’ that escaped him did nothing to help the boy and he found himself frustrated. “Hmm what?”

When an answer was not forth coming, however, Tschermak found himself left watching the man mix up two different glasses with different stuff. While the one he was told to chase it with did not smell bad, he couldn’t say the same for the first one. Taking the smaller of the two, he sniffed it first before wincing and offering it back to the man. “No thanks! That smells terrible!”

[Marnark]

R'gar sighed. He was afraid of that. But he'd give the lad one more try before he forced it down his throat. "Look, it may not smell all that great, but it will cure your headache. Do you want it to go away or not? Trust me, if you make me make you drink it, you will not be happy." He warned.

"I could always lift the shade on the glows." C'mar offered.

"Stuff it, C'mar. If you're going to keep making such helpful comments you can take them elsewhere." R'gar answered, before taking a finger and lifting the backside of the cup with the medicine in it. "Drink." He insisted.

C'mar only laughed a little, and wandered off a few steps to tinker in something he found on a table there. At the sound of clinking glass items, R'gar didn't even look up. He merely stated: "Don't mess with that."

"Whaaaat? I didn't do anything ... aw shit." he muttered as something decidedly dumped over onto the table's surface with a rather ... wet... sound. "Do you have a towel handy?"

R'gar blew a slow sigh, and pointed at where a towel could be found, his gaze still fixed on the kid. "Drink."

[Lady Smara]

Headache or not, Tschermak was not going to touch that stuff with a ten foot stick. Letting his eyes wander upwards even as he closed his eyes, the boy let the hand holding the cup rest to the side of him on the bed as he lowered himself back down. Laying in the darkened room, he flopped the free hand back over his face so his elbow hid more of the little light that was in the room. The bed was comfortable and if the big nosed guy would stop talking he was sure the headache would subside… eventually.

Honestly he liked the idea of getting rid of the headache, he just didn’t like the idea of drinking the stuff. Other healers had attempted to give him teas and even felis juice, but they would either not work or only work to bring it down to a dull ache. Needless to say, thus far the taste has never been worth the reward. No, he’ll wait it out.

“Why don’t you drink it.” He retorted with a wince.

[Marnark]

"Why don't I drink it?" R'gar asked, as C'mar went to find said towel. "Because I'm not the one with the crippling headache, last I checked." He answered, lifting both cups from the kid's hands. The milk he set aside out of reach where it wouldn't get spilled. Then he moved swiftly, leaning over and pinching Tschermak's nose shut and pouring the tincture down his throat so fast that he didn't even see it coming ... of course it helped alot that he'd been covering his own eyes at that moment.

Dropping the cup, R'gar clapped his mouth shut with that hand, holding him that way until he felt him swallow the tincture.

Naturally, the longer he held that in his mouth, the more miserable he'd be. It was not exactly the most ... palatable ... stuff. It was downright hot, actually. "Swallow." He commanded.

C'mar didn't even make a comment as he watched that as he walked back. He'd seen R'gar do it before ... and had even been subjected to it once ... or five times. He knew just what that was like. It had taken awhile, but he had eventually got it through his thick skull that it was easier to just choke down whatever R'gar decided he should swallow.

It was easier. Because in the end? R'gar always got it down whatever throat he aimed to get it down.

"I suggest doing what he says, kid. Sooner the better." C'mar said, before trying to sop up his mess. Which only resulted in more stuff getting knocked over. "Aww, really?"

[Lady Smara]

While his mouth had been initially closed, as soon as he felt fingers clasp his nose he opened his mouth to continue breathing as the arm across his eyes came up so he could see what the shards was going on. As his mouth opened, however, he found himself taking a breath to argue with the man only to find his mouth, lips, tongue, nose, throat and lungs suddenly on fire.

Closing his eyes, he flailed in panic as he coughed and sputtered into the hand across his lips, his own hands grabbing at the fingers and attempting to pull them off in vain. Hearing the man tell him to swallow, he wanted to scream at him that he was choking! He couldn’t bloody well swallow while it was going down his windpipe!

After a few jerks and more violent coughs that only rattled his head, he felt the heat in his face and body growing rapidly as he attempted to finally do as the man with his unyielding grip commanded him to do. Swallowing several times, he could have swore any liquid that may have been in his body was now pouring out of him even as he continued to cough, tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes.

As soon as that unyielding hand finally left his lips, Tschermak rolled over to the side of the bed, letting his head hang over it as he continued to cough and sputter. Shards and Shells! What the threadscore was that?!

[Marnark]

Having the kid breathe the tincture had not been part of the plan. But at least he'd swallowed it. R'gar had let go as fast as he saw that it had been swallowed. At first he had thought the flailing had been over the ... distinctive flavor. Not because it had been breathed. Coughing, yes, that could be normal, depending on the person. But that distinctive wet sound mean it wasn't just a revulsion cough. He'd breathed it.

Now that ... that had to be a special brand of pain. Breathing this stuff? R'gar didn't even want to think about how that felt! There was little he could do about it however, other than let the kid cough it up. He picked up the discarded cup and set it aside, picking up the milk again in preparation to offer it again once he was done coughing.

C'mar glanced over at Tschermak as well, and frowned. "I told you to do what he says." He reminded, before going back to trying to clean up his expanded mess. Which was pretty much an effort in vain, as he didn't have enough towel and he was only smearing it around now.

"Stop, just ... stop." R'gar said, holding a hand out at C'mar. "Leave it, I'll get it later. You're only making it distinctly worse."

"Alright, alright. Sheesh." C'mar dropped the towel where it was, and looked at his hands while deciding whether or not it would leave irreparable stains and smells on his britches if he were to wipe them off there.

[Lady Smara]

Finally laying a crooked arm on the edge of the bed, Tschermak finally slowed in his coughing, closing his eyes and leaning his soaking wet forehead against his elbow. “Shards and Shells…” he sore under his breath even as he panted at the sudden raise in temperature of the room. “What in the red star’s name was that cra--- stuff.” He said, realizing he should probably stop swearing in front of the adults, but dear sweet Faranth, that was nasty! Not only did his throat and mouth burn, but even breathing burned.

His body heaving out a shudder, he buried his head further into his elbow for a moment before he finally heard the man with a pony tail tell the other man to just stop. Lifting his head, Tschermak looked at the mess then back up at the man who had carried him in to be tortured by the other.

“And didn’t I tell you I would go? You didn’t have to bring me here in the first place.” Even as he started to argue with C’mar, however, Tschermak failed to realize that already the headache was swiftly receding. Even so, while Tschermak was not normally one to fight or argue, he felt as if he had almost been violated and wasn’t exactly happy about it.