I've never heard of a dragon being sick before

Ista Weyr - Living Caverns
Large enough to house the entirity of the weyr's population at one time, the cavern set aside to house the very heart of the weyr's life is a grandoise, somewhat circular affair, filled with rows of long tables. Bustling and busy, it is a rare moment indeed when there is not someone at work or leisure in here; the long trestle table by the kitchens is perpetually filled with plates and trays of food, a pot of something always bubbling upon the mahogany hearth, ready to fill the belly of any hungry resident or rider. Although a high table is set aside for seating respected dignitaries on formal occasions, most of the tables here are not designated to any particular group— rather, all levels of Ista's population eat together, intermingled across the broad cavern.
Great tapestries have been flung down the walls, orange and black borders remarking upon Ista's heritage, the age-faded hangings depicting scenes of importance to the Weyr— the erruption of the volcano; the first clutch; the view from the star stones, over forest, dark beach, and glistening waves of blue. Propellor-like fans have been affixed to the ceiling in more modern times, cooling the cavern on the hottest of days. Passageways lead up the stairs to the kitchens, down a second flight of stairs to the lower caverns, and out into the expanse of the broad weyr bowl.

The main caverns are relatively empty come this time of the morning. The rush for breakfast being gone, the rush for lunch still a good few candlemarks off. Near the hearth, as if anyone would need it any warmer in Ista's summer months, sits the usual group of gossiping old aunties. All fairly normal for the time of day. What might be a bit more unusual is the teen who's wiping down the tables now that most all the hungry riders and residents have gone on their way to attend to morning routines. That teen, why Zorya of course, the harper having recently traded the knot of blue and white for one of white all on its own marking her as a candidate once again, which of course makes much more sense as to the reasoning behind the task at hand.

D'son walks on into the caverns and pulls his riding cap off, sweeps a hand through sweat-damp hair and walks a little heavily towards one of the tables. A grimace appears on his face for its damp state and he looks up, spots Zorya at her task. A little grin replaces the grimace and the bronzerider clears his throat. "Hey Zorya. Got a good spot where I can sit?"

Zorya glances up only once the greeting is given. People walk through the caverns often enough the simple idea that someone is moving through isn't reason enough to draw her attention. "Oh, hi," she returns, blue eyes settling on the young bronze rider, a smile pulling to her lips as she pauses. "Anywhere should be good," she adds, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her face, "Just about done here."

"Anyplace not damp?" D'son elaborates with a grin and moves to unfasten his jacket, cap stuffed into a pocket. "Had the wing out drilling," he explains. "Probably be a few more of them in here in a minute looking for late food and drink," the bronzerider goes on. "It's getting tough covering all the sweeps with more dragons going sick."

Zorya hmms, "Probably over there," she replies, pointing towards the tables nearest the serving table. Started up there so.." Well they've had the most time to dry. "These few right here," being the three or four closest, "Are probably the only ones that are really though." A of acknowledgement on sweeps, "Yeah?"

D'son looks that way and takes a few steps away to drop his jacket to the back of a chair and rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah. Riders are fine but I don't want the dragons running themselves ragged and getting worse, you know?"

Zorya nods, "Makes sense to me," she agrees, pulling the rag from the table she was at to return it to a bucket on the serving table. "So, they don't have any idea what's causing it?" Of course she's heard a bit here and there of what's going on with things, but details are few and far between.

D'son shakes his head as he moves towards where the klah and bread baskets are kept. "Not that I know of, nope. Just you know, don't want to be standing downwind when a dragon starts sneezing or coughing." He makes big eyes at the thought.

Zorya laughs lightly, "Yeah, Ah don't know that Ah'd want ta be either," she agrees, ringing out the cloth and draping it over the bucket to dry. Really though, who would. "Hopefully the healers will figure it out soon enough," straightening the rag if only for something to keep her hands busy.

D'son fills up a mug with klah and roots through the baskets until he finds a couple of meatrolls and one fruit filled pastry, puts these on a plate and turns back to the table Zorya had pointed him to before. "Yeah, me too. Poor dragons seem so miserable y'know? I've never heard of a dragon being sick before, either."

"Me either," Zorya replies after taking a moment to think over the comment. Then again she's by no means an expert on dragons. "Ah mean it doesn't sound so strange that they'd get sick, but…" What she's trying to say she's not exactly sure how to put to words the right way. The girl leans back against the table behind her to look towards D'son as they continue conversation. "And with eggs on the sands and all… you think they'll be okay?"

"I'm no expert either, but you know, just don't remember it happening before here," D'son says with a little shrug and starts to dig into his food. "Hope so," Dels says with a little grimace.

Zorya nods, "Well you've been here longer than me too." she notes idly, followed by another nod for his reply on the eggs. "Ankhepith's got it from what Ah heard, Uncle L'ton was having a time keep Dhon out of the hatching grounds."

"Yeah, I heard the same," D'son answers with a little shake of his head. "Hopefully she'll get better before they hatch," he says sincerely and has another big sip of klah then suddenly starts ooughing. Wrong pipe? He's got the oddest expression on his face though.

"Hopefully," Zorya agrees. There's not much else she has to say on the topic however, though as D'son coughing the girl blinks. "You okay?" she inquires. "Ya aren't coming down with this whole thing too now?" That, that would just be bad. Yes.

D'son clears his throat a few times and shakes his head, blinking rapidly and turns a little to look out towards the Bowl. "I uh — no, no I'm okay. I — whoa." He blinks a few more times, then grins back at Zorya. "Inimeth's … interested in someone out there. In the Bowl. For the eggs. He's never done anything like that before. Felt all kinds of weird in my head."

Zorya ohs, "Right, well… maybe you should see to that then?" she suggests, "Ah..," A glance back towards the bucket and the table behind her. "Should be getting back to things here anyway."

D'son rubs at his chin and scarfs another bite of pastry. "Um … yeah. Can come along if you like, but I don't want to steal you from your duties," Dels says a little sheepishly, puts the un-eaten meatroll into his pocket, swigs down the last of the klah and grabs his jacket, still looking all kinds of surprised as he goes to head out.

Zorya nods. "Should be getting back to things," she says again, "Go ahead, I'll catch ya later I'm sure. Its good to hear Inimeth's still doing well with everything going on though." she adds, offering a smile for the rider before she turns back to finish cleaning up things at the serving table.

D'son gives a little wave to Zorya and swings his jacket over his shoulder. "See you later, Zorya. And yeah, I've been telling him to hold his breath a lot," he says with a little snort, waves again and ducks outside.

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