Dragon Rider Play

Pat nodded then helped her drag it inside and separated the pieces for her dragon and Mellon.  "Mellon, are you ready to eat?"

Mellon chirped excitedly and wriggled in excitement at the idea of food.

Jeremiah parted ways with Pat at the rookery and headed to the Medical Ward to try and talk to Tithenor.

Pat laughed and pushed his half toward him.  "You will have to freeze it yourself, okay?"

Tithenor sat on the edge of his bed, gripping the edge tight enough to turn his knuckles white.  The stab wounds in his chest were deep, one had only just missed his heart, and he'd not yet regained the blood he'd lost.  He needed to heal, but he wanted to be up.  SO he sat now in only his pants, the white bandages wrapped about his chest like armor.  He kept his head down, breathing deeply as his hair fell in tangles about his shoulders.

Mellon gladly did just that. he liked to show off how well he could use and control his breath powers.

Jeremiah walked in and sighed a little. "Dude, please don't kill yourself."

Tithenor tensed, not having expected Jeremiah.  "I will not," he said hoarsely.  "I need to sit up.  I can't stay on my back any more."

Jeremiah left and came back with a glass of water for the elf. "Does 53 know you're sitting?" He asked. "You look like a bedsheet you're so pale."

"I may have neglected to mention it," TIthenor admitted, accepting the glass with a shaking hand.  "I will lay down.  Just a moment more.  Please."

Jeremiah nodded. "Just don't kill yourself over it, okay? Mark and his younger brother may try and stop by later and talk to you, and I doubt it's make a good first impression on Luke to see you needing more surgery because you moved around too much." Jeremiah sighed. He wanted to tell Tithenor what was going on, but felt it was better if Mark explained than him.

"Very well." Tithenor finished off the glass of water and set it aside. With great care, he inched himself around and lay back once more. He caught his breath and rested a moment, frowning as he thought. "Why is Mark's brother here?"

"Ah, I think it's best if he explains it." Jeremiah said honestly. "How are you feeling today, other than stir crazy?"

Tithenor considered the question. "Stable," he decided. "I do not feel as fragile. Thank you for asking."

Jeremiah smiled. "That's good to hear, at least." He paused. "Is there a specific time you want Mark and Luke to come and see you?"

"Let them explore some, I am not going anywhere," Tithenor replied.  "I will need some time to make myself presentable.  Did someone feed Mellon?"

Jeremiah nodded. "Nightshade caught a huge groundhog Pat butchered for them to split."

"I must remember to thank him," Tithenor murmured.  "May I ask of you a favor?"

Jeremiah looked at Tithenor, curious now. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Tithenor pointed to his shirt hanging over the back of the chair.  "Shake that out very well and help me into it?"

Jeremiah nodded and gave it a good shake before he brought it over to his brother.

Tithenor thanked him and with a bit of help worked himself into the shirt.  That felt better, being dressed in clean clothes.  "Thank you, honeg.  I feel proper again."

Jeremiah smiled. "You're always some degree of proper, toriaun."

"Propriety is what makes an elf," Tithenor replied calmly.

Jeremiah laughed. "So I take more after my father than I think? I'm not very proper usually. I can be if I try, but I don't nornally."

"There are arguments as to whether or not Drow are more akin to elves or dwarves, genetically speaking," Tithenor explained as he started brushing out his hair.  "Either way, Draw are incredibly proper, hiding their emotions deep.  Until that mask is broken.  Drow passions run deep and powerful, and their emotions spread like wildfire through the colony.  As do the passions of dwarves.  It is because they live in close quarters deep underground.  Or so it is theorized."

"Huh." Jeremiah said. "So I'm emotional from my mum's side then...."

"Entirely likely.  Hold this, please," Tithenor said, holding out a strand of half braided hair.  Tiny braid.