Withdrawal Begins

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 9th October 2019

Characters: L'keri, Urlene
Description: L'keri starts to feel the withdrawal from spirits and Urlene assists
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 13, day 3 of Turn 9

L'keri

Urlene

What: DCW
Mentioned: Olwinna
----

L'keri's first day in the infirmary at Dolphin Cove passed with
agonising slowness. His sore head didn't seem to clear as it usually did
after a few hours had passed, leaving him with a throbbing pain behind
his eyes, a dry throat and an unsettled stomach. He soon discovered that
lying still in bed all day was not as comfortable as it sounded. His
muscles ached and twinged, his skin itched and sweated and when he tried
to shift position, his ribs complained. His leg felt like a massive,
leaden anchor weighing him down on the bed, so dulled by numbweed that
it barely felt like a part of him.

Even his attempts at flirtation with the pretty young apprentice who
came to refill his glass of water fell on deaf ears. The next time, she
was replaced by a young journeyman who looked at him as though he
couldn't imagine how anyone could have injured themself in such a stupid
way but was trying to be polite and professional about it. And as
welcome as the cool water was, it brought with it the humiliation of
having to ask the healers to help him relieve himself.

There was one saving grace; by the time the afternoon was fading into
evening, L'keri was feeling far too unwell to care about his restricted
diet. When the journeyman returned to offer him the choice between roast
wherry and salad or vegetable stew, he shook his head listlessly. A
hangover didn't usually last this long. What was wrong with him? He
remembered the Weyrhealer's comments about infection, and how he could
lose his leg after all, and it scared him into speaking out.

"You feel sick?" The journeyman laid a hand on L'keri's forehead for a
moment, frowning. "You're warm, but not burning hot. I'll check your leg."

L'keri leaned back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He
didn't want to see that again. Only when he felt the light touch of the
sheet on his skin again did he look at the healer.

"I can't see any sign of infection, but with the bruising..." The young
man chewed his lower lip. "I'm going to ask the Master to take a look.
Don't worry. I'll be back in just a moment."

"There's no need..." But he was already gone. L'keri groaned and closed
his eyes, trying to breathe deeply. **I'm not infected. I can't be. I am
_not_ going to be sick.**

It had been expected, so when Urlene received the nervous summons, she
was not far away from the infirmary. She rapped lightly on the door to
announce herself, then stepped in, closing the door behind her. "It's
started then." Laying a cool hand on his brow, she looked down at
L'keri. "The next few days are going to be difficult for you and you may
be very sick. Your body has gotten used to drink and it needs to cleanse
itself." She turned, dipping a clean cloth into cool water. Wringing it
out, she laid the cloth on his brow.

As awful as he felt, at least it didn't sound as though he was infected
and he felt some relief, as well as confusion. He frowned. "Of course
I'm used to drink. Been doing it most of my life. What's wrong with just
giving my body what it wants?" A faint lascivious grin appeared on his
face, though he felt too weak and nauseous to do much more than lift his
head from the pillow. "Not the only thing it wants, either. Now that
you're here..."

"I prefer my partners fit and healthy, not pudgy, drunken sots who can't
remember basic courtesy or respect a women's choice when she clearly
isn't interested. As a matter of fact, it makes me wonder if you simply
can't take no for an answer at all." Her tone was purposefully cutting
and cold, meaning to slice through his flirtation with vicious
precision. "As for the alcohol, you're well on your way to having your
organs shut down, your skin and eyes turn yellow, and dying a slow,
painful death while you dragon is tortured by feeling every bit of
sickness that your body can't fight. I've seen it happen." She stared
down at him. "You care so little for him."

"No - it's not that - I just..." He struggled for words, but even
without the pounding headache and the sickness in his stomach he
wouldn't have known how to explain how he needed the wild nights, the
exhilaration of feeling young and carefree again for a short time, free
of the weight of guilt that dragged at his heart without the soothing
cushion of drink. In those moments, it seemed worth the aches and sour
sickness that always followed. He'd always thought that it was him that
suffered, not Rhalith, that it wasn't bad enough to be a cause for
concern. Could he have been wrong?

He sighed. "Fine. I get the message. No flirting." Slumping back on the
bed, he regretted the movement a moment later as his stomach roiled.
Trying to take his mind off it, he went on. "I'm not what you seem to
think I am. I never turned up drunk for Fall or drills. Maybe I was a
little hung over on watch from time to time, but it didn't stop me doing
my duty."

"Just from doing it fully alert and at your best." Urlene countered,
filling a small bag with herbs. She poured steaming water in a cup
from a carafe, then began dipping the bag steadily in the hot water.
"My father's brother drank as you do and there were always excuses
from 'I simply can't wake up properly without a drink', to 'I stubbed
my toe, and it kills the pain,' or my favorite, 'it doesn't hurt
anyone.' He decided to ride his prize runner while drunk, fell off,
and broke his fool neck. My thirteen year old cousin found him, still
alive. I tended him with my mother and cousin while he lingered for
days. It certainly hurt my cousin to watch his father die, especially
as he had no living mother to care for him. But drinking like that
doesn't hurt anyone, right?"

Urlene turned and bent, helping L'keri sit up, then reached for the
cup of steaming tea. "Drink this. It'll help with the nausea."

He sipped some, pulled a face at the taste. "I'm sorry about your
cousin." The story of the boy, only a Turn older than Arten, had
struck a nerve and he struggled to conceal it. But it wasn't the same.
"Not much chance of that happening with me, though. Who'd mourn for me
if I was gone?" His mouth twisted. "No one. My wingmates might be sad
for a day or so, but the leaders would be glad to be rid of me, and so
would my son. Not that it matters," he went on, bitterly. "I seem to
keep surviving."

"It was a long time ago. Drink the rest." Urlene watched him,
expression kept carefully neutral. "And you don't want to survive, it
seems. Which is why I'm going to have Olwinna, our mindhealer, come
and speak to you regularly. It's not my specialty, but you clearly
need to speak to someone on a regular basis."

The brownrider nearly choked on his tea. "What?" He stared at her in
dismay. "There's nothing wrong with me! Not like that. I don't need a
mindhealer." Seeing the look in her eyes, he tried a weak smile. "Don't
listen to me, Weyrhealer, I was just feeling ill and sorry for myself. I
wouldn't do anything stupid, not when I have Rhalith to think of." His
stomach turned again and he raised a hand to his mouth with a groan.

"You have been, so she'll see you as soon as the worst of this illness
is over." Urlene was firm, but as he raised his hand to his mouth, she
acted quickly. Scooping up a small pail, pressed it to his hands.
"Better out than in, L'keri."

He wanted to refuse, but instinct overpowered him and he vomited into
the pail, his whole body shuddering. When it was over, he looked up at
her with eyes that had lost all their usual confidence, replaced with
cold fear. L'keri had suffered Threadscore before, but he'd never felt
sickness like this and it terrified him that he didn't know when, or how
it would end.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why can't I just have a drink?" he
pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Is this because of the flirting? I'm sorry.
I'm really, really sorry." He leaned back against the pillow, shivering
as he fought the urge to vomit again. "I'll drink less, I promise. I'll
go on that diet. Please stop."

Urlene held him up as he vomitted, waiting until he was finished before
putting it aside. She poured him a glass of water, pressing it to his
lips. "Rinse your mouth, L'keri and drink." Her voice softened only
slightly, but remained firm. "Do you know how many times I've been
flirted with? That had nothing to do with this. I'm doing this so you
won't die. I won't let you have any more to drink. Not here. Your
records show that you're slowly killing yourself. I don't know the
reason but I know that you're not going to get better without help." She
scooted a chair next to the bed, settling herself in it. "The next few
days are going to be hard and you'll be sick, very sick. I'll stay with
you. I expect you'll curse me, scream at me, and hate me before you get
better. But you _will_ get better. Perhaps when it eases, you will see
things differently. "

The cool water provided a moment's relief and he closed his eyes, his
mind reaching out to Rhalith for his dragon's patient comfort through
the sickness and the throbbing pain in his head. For now, he could think
clearly enough to understand that there was no hope of changing her
mind. He steeled himself and managed a slight grimace of a smile. "I'll
try not to curse too badly, then. Wouldn't want to ruin so charming a
friendship. Not after it started so well."

Her brow quirked upwards. "I won't hold you to that." She smoothed her
hands down her skirts. "The water had fellis in it. Not much, but
enough to ease the pain for you to rest. When your stomach can take it,
I send for some broth." She nodded to his leg. Tomorrow, we'll put the
cast on your leg. The swelling is down enough to allow for it. After a
week, you'll be sitting up and in a wheeled chair. "

"Wonderful. Wheeling around like an old grand-uncle," the brownrider
muttered. Still, anything was better than being stuck in this bed with
no means of escape. He began to feel the effect of the fellis as a
blurring at the edges of his thoughts, dulling the headache though it
did little for his unsettled stomach as yet. "Will I be able to go to
Rhalith?" It had been almost a day now since he'd seen or touched his
dragon, and the separation had begun to unsettle him even though the
brown assured him that he was being taken care of.

"Yes, when you're over the worst." She didnt feel the need to add that
he'd be supervised the entire time. She didn't want him filching
alcohol from a drudge or rider who didn't know not to. He was stressed
enough and more upset would likely cause his stomach to turn again.
"You're not to have any weight on that leg until the cast comes off."

"Yes, yes, I remember. Disaster, despair, walking with a cane for the
rest of my life, and your eternal disapproval." He made a face. "Shards,
I feel like a wrung-out rag. Everything hurts. When I said I wanted a
night with you, Weyrhealer, I didn't mean like this."

One of her pair brows quirked upwards and there was finally a brief,
amused upturn of her lips. "This is all you'll get from me as far as
that's concerned. I do have standards." She reached to place another
cool damp rag on his brow. "You'll ache for a while. It'd be worse
without the fellis."

"That makes me feel so much better," L'keri groused, his voice growing
fainter as he put what strength he could muster into fighting the pain.
"But...sounds like I've got at least a sevenday here...time to win you
over. At least enough to enjoy my company, if nothing else."

"Not a chance." She patted lightly at his brow, dabbing at the sweaty
that breaded there. "What makes you think this is in any way enjoyable
for me? No matter what you might think, I don't enjoy seeing people
sick or in pain. You'll be here for a month and no less. I can, of
course, have your family brought to see you if you like. " Urlene's brow
furrowed. " Instead of talking, why don't you try resting for a while?"

L'keri was silenced, but his thoughts were far from restful. The stab of
guilt hurt almost as badly as his physical injuries as he realized he
had completely forgotten about how this would affect his children. He'd
just been starting to reconcile with Arten after the gift of the
firelizard egg. The last he wanted was for the boy to see him this way.
"My family - I'd like that, but perhaps when I'm better." He hesitated.
"Will you tell them...how it happened?"

Her brows rose as she looked down at him. "No. It's not my place and
you've some right to your privacy. What your Wingleader decides to say
is up to him. But, to be honest, they'll probably figure it out on
their own as you've been drinking as long as you have." Urlene replaced
the drying cloth with another, laying it over his brow lightly. "Do you
need another drink?"

"Faranth's egg, yes." His eyes showed a brief spark of interest, which
quickly faded. "Oh. It's going to be water, isn't it? Well, why not." At
least he'd enjoy the cool touch of her hands.

Her lips curled upwards again. "Yes, it'll be water. When your nausea
gets better, you can have juice or klah. But I'd rather make sure
you're not going to get dehydrated." She rose, paled and swallowed
hard, then shook it off, pouring him a cup of water. "I'm going to sit
you up a little, unless you think you can lean up."

"I can manage." He raised his head, pulling a face as the movement ached
his chest, and gratefully sipped at the water before collapsing back
against the pillow with a groan. "Ugh. This is nearly as bad as the day
after the Weyrlingmaster made me do a hundred push-ups for being
impertinent. None of you high rankers have any sense of... are you all
right?" He frowned. "You look tired. Tell me to shut up if you want. I
can take it."

Urlene waved a hand. "It's nothing. I simply rose too quickly and I'm
tired. I work in the infirmary for long candlemarks and recalcitrant
patients are typical on a daily basis. It tends to be wearying." She set
the cup where he could each it, then sat back down. "L'keri, do shut up
and try to sleep. I'll be here if you feel sick again. "

"Right you are, Weyrhealer, ma'am." L'keri managed a feeble salute,
wincing at the pain in his ribs, then closed his eyes and concentrated
on keeping still so as not to disturb his unsettled stomach.

Last updated on the October 14th 2019

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Withdrawal Begins