It was a peaceful spring evening, and green plants were poking their shoots into the Weyrbowl, promising warmer weather to come.

Tsuchi entered her simple rooms, glancing around them briefly. Her eyes rested on a cup of juice she'd left just a moment ago to attend to a dragon who'd come in just after she left. The silverrider who'd gone with the creature refused to let anyone less than the Weyrhealer attend his wounded friend. Her warmer coat, antidote safely tucked in its pocket, was resting on her chair, having been left as she rushed to what she'd thought was an emergency. Tsuchi tossed a piece of wood on the fire and sat in the chair next to it, waiting for the food she had asked to be brought to her rooms.

A quiet tapping marked the arrival of the drudge, a young lass with dirty blonde hair and an unremarkable face. Tsuchi invited her in to set the tray down, and then found herself reluctant to be alone.

In the end, the two of them shared the meal and a conversation, which probably seemed strange to the young girl, who was most likely used to mostly being ignored. After Tsuchi waved the girl away, she turned back to her room, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Spotting the cup of fruit juice she had been forgotten about during the conversation, she drained the last of it and changed into sleeping clothes, looking forward to getting some rest.

Tsuchi drifted towards sleep that night with her stomach cramping, wondering if something in the food had disagreed with her and hoping it would pass before morning.

Then she found it hard- almost impossible to breath. She sat up, thumping her chest, fear chilling her veins. The dark room spun even as she sat, threatening to blur out of focus altogether. Her heart pounded frantically, and she tried to calm herself down with little success.

Recognizing the all too familiar symptoms, Tsuchi tried to stand so she could find the antidote she'd kept in her coat, but her hands seemed thick and clumsy, and she soon discovered couldn't really move her body well anymore.

The dragonhealer lunged out of bed, trying to reach her chair, but her crippled leg collapsed beneath her, leaving her on the floor, weak and exhausted. Tsuchi's vision nearly faded out, her mind too bewildered to think of anything in particular, except that it didn't seem fair to die like a dragonrider when she hadn't seen her lifemate in many, many Turns.

She managed to get to the chair, reaching for her coat. Sheer determination pushed her to drag the coat to the floor, fingers groping in the pocket she knew had to have the antidote in it. Her fingers found only the linings of her pockets. Fear racing through her, Tsuchi's head fell to the ground, her determination leaching away. She lost grip on the world around her, feeling as if she were evaporating, like mist in the sunlight.

Not long after, her breathing stopped, the whole affair having caused very little fuss to anyone beside sTsuchi.

The next morning, a dragonhealer approached the Weyrhealer's rooms, calling her name. Tsuchi was rarely late for her duties, and it was nearly midday. Predictably, the word spread within a couple of hours from healer to cook, and from cook to everyone else that the Weyrhealer had been found dead in her rooms. She'd been poisoned, and no one in the gossip chain could decide if it was her past as a dragonrider or her current position as dragonhealer that had made her the latest casualty.

"It's strange," someone remarked, "But I remember thinking that last night seemed really peaceful. Just goes to show you can't trust appearances around here."

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(This is soon after the dragonhealer finds Tsuchi, before word has gotten very far)

C'nic paused on his way to the dragonhealer's rooms. A cluster of people was gathering around the entrance to the sleeping area. It didn't look like good news- several people were crying, and several more appeared to be on the verge of panic.

He moved through the crowd, picking up the general story, and trying to soothe the more frightened people, even as he contained his own shock and dismay. Zrigmath, awakened by the emotions struggling in C'nic's mind, crooned sadly, both for his rider's pain, and the loss of one who had once been bonded to a dragon.

Realizing that he was among the higher ranked of the people gathered, C'nic sent somebody to inform the Weyrleaders. He wondered how the fledgling Weyrwoman would handle the news when it came to her, remembering her reaction to the loss of Freya.

Mine! The hurried call of the Queen dragon brought Lanae out of a thick thought-circle of concetration, and she slipped back into consciousness with almost a haze of sleep around her, her mind quickly moving to the one she called a lifemate.
No, Feyth, please tell me it isn't time! Still the weyrwoman-in-waiting had no idea what the feeling of Flightlust might do to her, and she felt a sarcastic, if still indignant huff rather than heard it. She shook herself back to reality.

No. You will know at that moment. There has been another death. You have been called for. Dragonhealer Tsuchi has been killed by Yuppa poison. Zrigmath alerted the dragons. Go. Lanae had, in her spiel gotten to her feet, but found herself nearly crumbling at the realisation that she had once more failed as a weyrwoman. Not only were her precious riders suffering death, but now her healers too. She would call Corissa before the day was through, bring the woman up to speed and have Tsuchi's body examined. All in due time.

For now, she allowed herself to be the woman that she was. The woman who was mourning the death of someone she considered somewhat of a friend. Without thinking, Lanae stiffened herself and stood once again, rushing through the halls as toward the well-known dragonhealer's weyrs. Clad in a loose skirt and an almost-open shirt, her bare feet slapped the stone as she rounded the corner to where the group had gathered.

Long black curls were recognisable enough to most for the crowd to thin a little at her emergence from the council chambers, and she pushed through and spied C'nic, the rider of the silver that had allowed her to be informed. The much shorter woman felt a sense of relief wash over her as she stepped up to his side a long sigh slipping through her lips.
"Thank you for sending for me, C'nic," Her voice was weary as she reached out to touch his arms, attempting a smile.

Her eyes blinked back tears for a few moments, and managed to turn to the crowd of people who were crying, panicing and causing general disarray.
"Masterhealer Corissa will join us momentarily. We do not want onlookers or mourners until we are certain of the cause of dragonhealer Tsuchi's passing. Please leave."

And it was as the last weeping woman left, Lanae felt herself crumble to her knees, dismay and horror making lines of sadness on her face. This time, the ability to bite back tears eluded her, and she began to weep. If C'nic had ever had time to doubt her strength, this would be that time. She knew she should be up and ordering people about, letting them see that this was not the end, but in the presence of a silverrider, where they all saw her desperate pleas for help running the weyr in such a dismal time, she could no longer maintain the facade.

C'nic watched Lanae as the crowd dispersed. Despite the fact that he was obviously not her closest of confidants, he'd had a feeling that the young Weyrwoman would not be able to stand alone for long. He had wondered if Lanae hadn't been talking to S'val about her biggest worries. After all, no one would expect Lanae to end up in S'val's weyr. Furthermore, any slander spread by such a man would be subject to immediate deprecation. There were, after all, better sources for dirt on Lanae's underpants.

All satire aside, it was safe to say that C'nic was not in the least surprised when the emotional floodgate broke. Ever the calm, collected silverrider, C'nic said nothing. At risk of looking affectionate, C'nic wrapped his arms around Lanae. Call me callous, he told Zrigmath. But I still can't help but hope that Angel doesn't see this and get the wrong impression.

Zrigmath snorted derisively, stretched out impassively on their weyrledge. You should give that girl more credit. She would not be in your heart if such a thing were possible. You are cold to your kind, and you don't need me to tell you that, Zrig said, twitching one wing somewhat irritably. Zrig hated it when C'nic woke him up for trivialities such as this. Feeling properly chastised, C'nic sighed, wondering why Lanae thought she had to lead the Weyr alone.

Mine, Feyth's.

And just like that, there was a note of command in the Snow's already determined tones. Just like that, there was a note of panic in her voice as she turned her whirling gaze on her rider just in time to see the dark-haired woman turn sharply from the room, belt-knife shoved in its sheath as she walked. If there were people in her way, Faith didn't see them as she darted around them, her boots clicking sharply against the cold stone floors. All it had taken was one word, and her chest was seizing with panic as she walked, not needing the directions her dragon gave her to find the weyr. Tsuchi she knew about, but surely no one would attack Lanae as well.

Please, T'lore. Don't take her away too.

Shoving one person aside as she squeezed into the room, Faith instantly let out a soft sigh of relief as she saw the rise of Lanae's shoulders with breath. She was upset, but she wasn't dead. All at once, she could see the strain these times were putting on her best friend. C'nic was bent over her, but Faith made no move to get to Lanae, her blue-green eyes sweeping the room in a moment before turning to face the small crowd still gathered.
"Are you lot deaf? Your Weyrwoman gave you an order. Get out!" Faith was well known for her temper, and being bonded to Arianth had only encouraged the strength of will and determination she had. It also hadn't really helped the volatile temper, and her eyes flashed with anger as she pointed to the open door.
"Out, or I throw you out." That done, she turned back to her best friend and sister in all but blood.

"Oh Lanae, why didn't you just call?" She murmured, crouching down beside her friend and reaching out one hand to gently rest against her cheek. Anger drained, Faith's eyes flickered up to C'nic's face, a softer smile gracing her features as she nodded slightly.
"Thank you for calling her C'nic. Were you the one who found Tsuchi? Can you tell me everything you know, I think Lanae needs a moment."

Lanae-Not-Mine. We are here, you don't have to stand alone. We are always here.

If anyone had asked Faith in that moment if she doubted Lanae, the most they would have gotten would have been a glare and possibly a cold shoulder. There was nothing to doubt, aside from that Lanae hadn't had the proper training. These were dark times, and no matter what anyone said, Lanae was standing as strong as she possibly could. She just needed to stop trying to do it alone, Faith may have only been a Snow-rider, but they were the pillars of the Weyr. She was supposed to help her Weyrwoman -- and her friend.
"Silly girl, what do you think I'm here for." She murmured, bending forward to press a kiss to Lanae's forehead before pulling away and looking around the room sadly. Unfortunately, she had no time to crumple, this was her time to help Lanae to her feet.
"Corissa has been called? Good, well what do you know... Sir?"

C'nic sighed with relief as Faith finally managed to drive the crowd of onlookers away. To be honest, he was feeling stretched thin himself. Some tired, bewildered part of him cursed Tsuchi for not having an antidote within easy reach. It also cursed the shadow-cloaked killer, the dragonhealers in the rooms next to Tsuchi, and for some reason, himself.

He needed sleep. He glanced at Tsuchi's body. Her eyes were closed- he hoped that she'd been found that way. If someone had disturbed the room, then it would be all the harder to know what had transpired. C'nic focused on Faith, surprised at how quickly his thoughts were slipping into confusion. C'nic couldn't afford to lose composure, especially now.

"Not much. The Weyrhealer didn't arrive for her shift this morning. From what I've been told, a dragonhealer came to wake her and found her like this. The last time she was seen was last night, tending S'nol's Koloth. One of the healers saw her order dinner, but after that..." C'nic sighed. "I'm afraid that's known only by the drudge who brought her dinner. I can't say who that might've been. One of the cooks might know, if they knew who the dinner was going to."

C'nic kept his arms around Lanae, settling himself into a more comfortable position. His tired gaze scanned the room, noting the remains of the meal and an empty cup. Tsuchi's stiff hands were curled around her jacket. "Obviously, her antidote was either stolen or misplaced; she didn't get very far before collapsing. Perhaps a stronger dose than normal was used?"