Sh'vel ran his tongue over his bleeding, empty gums. Some teeth were there, enough to make his words whistle, a fun little spin to the agony he had to verbalize. To wail. He didn't think his grin would be making much of an appearance soon. Not that he wanted to… his face hurt like hell. He declined a glass for his reflection the first few times. He didn't need to see, he knew from the piteous look on the healers face. From his good hand, he knew under those bandages were chunks of him missing.

Sh'vel was toast. Burnt bread like he would accidentally leave in the ovens too long. Twisting in the fires for too long. Skin bubbled, turned to rot. Other spots healing shiny. His chest a rorscach of thread score and dragon fire. Painful. Miserable. Always these healers making him move. To rid the smoke and ash from deep within his lungs, to keep scars from turning rigid. His right arm was little more than a twisted mess tucked to his chest with a sling.

Would it need to come off? Only the healer knows, and he hated how much he couldn't be told. Healing wasn't linear, but it was so frustrating to not know what to anticipate. Sh'vel hated how much he couldn't remember between things for pain and being dosed to get more rest.

His little green was unrecognizable, her hide more covered in scar than green.Limply, her one remaining wing fluttered on her back. Dead. It didn't need removed as the other had, but it wasn't doing much of anything else. Supported in place by splint and bandage, perhaps it would heal enough to stay in place. Perhaps it wouldn't and Misuth would wake the Weyr with her keening again. Mourning her flying, her freedom.

A useless dragon of Pern. Broken. Misuth had called herself, in her panic spiral downwards. His little darling had been right. Both of them were broken. Some of their pieces too much to be put back together.

She took no apologies from Caironairth. Misuth's delicate pride would never think an apology is warranted. They are...were... the great flying beasts of Pern. He had not put his flame where he anticipated another. Where she had be fleeing from an enormous swatch of thread. In fact she had accidentally flamed another. Dropped another from the sky. With sympathy she understood and shared his guilt. He could keep the apology, as Slistalth had waved away hers.

Sh'vel had taken Wa'ren's apology with good grace, anything to help slide that guilt ridden look off of his face. "Now knock that off. Are you gonna look like that every time you see me? Lots of us are gonna get chewed up before the next lull from thread. It could be you next time, its any of us. It was just me this time." Sh'vel had shook the brown rider's hand with his one good one. "Toast the little bastards enough for me next time and get me a bottle of something strong and I say it's even."

What Sh'vel really wanted though… was his own bed. It was so empty in this ground weyr. He used think he wanted the space, being so stacked ontop of all the weyrlings. Now he would give anything for their endless chatter. The silence was deafening. His things filled the room he slept, but it felt like he was staying in a stranger's home.