A favor returned
Scene: A healer and a goldrider come to pay a visit.
Place: Aivey's Cell
Players: Roa, Rynna (NPC by Imari) and Aivey
Time: Early AM, Day 21
Note this scene took place before this scene
Old Empty Storeroom
Small and rather dusty, this room is just what the name implies. It used to be another storage space for the various odds and ends used by folk regularly enough to warrant its own room. Only problem was it was too far away from most of the residential areas, so it was cleaned out and had a few modifications made to it. For instance, there are no shelves, the rugs and any tapestries have all been removed, and the door locks from the outside. A thick metal ring has been embedded in the wall off in one corner so only half of it juts out, a perfect loop for sturdy rope or a chain. There's one glowbasket up on a wall, but it's empty.
Despite the early hour of the morning, Aivey isn't asleep and doesn't look to be anywhere near it. She is settled on the ground, hands shackled in her lap, head tilting back against the wall. She favors her left side, the fingers of her right hand toy with one of the links in the chain fashioned to both the wall and her cuffs. Little else is happening at the moment.
The door opens and in walks a collection of people. Two guards, the weyrwoman Roa, a harper, and a woman wearing a healer's knot and carrying a bag of supplies. Roa regards the prisoner for a moment before taking a few steps forward. "Good morning, Aivey. I'm afraid I need to have a healer take a look at that side of yours." Well, she's blunt about it, at least.
Rynna is a taciturn woman, about thirty-five, and apparently not pleased to be where she is. Or, maybe it's the fact of /who/ it is she's being asked to treat. Whatever the case, she doesn't smile, and doesn't have what could even remotely be called a pleasant bedside manner. She stands across from the prisoner, and her expression leaves no on in doubt she thinks of Aivey as only that. Something not quite human and beneath contempt. She's silent, merely looking across the cell.
Aivey's attention lifts to the weyrwoman, greeting her first and foremost, "Do you think there's a point to it, Roa?" To confirm such, Aivey looks to the healer, assessing her with a bland regard. The guards are simply ignored. "I don't know if she's told you but I'll be dead before long. What's it matter what state I'm in before then?"
"Well, Aivey, I'm afraid you don't get to choose when or how you die. You're being tried for a very long list of crimes, some of which have been placed on other people." Roa's body is still, hands hanging at her sides. The harper has a pen and pad of hides and is writing down every word spoken. His eyes dart from Aivey to Roa to his notes. "Justice isn't very well served if you're dead before you can be tried."
There is no reply from the healer. Barely any acknowledgment whatsoever, save to the Weyrwoman who brought her here. Rynna's grasp on the leather satchel she carries tightens slightly. "I'll need more light, m'am," is all she says, the words clipped and flat. From the hard expression on Rynna's face, well, it's likely she's the kind of healer who gives them all a bad reputation.
"Justice or vengeance?" Aivey counters, before shifting to the side and lifting her left arm, "I'd apologize about the long list of crimes but I can't really say I'm sorry over them. Most, at least." She switches her attention back to the healer, smiling in what could be considered a friendly way, "Really now, the least you can do is say hello. I promise I'm not as bad as they say I am." Her smile broadens into something a little less friendly. The harper and all his scribbling is still ignored.
"You would know about vengeance more than I," Roa counters quietly. "Now isn't the time for games. Will you make this easy on yourself, or are we going to butt wills?" At the comment about glows, the weyrwoman looks over her shoulder, first at the healer, then towards the guards. She nods once and one of the guards pokes his head out into the hall to give the order. It is only a few minutes before three more lanterns full of fresh glows arrive.
If anything, Rynna's lips tighten into a thinner line. Her nearly black eyes glitter with distaste. "Hello." That's it. Request granted. Then, back to silent regard for the patient. It's clear the healer isn't going one step closer until she has to. Fear? Perhaps. Certainly she doesn't seem to be overly enthused about being in the cell in the first place, her rather patrician nose lifted to sniff the air with an almost audible superior attitude. She seems to feel the additional glows are adequate, since there's a brief nod of her head.
"The games are over, Roa. It's rather pointless at this stage, wouldn't you say?" And while the request for the glows is being fulfilled, Aivey studies Rynna. Where the woman regards her with distaste, Aivey regards her with nothing short of annoyance. "I appreciate what you do, you know. You heal sickness. We're almost alike." Her smile is fleeting, tempering into a more serious expression as she lifts the hem of her shirt to mid-chest level, revealing the wound in question. It most certainly looks anything but healthy; red, bruised and surrounded on one side by dried blood. "It's on my left side. I kept it clean for as long as I could, but I had more important things to worry about."
The little weyrwoman regards the wound and shakes her head slowly. "How did you get it?" she asks. And then, "I am told you will need to be sedated. To sleep. While its seen to. Fellis, I think?" A glance to the healer, brows lifted in query. Was her statement correct.
Even Rynna can't help but look concerned over the wound. "I've heard enough about you to not want to end up dead while I'm trying to heal you." As for what Aivey says, there's another sniff, more like a snort of disbelief. "I'm a healer, young woman, and I'm here to help you, as the Weyrwoman indicated. I'm not a killer." A glance to Roa. "Likely, m'am. From the looks of it, there's probably corruption inside, and I'd hazard a guess infection has already set in. I won't know more until I examine her closer. I'll probably have to open it and drain it. For that, yes, fellis." Cool, flat words. "Is it safe?" Rynna asks, meaning will she be attacked if she gets too close.
"Luren." Aivey says, switching her attention from Rynna to Roa, "Self explanatory, no?" Her features stiffen at the mention of sedation though her tone carries no hint of why. To the healer, she responds crisply, "You and I both kill things... it's just our definition of the disease we're killing that differs." Aivey is on the verge of saying more, but stills to offer a smile at the healers question. Though it's to Roa, she answers for herself. "I have no reason to kill you. Besides, I'm fairly outnumbered and empty handed." Tone suggesting it's quite the shame.
A small sigh from Roa at the banter of words. "Aivey," she begins, her tone almost gentle, "will you accept the fellis and let this get done? Or do I need to have the guards come and hold you down? Your word, please, that you'll behave." The healer is shot a quiet glance and offered a curt shakes off her head. 'Don't respond to that', the terse expression on the weyrwoman's face seems to suggest.
It doesn't take Roa's expression for Aivey's comment about disease to be ignored. "I'll need a table for my tools," she says flatly, looking to the guards. "And a clean cloth or something to put on it to keep them sanitary." Obviously Rynna's of the opinion anything down here will be filthy. "Also, hot water so I can clean her side before I begin." Already the satchel is being lifted, opened, looked in. "Four drops of fellis will put her out enough for me to work." She may be taciturn and cold, but she does know what she's doing. "Once she's out, I'll begin." The 'and not before' isn't said, but strongly implied.
"Our visits, Roa. I would like for them to continue." Aivey says, not pulling her eyes from Rynna. The healer's assessment is listened to and agreed with, however silently, for all that Aivey looks back to Roa, "You'll stay, won't you? At least with you here, I know you'll make sure nothing happens."
There is another order given from one of the guards out into the hall. This request takes a bit longer. Tables are harder to move than glows, but it's perhaps fifteen minutes before the requested items arrive. Roa observes Aivey for a long moment. "I'll stay," she agrees, her voice soft. "And I suppose, as someone should be here to oversee your follow-up visits, if you will behave yourself, I'll arrange it so I'm the one to do that."
Once the table is delivered, Rynna moves to it, setting her satchel atop and pulling out bottles and wickedly gleaming medical instruments. Sharp little scalpels and nasty looking probes, tweezers and cloths. Everything she will need to take care of this wound. "Is there wine or water? I have to dilute the fellis," she asks. "Unless you want me to just give it to her straight. It tastes nasty but works a little faster then when it's diluted." But, everything is in readiness within a few short minutes. "She'll be totally unconscious in a few moments."
Whatever silence Aivey has before Roa speaks is passed with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Come the sound of tables being settled and Roa speaking, Aivey regards the room at large, "As I said, Roa, the games are pointless now. I enjoy our visits..." Predictably she trails off as Rynna's movements catch her attention and all those lovely little sharp things are seen. It takes some effort on her behalf, but Aivey says, "Just give it to me. I've taken it like that before."
The weyrwoman nods once and walks over to Rynna and her table and her pointy things. She holds her hand out for the dose of fellis and, provided it's given, she walks over to Aivey. The guards stiffen, but one dark-haired girl crouches down besides the other. "A favor returned, then," Roa murmurs. If Aivey doesn't protest, the phial of fellis is set to her lips and tipped into her mouth.
The fellis is handed to Roa, the small vial it's placed in uncapped. "Very well," she says, turning back to the patient. "Once she's fully unconscious, I'll need that table closer, unless you want to play helper, Weyrwoman," Rynna says, folding her arms across her chest. Now, we wait, is what her attitude says. "If that dose doesn't work, I can add one more drop, but no more."
Attention set upon Roa, Aivey doesn't see the guards stiffen. She does accept the fellis, swallowing without hesitation and then closing her eyes to rest her head against the wall. "You said something before," Aivey says to Roa, "About my eyes. What-" She dry swallows, makes a small face and then tries again, "What did you mean by it?" The favor is now returned to Rynna, for Aivey ignores her in favor of getting an answer to her question.
There are people in the room. Many other people. And a harper recording ever word that's said. So Roa only shakes her head once. "Tell you when you wake up," the weyrwoman murmurs. She will remain there, crouched, until Aivey has fallen asleep.
Rynna watches the dosage being administered, then turns, washing her hands and drying them thoroughly before she even thinks about beginning. By the book. No room for diversion with this woman. Everything's ready. All she apparently needs now is an unconscious patient. But, Aivey is chained to the floor. "Is there another table? It won't be easy working on her if she's on the floor, and it won't do any good to heal her if she's just going to lie there in the dust afterwards. A cot? something?"
Aivey tries very, very hard to show Roa how disappointed she is by the denial to her polite request but her facial muscles just won't cooperate. It's an eerie deja-vous that doesn't have long to settle. She swallows again, struggling to keep her eyes open to watch the movements of those around her, but even that begins to fail as her eyes slowly and finally slip shut. The grip around her middle slackens, her hands slide free to rest within her lap. Once more, Aivey is out for the count.
The weyrwoman studies Aivey as she droops, waiting a few beats before speaking. "We'll have a cot brought in. You can move the table and the medical supplies closer now. I'll ask, Journeyman, that you explain everything that you're doing so it can be recorded. I'd also like a copy of any case notes you make so they can be added to the files for her trial." Roa stands and slowly backs away from the girl. "Shackles and cuffs remain on."
"Of course, Weyrwoman," Rynna replies, noting the unconscious prisoner. "As soon as a cot is brought in, I'll begin by examining the wound, determining the extent of the infection. With any luck, it is not advanced too far, and we can stop it. From the looks of it, I'll need to reopen the wound, letting it drain. Then I'll clean it with redwort, probably pack it with willow powder, re-stitch it and then place a clean bandage on it. It is imperative the bandages and anything that comes in contact with the wound be clean. Otherwise --" Rynna doesn't bother finishing. She looks around as the guards -- not very happy guards, either, mind you -- maneuver a cot into the cell. "Place her on the cot," she says, moving closer now it's safe.
The guards move to do so, handling the unconscious prisoner carefully. After they've done so, Roa adds her own request. "We'll need the rest of the room cleaned while the healer works. Floors and wall must be sterilized." There is some rolling of eyes, once the guards are turned away from Roa, as yet -more- things are sent for. Girls. Can't they just organize a single list? But a broom and a mop and a big pail or redwort arrive. The harper continues to scribble away.
Rynna is anything if not efficient. There's a minimum of muss and fuss while she examines the wound, probing at it with her fingers, laying the back of her hand on the skin to test for fever. "You may be in luck, Weyrwoman," she says in that clipped tone. "I do not believe the wound has gone systemic, though it is infected." She even comments on the stitching. "And she apparently took care of this herself?" This seems to surprise her somewhat, as she goes about cleaning first the area around the red line of the wound, then pressing more on the darkest areas. "There is some corruption, so opening the wound will be necessary." She describes each step of what she does clearly and slow enough the Harper can copy down her words with ease. The final step before opening is to apply numbweed to deaden even the final vestiges of sensation on the patient.
Roa watches in silence, her eyes holding to the work being done. There is no flinching or wincing. Being a dragonhealer, perhaps the weyrwoman has seen her own share of heinous injuries. She nods as the healer speaks, only noting, "Do what you need to, Journeyman." The two guards allow another two in and they begin sweeping and moping from floor to ceiling, cleaning and sterilizing the room as the healer cleans Aivey's wound.
"Clean clothes and a bath wouldn't hurt her, either," Rynna says, her nostrils flaring as she picks up a scalpel, making certain it is sterilized before she begins. Once the incision is made, there is the odor of infection in the room, not strong as it might be, but certainly present. "The smallest bowl, if you please, Weyrwoman?" she requests, working at the incision she made with her fingers. A bloody, discolored secretion is easily noticeable now, as the infected wound is drained. It's not pleasant, and, perhaps, the Weyrwoman goes up a notch in Rynna's estimation as she doesn't flinch or wince.
The smallest bowl is picked up and handed over to the healer without a word. "Yes to the clothes. I cannot risk hauling a tub in here or walking her to the baths. So, I'm araid that second is not an option." Roa studies the opening wound with an impassive eye. "It's about what you expected?" Her gaze flicks to Aivey's face. Checking, perhaps irrationally, that the fellis really is keeping her under and oblivious.
Aivey is as unresponsive as ever. No facial ticks, no murmured words. Complete stillness, complete cooperation. Enjoy it while it lasts, ladies.
"Better, actually, m'am," Rynna says, nodding as she moves to another inflamed place on the wound, opening it and slowly draining it of discolored bloody pus. "It's not gone systemic, nor is it begun purification. I was afraid of gangrene or other secondary infections. She's lucky." Once more Rynna opens the wound and drains it, then she cleans off the secretions. "A bucket, soap and cloth should suffice," she says in regards to bathing. "Provided she's made to understand her life depends upon keeping this clean until it heals properly. Now she's explaining how she's going to open the wound fully, clean it out with redwort and pack it with willow powder. "I think that will take care of it, but it will need to be dressed frequently. I'd hazard a guess and say she should see a healer at least once a day for a seven, then as needed when we see how it progresses."
"I'll arrange it," Roa says with a nod. "The follow ups. And convincing her to stay clean enough that she doesn't reinfect the wound." The guards finish cleaning and the extra two depart with bucket, mop, and broom. "Can you keep watch for a few hours? There's something I need to see to, once you're finished, and then I'll be back."
"As long as there are guards in the room when she comes out of it, yes," Rynna replies to the request. She quickly accomplishes what she came to do, and within half-an-hour, the wound is being stitched closed, the healer's work far neater than Aivey's. "Remarkable. Self-treatment is not something I recommend," and there is grudging -- /very/ grudging, mind you -- admiration in the words. "That should do. Cleanliness is mandatory if she's to heal properly. All the instruments are removed from the immediate area, the healer even going so far as to run her hands along the bed and beneath Aivey's body to see if anything dropped accidentally. "I'm done, m'am. I recommend regular doses of willow powder to prevent further infection, and numbweed for the wound itself. Fellis ... only if she is in extreme pain."
"Thank you for your assistance, Journeyman. I'll be back as soon as I can. Certainly, before she wakes. The guards will remain in here with you." Roa takes in the rest of the instructions with a nod and then says to the Harper, "I think we're through here?" "Ma'am," he murmurs before departing. Roa follows soon after, and it is perhaps four hours before she's back again to take the healer's place.
"Very well, m'am," Rynna replies, gesturing for the guards to remove the table and all the instruments from the cell. "If I might request a chair...?" She adds, her demeanor as crisp and cool as ever. "I'm not on duty until later this afternoon, so I can remain until then," she says, nodding respectfully to the Weyrwoman. "She should come out of it in about 8-9 hours." And then she is moving away from Aivey and not looking at her anymore until she gets her chair -- which will be placed as far across the cell as possible from her patient. She was asked to watch, after all, but no one said from how far away.
Place: Aivey's Cell
Players: Roa, Rynna (NPC by Imari) and Aivey
Time: Early AM, Day 21
Note this scene took place before this scene
Old Empty Storeroom
Small and rather dusty, this room is just what the name implies. It used to be another storage space for the various odds and ends used by folk regularly enough to warrant its own room. Only problem was it was too far away from most of the residential areas, so it was cleaned out and had a few modifications made to it. For instance, there are no shelves, the rugs and any tapestries have all been removed, and the door locks from the outside. A thick metal ring has been embedded in the wall off in one corner so only half of it juts out, a perfect loop for sturdy rope or a chain. There's one glowbasket up on a wall, but it's empty.
Despite the early hour of the morning, Aivey isn't asleep and doesn't look to be anywhere near it. She is settled on the ground, hands shackled in her lap, head tilting back against the wall. She favors her left side, the fingers of her right hand toy with one of the links in the chain fashioned to both the wall and her cuffs. Little else is happening at the moment.
The door opens and in walks a collection of people. Two guards, the weyrwoman Roa, a harper, and a woman wearing a healer's knot and carrying a bag of supplies. Roa regards the prisoner for a moment before taking a few steps forward. "Good morning, Aivey. I'm afraid I need to have a healer take a look at that side of yours." Well, she's blunt about it, at least.
Rynna is a taciturn woman, about thirty-five, and apparently not pleased to be where she is. Or, maybe it's the fact of /who/ it is she's being asked to treat. Whatever the case, she doesn't smile, and doesn't have what could even remotely be called a pleasant bedside manner. She stands across from the prisoner, and her expression leaves no on in doubt she thinks of Aivey as only that. Something not quite human and beneath contempt. She's silent, merely looking across the cell.
Aivey's attention lifts to the weyrwoman, greeting her first and foremost, "Do you think there's a point to it, Roa?" To confirm such, Aivey looks to the healer, assessing her with a bland regard. The guards are simply ignored. "I don't know if she's told you but I'll be dead before long. What's it matter what state I'm in before then?"
"Well, Aivey, I'm afraid you don't get to choose when or how you die. You're being tried for a very long list of crimes, some of which have been placed on other people." Roa's body is still, hands hanging at her sides. The harper has a pen and pad of hides and is writing down every word spoken. His eyes dart from Aivey to Roa to his notes. "Justice isn't very well served if you're dead before you can be tried."
There is no reply from the healer. Barely any acknowledgment whatsoever, save to the Weyrwoman who brought her here. Rynna's grasp on the leather satchel she carries tightens slightly. "I'll need more light, m'am," is all she says, the words clipped and flat. From the hard expression on Rynna's face, well, it's likely she's the kind of healer who gives them all a bad reputation.
"Justice or vengeance?" Aivey counters, before shifting to the side and lifting her left arm, "I'd apologize about the long list of crimes but I can't really say I'm sorry over them. Most, at least." She switches her attention back to the healer, smiling in what could be considered a friendly way, "Really now, the least you can do is say hello. I promise I'm not as bad as they say I am." Her smile broadens into something a little less friendly. The harper and all his scribbling is still ignored.
"You would know about vengeance more than I," Roa counters quietly. "Now isn't the time for games. Will you make this easy on yourself, or are we going to butt wills?" At the comment about glows, the weyrwoman looks over her shoulder, first at the healer, then towards the guards. She nods once and one of the guards pokes his head out into the hall to give the order. It is only a few minutes before three more lanterns full of fresh glows arrive.
If anything, Rynna's lips tighten into a thinner line. Her nearly black eyes glitter with distaste. "Hello." That's it. Request granted. Then, back to silent regard for the patient. It's clear the healer isn't going one step closer until she has to. Fear? Perhaps. Certainly she doesn't seem to be overly enthused about being in the cell in the first place, her rather patrician nose lifted to sniff the air with an almost audible superior attitude. She seems to feel the additional glows are adequate, since there's a brief nod of her head.
"The games are over, Roa. It's rather pointless at this stage, wouldn't you say?" And while the request for the glows is being fulfilled, Aivey studies Rynna. Where the woman regards her with distaste, Aivey regards her with nothing short of annoyance. "I appreciate what you do, you know. You heal sickness. We're almost alike." Her smile is fleeting, tempering into a more serious expression as she lifts the hem of her shirt to mid-chest level, revealing the wound in question. It most certainly looks anything but healthy; red, bruised and surrounded on one side by dried blood. "It's on my left side. I kept it clean for as long as I could, but I had more important things to worry about."
The little weyrwoman regards the wound and shakes her head slowly. "How did you get it?" she asks. And then, "I am told you will need to be sedated. To sleep. While its seen to. Fellis, I think?" A glance to the healer, brows lifted in query. Was her statement correct.
Even Rynna can't help but look concerned over the wound. "I've heard enough about you to not want to end up dead while I'm trying to heal you." As for what Aivey says, there's another sniff, more like a snort of disbelief. "I'm a healer, young woman, and I'm here to help you, as the Weyrwoman indicated. I'm not a killer." A glance to Roa. "Likely, m'am. From the looks of it, there's probably corruption inside, and I'd hazard a guess infection has already set in. I won't know more until I examine her closer. I'll probably have to open it and drain it. For that, yes, fellis." Cool, flat words. "Is it safe?" Rynna asks, meaning will she be attacked if she gets too close.
"Luren." Aivey says, switching her attention from Rynna to Roa, "Self explanatory, no?" Her features stiffen at the mention of sedation though her tone carries no hint of why. To the healer, she responds crisply, "You and I both kill things... it's just our definition of the disease we're killing that differs." Aivey is on the verge of saying more, but stills to offer a smile at the healers question. Though it's to Roa, she answers for herself. "I have no reason to kill you. Besides, I'm fairly outnumbered and empty handed." Tone suggesting it's quite the shame.
A small sigh from Roa at the banter of words. "Aivey," she begins, her tone almost gentle, "will you accept the fellis and let this get done? Or do I need to have the guards come and hold you down? Your word, please, that you'll behave." The healer is shot a quiet glance and offered a curt shakes off her head. 'Don't respond to that', the terse expression on the weyrwoman's face seems to suggest.
It doesn't take Roa's expression for Aivey's comment about disease to be ignored. "I'll need a table for my tools," she says flatly, looking to the guards. "And a clean cloth or something to put on it to keep them sanitary." Obviously Rynna's of the opinion anything down here will be filthy. "Also, hot water so I can clean her side before I begin." Already the satchel is being lifted, opened, looked in. "Four drops of fellis will put her out enough for me to work." She may be taciturn and cold, but she does know what she's doing. "Once she's out, I'll begin." The 'and not before' isn't said, but strongly implied.
"Our visits, Roa. I would like for them to continue." Aivey says, not pulling her eyes from Rynna. The healer's assessment is listened to and agreed with, however silently, for all that Aivey looks back to Roa, "You'll stay, won't you? At least with you here, I know you'll make sure nothing happens."
There is another order given from one of the guards out into the hall. This request takes a bit longer. Tables are harder to move than glows, but it's perhaps fifteen minutes before the requested items arrive. Roa observes Aivey for a long moment. "I'll stay," she agrees, her voice soft. "And I suppose, as someone should be here to oversee your follow-up visits, if you will behave yourself, I'll arrange it so I'm the one to do that."
Once the table is delivered, Rynna moves to it, setting her satchel atop and pulling out bottles and wickedly gleaming medical instruments. Sharp little scalpels and nasty looking probes, tweezers and cloths. Everything she will need to take care of this wound. "Is there wine or water? I have to dilute the fellis," she asks. "Unless you want me to just give it to her straight. It tastes nasty but works a little faster then when it's diluted." But, everything is in readiness within a few short minutes. "She'll be totally unconscious in a few moments."
Whatever silence Aivey has before Roa speaks is passed with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Come the sound of tables being settled and Roa speaking, Aivey regards the room at large, "As I said, Roa, the games are pointless now. I enjoy our visits..." Predictably she trails off as Rynna's movements catch her attention and all those lovely little sharp things are seen. It takes some effort on her behalf, but Aivey says, "Just give it to me. I've taken it like that before."
The weyrwoman nods once and walks over to Rynna and her table and her pointy things. She holds her hand out for the dose of fellis and, provided it's given, she walks over to Aivey. The guards stiffen, but one dark-haired girl crouches down besides the other. "A favor returned, then," Roa murmurs. If Aivey doesn't protest, the phial of fellis is set to her lips and tipped into her mouth.
The fellis is handed to Roa, the small vial it's placed in uncapped. "Very well," she says, turning back to the patient. "Once she's fully unconscious, I'll need that table closer, unless you want to play helper, Weyrwoman," Rynna says, folding her arms across her chest. Now, we wait, is what her attitude says. "If that dose doesn't work, I can add one more drop, but no more."
Attention set upon Roa, Aivey doesn't see the guards stiffen. She does accept the fellis, swallowing without hesitation and then closing her eyes to rest her head against the wall. "You said something before," Aivey says to Roa, "About my eyes. What-" She dry swallows, makes a small face and then tries again, "What did you mean by it?" The favor is now returned to Rynna, for Aivey ignores her in favor of getting an answer to her question.
There are people in the room. Many other people. And a harper recording ever word that's said. So Roa only shakes her head once. "Tell you when you wake up," the weyrwoman murmurs. She will remain there, crouched, until Aivey has fallen asleep.
Rynna watches the dosage being administered, then turns, washing her hands and drying them thoroughly before she even thinks about beginning. By the book. No room for diversion with this woman. Everything's ready. All she apparently needs now is an unconscious patient. But, Aivey is chained to the floor. "Is there another table? It won't be easy working on her if she's on the floor, and it won't do any good to heal her if she's just going to lie there in the dust afterwards. A cot? something?"
Aivey tries very, very hard to show Roa how disappointed she is by the denial to her polite request but her facial muscles just won't cooperate. It's an eerie deja-vous that doesn't have long to settle. She swallows again, struggling to keep her eyes open to watch the movements of those around her, but even that begins to fail as her eyes slowly and finally slip shut. The grip around her middle slackens, her hands slide free to rest within her lap. Once more, Aivey is out for the count.
The weyrwoman studies Aivey as she droops, waiting a few beats before speaking. "We'll have a cot brought in. You can move the table and the medical supplies closer now. I'll ask, Journeyman, that you explain everything that you're doing so it can be recorded. I'd also like a copy of any case notes you make so they can be added to the files for her trial." Roa stands and slowly backs away from the girl. "Shackles and cuffs remain on."
"Of course, Weyrwoman," Rynna replies, noting the unconscious prisoner. "As soon as a cot is brought in, I'll begin by examining the wound, determining the extent of the infection. With any luck, it is not advanced too far, and we can stop it. From the looks of it, I'll need to reopen the wound, letting it drain. Then I'll clean it with redwort, probably pack it with willow powder, re-stitch it and then place a clean bandage on it. It is imperative the bandages and anything that comes in contact with the wound be clean. Otherwise --" Rynna doesn't bother finishing. She looks around as the guards -- not very happy guards, either, mind you -- maneuver a cot into the cell. "Place her on the cot," she says, moving closer now it's safe.
The guards move to do so, handling the unconscious prisoner carefully. After they've done so, Roa adds her own request. "We'll need the rest of the room cleaned while the healer works. Floors and wall must be sterilized." There is some rolling of eyes, once the guards are turned away from Roa, as yet -more- things are sent for. Girls. Can't they just organize a single list? But a broom and a mop and a big pail or redwort arrive. The harper continues to scribble away.
Rynna is anything if not efficient. There's a minimum of muss and fuss while she examines the wound, probing at it with her fingers, laying the back of her hand on the skin to test for fever. "You may be in luck, Weyrwoman," she says in that clipped tone. "I do not believe the wound has gone systemic, though it is infected." She even comments on the stitching. "And she apparently took care of this herself?" This seems to surprise her somewhat, as she goes about cleaning first the area around the red line of the wound, then pressing more on the darkest areas. "There is some corruption, so opening the wound will be necessary." She describes each step of what she does clearly and slow enough the Harper can copy down her words with ease. The final step before opening is to apply numbweed to deaden even the final vestiges of sensation on the patient.
Roa watches in silence, her eyes holding to the work being done. There is no flinching or wincing. Being a dragonhealer, perhaps the weyrwoman has seen her own share of heinous injuries. She nods as the healer speaks, only noting, "Do what you need to, Journeyman." The two guards allow another two in and they begin sweeping and moping from floor to ceiling, cleaning and sterilizing the room as the healer cleans Aivey's wound.
"Clean clothes and a bath wouldn't hurt her, either," Rynna says, her nostrils flaring as she picks up a scalpel, making certain it is sterilized before she begins. Once the incision is made, there is the odor of infection in the room, not strong as it might be, but certainly present. "The smallest bowl, if you please, Weyrwoman?" she requests, working at the incision she made with her fingers. A bloody, discolored secretion is easily noticeable now, as the infected wound is drained. It's not pleasant, and, perhaps, the Weyrwoman goes up a notch in Rynna's estimation as she doesn't flinch or wince.
The smallest bowl is picked up and handed over to the healer without a word. "Yes to the clothes. I cannot risk hauling a tub in here or walking her to the baths. So, I'm araid that second is not an option." Roa studies the opening wound with an impassive eye. "It's about what you expected?" Her gaze flicks to Aivey's face. Checking, perhaps irrationally, that the fellis really is keeping her under and oblivious.
Aivey is as unresponsive as ever. No facial ticks, no murmured words. Complete stillness, complete cooperation. Enjoy it while it lasts, ladies.
"Better, actually, m'am," Rynna says, nodding as she moves to another inflamed place on the wound, opening it and slowly draining it of discolored bloody pus. "It's not gone systemic, nor is it begun purification. I was afraid of gangrene or other secondary infections. She's lucky." Once more Rynna opens the wound and drains it, then she cleans off the secretions. "A bucket, soap and cloth should suffice," she says in regards to bathing. "Provided she's made to understand her life depends upon keeping this clean until it heals properly. Now she's explaining how she's going to open the wound fully, clean it out with redwort and pack it with willow powder. "I think that will take care of it, but it will need to be dressed frequently. I'd hazard a guess and say she should see a healer at least once a day for a seven, then as needed when we see how it progresses."
"I'll arrange it," Roa says with a nod. "The follow ups. And convincing her to stay clean enough that she doesn't reinfect the wound." The guards finish cleaning and the extra two depart with bucket, mop, and broom. "Can you keep watch for a few hours? There's something I need to see to, once you're finished, and then I'll be back."
"As long as there are guards in the room when she comes out of it, yes," Rynna replies to the request. She quickly accomplishes what she came to do, and within half-an-hour, the wound is being stitched closed, the healer's work far neater than Aivey's. "Remarkable. Self-treatment is not something I recommend," and there is grudging -- /very/ grudging, mind you -- admiration in the words. "That should do. Cleanliness is mandatory if she's to heal properly. All the instruments are removed from the immediate area, the healer even going so far as to run her hands along the bed and beneath Aivey's body to see if anything dropped accidentally. "I'm done, m'am. I recommend regular doses of willow powder to prevent further infection, and numbweed for the wound itself. Fellis ... only if she is in extreme pain."
"Thank you for your assistance, Journeyman. I'll be back as soon as I can. Certainly, before she wakes. The guards will remain in here with you." Roa takes in the rest of the instructions with a nod and then says to the Harper, "I think we're through here?" "Ma'am," he murmurs before departing. Roa follows soon after, and it is perhaps four hours before she's back again to take the healer's place.
"Very well, m'am," Rynna replies, gesturing for the guards to remove the table and all the instruments from the cell. "If I might request a chair...?" She adds, her demeanor as crisp and cool as ever. "I'm not on duty until later this afternoon, so I can remain until then," she says, nodding respectfully to the Weyrwoman. "She should come out of it in about 8-9 hours." And then she is moving away from Aivey and not looking at her anymore until she gets her chair -- which will be placed as far across the cell as possible from her patient. She was asked to watch, after all, but no one said from how far away.