[Log] Class Canceled
Who: Evelie, Lyliasha, Reighley
When: Day 21, Month 1, Turn 9
Where: Infirmary, Healer Hall
What: Reighley arrives at the Healer Hall for her first class, only to find it's canceled.
Infirmary - Healer Hall
Brightly lit and cheery, this room has several couches near the entrance. Games of all sorts, along with fresh fruits and water, have been left here to help those visiting patients pass the time.
At the eastern end of the room is a fireplace with a pot of fresh water ready to be heated. A long counter nearby is perfect for preparing medicines.
The rest of the room is sectioned off by curtains, to provide private areas for patients to rest or be examined. The private areas seem unusually large, at first, until you realize they were made that way on purpose, so groups of Healers can visit any patient and learn from the patient's condition and treatment.
The smell of fresh herbs drifts through this room, and it appears to be kept very clean.
Contents:
Lyliasha
Digna
Infirmary Records
Obvious exits:
Pharmacy Main Hallway
Lyliasha
Mousy blonde-brown hair, pulled back in a severe bun. Deep blue eyes, perpetually downcast. Pale white skin, unused to sun, and a figure not even worth mentioning. It's quite difficult to waste more than a glance on this unappealing young woman who hovers around some indistinguishable age in her twenties. A second look would afford only a few more tidbits: the occasional freckle dots face and forearm, one placed peculiarly at the tip of an undersized, linear nose.
Fairly short and rather skinny, this is the sort of chit most matronly sorts would have immediately gone about the task of "plumping up" when she was younger. Doesn't seem to have done much good, though, as pointed elbows and too-visible cheekbones attest.
At present, Lyliasha's wearing the Bitran Healer uniform: dove gray breeches and a tunic whose seams are lined with the dusty rose of Bitra and the deep lavender of Healercraft. There's very little embellishment, excepting a tiny gold firelizard perched on one shoulder. On the other is pinned the purple and white knot of a Journeyman Healer.
With supper time fast approaching there are fewer and fewer healers tending to the patients scattered about the infirmary, and soon only those who are absolutely necessary to hang about in case of emergency will remain. Two Journeymen are just now finishing up at the far end of the infirmary and preparing to leave, while one or two float about on duty. At the bed nearest the entrance works Lyliasha over some prone figure, the curtain about the cot only half closed. She makes no noise while she treats him, only discrete shuffling sounds every now and again when she moves to find some equipment or prepare some herbs.
Reighley steps inside carefully, craning her neck to look around the amassed cots and floor to ceiling across the infirmary. She stays still in the doorway for several more minutes while she takes in the details of the unfamiliar room, but finally, when another visitor needs through, she starts aside, mumbling an apology. Once moving again, she continues that pace until the first healer she finds: Lyliasha, near the door. And here, she pauses again, loitering at the foot of the bed and finally querying quietly, "Excuse me?"
Apparently Lyliasha has little time for that soft question, for she whips around with a haste that is probably startling in its suddenness and a disgruntled expression written in the furrow between her brows and the set of her chin. Placing her hands behind her on the bed for support and leaning back as though weary after a hard day's work, she asks, "Yes, yes, what is it?" The age of the girl who accosts her takes a second to filter into her perceptions, and then she tacks on, "Apprentice?" Though the Journeyman certainly has a number of years on the other, she has only an inch or two on her height. Nonetheless, even slouched she manages to peer down her nose at her.
Reighley takes a quick step back as Lyliasha whirls, eyes widening at the suddenness of the gesture. "Um. I'm--I'm here for the class?" she volunteers after a moment. "They said the infirmary--here--now--with... Uh, well, I don't remember the name, but..." She trails off with a hopeful shrug.
Lyliasha brings a hand up and spreads her fingers to rub at her temples, closing her eyes to ward off whatever's creating her stress. "Shells -- I mean, so sorry, excuse me -- but I announced that I canceled this evening's class. Surely you heard?" While her first words may be spoken in a tone resembling accusation, by the end she's softened enough to sound almost apologetic. "I'm sorry if I don't know your name, but I just got back the other day, and...well. You can know mine at least. Asha." Her voice remains rapid and somewhat clipped, as though time continues to be of the essence.
Reighley looks immediately crest-fallen, frown settling into place along her mouth as Lyliasha explains. "Oh. They--they didn't tell me," she admits shyly. "I'm new. I guess they just... I don't know. My name's Reighley. I guess I just have to go ask the watchrider to take me home now?"
"Watchrider?" Asha asks blankly, her forehead steepling in tandem with her question. "Surely you're not already posted away somewhere?" She leaves her question rhetorical for the moment, the press of her patient's condition hastening her to decide, in a flash of action, "No, we certainly can't have you come all the way from Faranth-knows-where only to turn around and go back. It's half my fault, after all, for canceling on such short notice. Here, go wash up with some redwort at the sinks and come back to help me." She points in the right direction, then turns back to her work, suggesting that she'd prefer any reply come after Reighley's ready to help.
Obediently, Reighley moves to wash up, very slow and methodical about it all. Finally, though, she's done, returning to hover at Lyliasha's elbow, peering at the patient in the cot. "Fort Weyr," she answers. "At least, I live there now. I'm probationary. Jaria said I could stay there until I'm thirteen, and just come here for classes sometimes, so I get to work with our Weyrhealer the rest of the time. What are you doing?"
Stepping slightly aside to allow her assistant a view of the patient, Lyliasha reveals a man thoroughly asleep, but just as thoroughly burned, from the top of his head down to his shoulders. "He's already had some fellis to put him out, but I was just starting on topical treatments and bandages." Her explanation is hurried but precise. "According to the lad who brought him in, some youngsters thought they were playing a prank by pouring boiling water on a drudge from above." Her lips twist briefly, unpleasantly. "I can only hope they were too young to know what they were doing. Of course in Bitra, it would be the angry lover or cheated gambler who would be attacking him." Her comment may appear to be a non sequitur, but then, her uniform is unusual among those typically worn at the Hall, and includes a rose stripe that's reminiscent of the far-off Hold's colors. While she includes her extra comments she's unfolding a trio of cloths large enough to cover his head and each shoulder. "Could you dampen these with
some cold water? And be quick about it." She offers the cloths. "While we're getting these on him, you can tell me what herbs and medicines you think might be best for him?"
Reighley pales at her first good look at the patient, green eyes widening, and she takes a half-step back before she regains control of herself. "Okay," she says, nodding once as she grabs the cloths. She runs over to wet them down, letting them drip a moment before she dashes back over to Lyliasha--no more piddling arond. Wide-eyed she watches the journeyman's tending, fumbling at the question. "I--I don't know. I've never done this before. Not burns. Just--little stuff," she admits.
While she gently applies one of those clothes to his left shoulder, Asha nods for Reighley to do the same and continues her rapid and directed chatter. "Try not to put any pressure on the poor guy, now. Well, now is as good a time to learn as any. If you happen to come back to class again, I'll have to warn you that none of them will be quite this interesting until we have some of the basics covered." She glances around to make sure no one else of rank is about, then says this last in a confidential whisper. Having draped his shoulder, she reaches for the last of the clothes to place over his head and face while giving Reighley a considering sort of glance. "You're going to be alright, yes? It's not unusual to feel faint-headed at your first sight of such things. And are you yet old enough to be an apprentice? What strings did you -- or your pa? -- pull to get such a system worked out with Master Jaria?"
Biting her lower lip, Reighley nods again, leaning forward to drape one of the rags across the man's burnt shoulder. "That's okay," she admits. "Less interesting might be nice. I'm okay, though, I'm okay. I--I'm twelve and three quarters, though, so. It was her idea, though--my dad didn't have to suggest anything. One of the headwomen back at Fort wrote her a letter, though," the girl confesses after a moment.
Evelie enters the waiting area from the Hallway.
Evelie has arrived.
Evelie
Evelie is a young woman with a slim, slight form, despite her greater than average height. Her thin build and solemn demeanor give her the appearance of a woman who has nearly reached her third decade, but a closer look shows her to be no older than 24 or 25 Turns. Bright auburn hair is tied back simply with a ribbon that is her only sign of ornament. Her skin is relatively fair, and her eyes are a very light blue, verging on gray, that add to her serious countenance.
Evelie wears a dress of dark lavender of strong, well-made material. The material is thick, cutting out the chill of late autumn and early winter. Uncharacteristically colorful for Evelie's general taste, the dress is still simply made, with a wide skirt that falls to the floor with a large hem to be let down to allow for growth. Her sleeves taper an inch below her wrist, and the whole dress fits loosely and would give the impression of being too large if the soft color didn't blend into her thin form. The collar of the dress is a high v, and the well-cut lines, though plain, lend a simple but dignified countenance. Two lavender ribbons are wound into Evelie's auburn tresses, which are pulled away from her face and then fall down her back with uncharacteristic freedom.
Lyliasha stands at the bed nearest the infirmary's entrance, nearly alone in a room that has been all but deserted by unnecessary attendants in time for supper. She nods a couple of times, the second with a small, encouraging smile, at the damp cloth that Reighley has just draped over their patient's shoulders. "Right, that's our first line of attack. We can take a second before we move on to the next. There's something you should know about burn victims that isn't always intuitive." She walks around to Reighley's side, picking up a jar from one of the nearby shelves as she goes. "Did you notice the way his skin was all shiny? Almost..." there's brief hesitation, perhaps wondering whether to curb her explanation for the girl who is 'okay,' "oozing? With all that fluid being pulled out of him, we need to be always aware of the chance of dehydration."
Reighley nods quickly at Lyliasha's explanation, hovering at the older woman's side as they tend to the patient. The girl keeps sending him worried looks, distracted between watching him and her teacher. "Dehydration, where he doesn't get enough water, I know that one," she agrees, nodding. "So we just make him drink stuff, too? Why does it--do that?" A gesture to the oozing burns on the man.
Evelie slips into the room with a quiet step, apparently ready to slide in amongst the other apprentices, hopefully unnoticed. The absence of a goodly number of people in the infirmary causes her to pause inside the doorway, surprise registering on her face as she looks around for any sign of its remnants. When her eyes land on Lyliasha and Reighley, she moves towards them, stopping just short of the patient with a nod. "My apologies for being late."
Her assistant gets yet another one of those sharp nods for her explanation of dehydration. Though her good humor has by now been relatively restored, Lyliasha does mutter, "Not another one, then?" when Evelie makes her appearance before replying, "You're not late. I had intended to cancel class, but it seems the students these days are more dedicated to their studies than when I was here. Well, if you're so set on having a class that you'll come even when it's canceled, perhaps you can try your hand at answering two of our questions. First," she continues, opening the jar she holds, "do you know why bad burns ooze? And second, would you like to wash up with some redwort and help us out?"