(no subject)
[Backdated several days]
Every so often, No and I manage to slip into something of a comfortable co-existence, where we can actually have a conversation and I don't set him on fire just by existing.
And then there are times like last night where something happens, and it's as if someone's remembered that there's a hold full of powder kegs and then suddenly I'm the gods-damned spark that can't be trusted even if he's the one waving the torch around. He even has a ring that works like our stones. He had all the pieces and wouldn't tell me. Gods, let Sebrawyn tell me when she can't even stop herself from eyeing her meal? I've seen that look before on my cousin's kids when there's a nice leg roasting on the fire, on Aquenda so many years ago in Brill with that horrendous craving -- and on an elf desperate to feed. It's difficult to reason with someone in that state, let alone have a conversation about what might actually be happening. Given the circumstances, I judged that a small, weak mana potion would take enough of the edge off to allow Sebrawyn to speak clearly without making her as high as a kite or jeopardizing her health. Or the health of her baby, which they didn't confirm until after the fact. And yet, No had the gall to suggest that I had not only potentially damaged Sebrawyn and the child but also that I was irresponsible enough to have done so recklessly, without having taken measures first to mitigate the potion's effect. Sure, it's all well and good for me to save a life, but oh no, can't possibly trust me to be a healer who might be trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. And gods forbid that I be told anything that might have helped me understand this situation at all beforehand.
Could I have handled the situation differently? Of course - in hindsight. But given how little I knew, how little either of them would tell me about what had been going on, and the fact that there was no warning about her visit, how else should I have read the situation? An anxious Sebrawyn showing up unannounced is cause for concern, but I'm hardly keen on getting involved in any situation between her and No. Gods, it's never been my policy to shove my muzzle about any of No's relationships - after all, Bella was disturbed and Pook was ...well, Pook. Still, I probably could have been clearer with No, I suppose. On the other hand, I didn't want to violate Sebrawyn's trust on anything she might have been telling me in private. Either way, someone was bound to get upset, so of course, all of this - which was dropped into my lap - is somehow all my fault. I'm to blame for depriving him of his precious chance to relax. Right. I'm so sorry his
After that visit, it took the rest of what was supposed to be a quiet evening of meditation to cool down enough to where I didn't want to scream or punch something. My moonstone's been off since, but I guess I should put it back on soon.
[Written much later]
Through all of this, I can't help but remember the Sin'dorei man I had treated many moons ago. The sight of that emaciated elf as he entered the tent, ravaged by addiction and in so much pain...it's one of those patients that the matron often talks about, the ones burned into your memory forever. Though they never said much about how he had come to that condition, he had clearly suffered much by the time he ended up in my care; the worst part was knowing I could do nothing for his condition by then.
I never want to see Sebrawyn or her child deteriorate to that point of no return. I won't allow it to happen.
Every so often, No and I manage to slip into something of a comfortable co-existence, where we can actually have a conversation and I don't set him on fire just by existing.
And then there are times like last night where something happens, and it's as if someone's remembered that there's a hold full of powder kegs and then suddenly I'm the gods-damned spark that can't be trusted even if he's the one waving the torch around. He even has a ring that works like our stones. He had all the pieces and wouldn't tell me. Gods, let Sebrawyn tell me when she can't even stop herself from eyeing her meal? I've seen that look before on my cousin's kids when there's a nice leg roasting on the fire, on Aquenda so many years ago in Brill with that horrendous craving -- and on an elf desperate to feed. It's difficult to reason with someone in that state, let alone have a conversation about what might actually be happening. Given the circumstances, I judged that a small, weak mana potion would take enough of the edge off to allow Sebrawyn to speak clearly without making her as high as a kite or jeopardizing her health. Or the health of her baby, which they didn't confirm until after the fact. And yet, No had the gall to suggest that I had not only potentially damaged Sebrawyn and the child but also that I was irresponsible enough to have done so recklessly, without having taken measures first to mitigate the potion's effect. Sure, it's all well and good for me to save a life, but oh no, can't possibly trust me to be a healer who might be trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. And gods forbid that I be told anything that might have helped me understand this situation at all beforehand.
Could I have handled the situation differently? Of course - in hindsight. But given how little I knew, how little either of them would tell me about what had been going on, and the fact that there was no warning about her visit, how else should I have read the situation? An anxious Sebrawyn showing up unannounced is cause for concern, but I'm hardly keen on getting involved in any situation between her and No. Gods, it's never been my policy to shove my muzzle about any of No's relationships - after all, Bella was disturbed and Pook was ...well, Pook. Still, I probably could have been clearer with No, I suppose. On the other hand, I didn't want to violate Sebrawyn's trust on anything she might have been telling me in private. Either way, someone was bound to get upset, so of course, all of this - which was dropped into my lap - is somehow all my fault. I'm to blame for depriving him of his precious chance to relax. Right. I'm so sorry his
After that visit, it took the rest of what was supposed to be a quiet evening of meditation to cool down enough to where I didn't want to scream or punch something. My moonstone's been off since, but I guess I should put it back on soon.
[Written much later]
Through all of this, I can't help but remember the Sin'dorei man I had treated many moons ago. The sight of that emaciated elf as he entered the tent, ravaged by addiction and in so much pain...it's one of those patients that the matron often talks about, the ones burned into your memory forever. Though they never said much about how he had come to that condition, he had clearly suffered much by the time he ended up in my care; the worst part was knowing I could do nothing for his condition by then.
I never want to see Sebrawyn or her child deteriorate to that point of no return. I won't allow it to happen.