The Broken Nose
OOC Date: March 4, 2010
IC Date: Day 12, month 2, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Gabrion, Delifa (played by Madilla)
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
Delifa patches Gabrion up - his poor nose! - and he tells her the whole story about W'chek and Madilla.
Gabrion has the good fortune to be ridiculously healthy, so it's not often that he comes to the infirmary for treatment rather than for work. But now he shuffles in, well after hours, teary-eyed and clutching at his face with his hands; blood is leaking through his fingers. "Help?" he says plaintively to whoever's on night shift at the desk.
One of the things that makes having small children interesting is switching to night shifts so that you can work when your child is sleeping; Delifa's doing a more nightshifts, these days, in the hope of spending more quality time with her turn-and-a-half old. Night shifts are quiet, anyway, and Delifa's working on something else when Gabrion enters, jumping visibly at the sound of his voice, and then, at the sight of him. "Faranth, Gabrion! Come on-- let's get you cleaned up." She hurries him onwards, straight to the nearest cubicle.
Gabrion looks guilty, apprehensive, and resigned all at once when he recognizes Delifa. It could be worse: there are other people he'd like to explain this to LESS. "Id hurts," he whines as he pads after her, hands still on his face, trying not to drip blood everywhere.
As soon as there's one in relief, Delifa hands Gabrion a towel, stepping back to consider him. There are definitely questions there, and more than just the one she ends up asking: "Is it broken? No-- it must be, bleeding like that. Hold that on there a minute, let's see if we can't stop it."
Gabrion presses the towel to his nose, firmly at first, but immediately he yelps and lets up on the pressure. "I thig so," he answers. "Id /hurts/," he repeats plaintively. "Dubweed?"
With a business-like nod, apparently satisfied with the towel placement, though she has a little wince of sympathy, Delifa turns around to - ah yes - fetch the numbweed. "I'm sure it does hurt," she agrees, not unsympathetically, but not soft and warm the way, for example, Madilla would be. "Towel off, let's get the numbweed on quick. Then I can get a better look at it."
Gabrion obediently removes the towel and shuts his eyes tight: the application of numbweed is not going to be fun, but the sooner it's on, the better. "Is id really bad?" he asks anxiously. "Will id heal straight?"
All that blood must make it harder for Delifa to get a good idea of the damage, but she does a thorough - if light-touched - inspection as she applies the numbweed, which has the added bonus of helping to stem the bleeding. "If I set it. Which'll hurt like hell, but only briefly."
Gabrion responds with very rude word, then grimaces. "Sorry," he says, for the language, and shuts his eyes tight. "Thad's better already," he says as the numbweed begins to do its work. "Go od - ged it over with?" he requests piteously.
Delifa merely lifts an eyebrow in Gabrion's direction: like she hasn't heard every word in the book, in all her turns of healing /and/ teaching apprentices. She gives no warning before she sets the nose, a sudden jerking movement that no doubt hurts as much as she suggested, though less than it would without the numbweed. "How's that?" Bloody handed and all.
Gabrion shrieks like a girl. Fortunately the infirmary is mostly empty at this hour. "Ow, ow ow owowowowowow that hurt, ow, ow," he wails. "Is it straight now?" he asks, and moans some more. "Owwwwwww."
Is it mean, that Delifa cracks a smile at that reaction? It's only for a moment, though, and then, with definite sympathy in her tone, "Yes. Much better. Let me grab some water so we can clean all that blood up... and then you can tell me exactly who you were fighting, and whether they are anywhere near as bloody as you are."
Gabrion reaches up and scrubs at his eyes with his fingers, wiping away tears while doing his level best not to touch his nose at all. "Thaks," he says thickly. The questions have him dropping his gaze in embarrassment, or maybe shame. "I didet - it was just be that got hit," he says slowly.
Already turned about, fetching that water, Delifa comes to a sudden, abrupt halt as she deciphers Gabrion's words. Slowly, bowl in hand, she turns around, and this time, her expression is outright concerned. "Why did you get hit, Gabrion?"
"Because... because..." Now more tears are leaking down Gabrion's cheeks, and not from pain. "Because I told Badilla that W'chek hits B'dal."
That's... not what Delifa expected to hear, that much is patently obvious from her stricken expression. "Sit," she says, putting down the bowl, staring unashamedly; it's not an order, though, just a pain-stricken exhalation. "What do you mean?"
Gabrion sits, and wipes at his cheeks again, wincing. It hurts to touch his face. Still tears are coming freely. "I told her W'chek hits B'tal," he says, carefully sounding out the words. "I didet thig she would listen to be. I told her dot to trust hib. He's dot trustworthy. She didet believe be I dote thig, but he foud out I guess, that I told her."
Delifa reaches out to take Gabrion's hand in hers, if he'll let her; for the moment, she abandons the water, concentrating on the apprentice-candidate. Her free hand twists in her lap, awkward. "She's always had a blind-spot for him," she says, finally. "And this-- he hits his weyrmate, you say? And you."
Gabrion holds tightly to her hand. "I heard it. I dever saw him do it. But B'tal always looks like a - a scared rabbid. Like he's scared to bake him bad about any little tidy thig. Ad he hit me. He called be to the lake ad hit be. I told hib..." He starts to cry in earnest and can't finish the sentence.
It takes only a fraction of a second for Delifa to reach out with the obvious intention of enveloping Gabrion in a hug, tucking his head against her shoulder unless he pulls away first. "Shh," she says, whether or not she succeeds. "It's all right: you're going to be all right. And so is Madilla... and B'tal, too, if we can manage it." He probably can't see it, but she's not far off tears herself.
Gabrion is extra-super-careful not to press his /nose/ against Delifa's shoulder, but that aside, he puts his arms around her and holds on tightly, sobbing and trying to catch his breath and stop crying, without success. "I just - I didet want - you can't ud-have a baby," he says haltingly, through sobs. "She had to know."
Delifa runs her hand over Gabrion's head over and over, speaking low, and in a soothing tone. "Of course she did-- you did a brave thing, Gabrion. A /good/ thing. It's not your fault that this happened... don't think that for a second. You hear me?"
Gabrion nods his head against Delifa's shoulder. He hears. "I didet thig she was going to /tell/ him," he says bitterly. He takes a deep breath and expels it, through his mouth, and says, more quietly, "They're dot going to be mad at be ad kick me out?"
"Perhaps it's not quite as straight forward as that," hazards Delifa, though, to be honest, she sounds absolutely mystified. "In truth, I'm not always sure /why/ Madilla does some of the thing she does, Gabrion. She's a mystery. Anyway: /no/, they are not going to kick you out. And if anyone even thinks about such a thing, I'll stare them down, I promise."
"I duddo," Gabe says miserably. He doesn't know how W'chek found out. In the end, it doesn't matter much. "I told him if he hit be, I would tell her, ad she would know I was tellig the truth. I thought he wouldet, if I said that, but he did."
"He's--" but Delifa doesn't actually have a word to use to describe W'chek. Her expression hardens, though, and she shakes her head. "So you're going to tell her?"
"I guess I have to, dote I?" Gabe says with a heavy sigh. It's a really a question he's asking, though.
Delifa pauses, and then, "Do you want me to talk to her?"
"I... maybe," Gabrion says slowly, and reaches up to rub his eyes again, gingerly. "I dote know. I just dote really know."
Delifa draws back, now that the crying seems to be mostly under control, though her expression remains the same as ever: conflicted between anger and hurt, all for the sake of her mentee, poor Madilla. "I don't either, to be honest," she admits, with a little, rueful smile. "But I don't mind doing so. She'll probably want to talk to you regardless, knowing her... but she won't be able to ignore it, this time. That's something, isn't it? Not worth a broken nose, but /something/."
Gabrion laughs, even though it's not really funny, and nods his head, careful about how he moves it. Then he says, in a tone that clearly communicates he doesn't want to talk about this anymore, "My head really hurts. Cad I have an adalgesic? Ad then baby I'll go lie dowd."
Delifa looks as though there's more she'd like to say, but she doesn't press: in the end, she simply nods, hurriedly, drawing herself from her chair to fetch something. The mixture she brings back is in a cup, which she hands over without hesitation. "Get some sleep, Gabrion. I'll look after Madilla. You just need to concentrate on feeling better, all right? You can wash your face when you get the chance."
Gabrion nods his head, and drinks down the contents of the cup without complaint. He stands up and sets the cup down on the table, and says to Delifa, seriously, "Thak you." The look he gives her is shyly grateful, and there's a hint of a smile before he pads out of the infirmary to go and find his bed.
"You're welcome," says the older healer, keeping her expression neutral until Gabrion is out of sight. After that? Well. If looks could kill. But this one, without question, is not aimed at him. Oh no.
IC Date: Day 12, month 2, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: Gabrion, Delifa (played by Madilla)
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
Delifa patches Gabrion up - his poor nose! - and he tells her the whole story about W'chek and Madilla.
Gabrion has the good fortune to be ridiculously healthy, so it's not often that he comes to the infirmary for treatment rather than for work. But now he shuffles in, well after hours, teary-eyed and clutching at his face with his hands; blood is leaking through his fingers. "Help?" he says plaintively to whoever's on night shift at the desk.
One of the things that makes having small children interesting is switching to night shifts so that you can work when your child is sleeping; Delifa's doing a more nightshifts, these days, in the hope of spending more quality time with her turn-and-a-half old. Night shifts are quiet, anyway, and Delifa's working on something else when Gabrion enters, jumping visibly at the sound of his voice, and then, at the sight of him. "Faranth, Gabrion! Come on-- let's get you cleaned up." She hurries him onwards, straight to the nearest cubicle.
Gabrion looks guilty, apprehensive, and resigned all at once when he recognizes Delifa. It could be worse: there are other people he'd like to explain this to LESS. "Id hurts," he whines as he pads after her, hands still on his face, trying not to drip blood everywhere.
As soon as there's one in relief, Delifa hands Gabrion a towel, stepping back to consider him. There are definitely questions there, and more than just the one she ends up asking: "Is it broken? No-- it must be, bleeding like that. Hold that on there a minute, let's see if we can't stop it."
Gabrion presses the towel to his nose, firmly at first, but immediately he yelps and lets up on the pressure. "I thig so," he answers. "Id /hurts/," he repeats plaintively. "Dubweed?"
With a business-like nod, apparently satisfied with the towel placement, though she has a little wince of sympathy, Delifa turns around to - ah yes - fetch the numbweed. "I'm sure it does hurt," she agrees, not unsympathetically, but not soft and warm the way, for example, Madilla would be. "Towel off, let's get the numbweed on quick. Then I can get a better look at it."
Gabrion obediently removes the towel and shuts his eyes tight: the application of numbweed is not going to be fun, but the sooner it's on, the better. "Is id really bad?" he asks anxiously. "Will id heal straight?"
All that blood must make it harder for Delifa to get a good idea of the damage, but she does a thorough - if light-touched - inspection as she applies the numbweed, which has the added bonus of helping to stem the bleeding. "If I set it. Which'll hurt like hell, but only briefly."
Gabrion responds with very rude word, then grimaces. "Sorry," he says, for the language, and shuts his eyes tight. "Thad's better already," he says as the numbweed begins to do its work. "Go od - ged it over with?" he requests piteously.
Delifa merely lifts an eyebrow in Gabrion's direction: like she hasn't heard every word in the book, in all her turns of healing /and/ teaching apprentices. She gives no warning before she sets the nose, a sudden jerking movement that no doubt hurts as much as she suggested, though less than it would without the numbweed. "How's that?" Bloody handed and all.
Gabrion shrieks like a girl. Fortunately the infirmary is mostly empty at this hour. "Ow, ow ow owowowowowow that hurt, ow, ow," he wails. "Is it straight now?" he asks, and moans some more. "Owwwwwww."
Is it mean, that Delifa cracks a smile at that reaction? It's only for a moment, though, and then, with definite sympathy in her tone, "Yes. Much better. Let me grab some water so we can clean all that blood up... and then you can tell me exactly who you were fighting, and whether they are anywhere near as bloody as you are."
Gabrion reaches up and scrubs at his eyes with his fingers, wiping away tears while doing his level best not to touch his nose at all. "Thaks," he says thickly. The questions have him dropping his gaze in embarrassment, or maybe shame. "I didet - it was just be that got hit," he says slowly.
Already turned about, fetching that water, Delifa comes to a sudden, abrupt halt as she deciphers Gabrion's words. Slowly, bowl in hand, she turns around, and this time, her expression is outright concerned. "Why did you get hit, Gabrion?"
"Because... because..." Now more tears are leaking down Gabrion's cheeks, and not from pain. "Because I told Badilla that W'chek hits B'dal."
That's... not what Delifa expected to hear, that much is patently obvious from her stricken expression. "Sit," she says, putting down the bowl, staring unashamedly; it's not an order, though, just a pain-stricken exhalation. "What do you mean?"
Gabrion sits, and wipes at his cheeks again, wincing. It hurts to touch his face. Still tears are coming freely. "I told her W'chek hits B'tal," he says, carefully sounding out the words. "I didet thig she would listen to be. I told her dot to trust hib. He's dot trustworthy. She didet believe be I dote thig, but he foud out I guess, that I told her."
Delifa reaches out to take Gabrion's hand in hers, if he'll let her; for the moment, she abandons the water, concentrating on the apprentice-candidate. Her free hand twists in her lap, awkward. "She's always had a blind-spot for him," she says, finally. "And this-- he hits his weyrmate, you say? And you."
Gabrion holds tightly to her hand. "I heard it. I dever saw him do it. But B'tal always looks like a - a scared rabbid. Like he's scared to bake him bad about any little tidy thig. Ad he hit me. He called be to the lake ad hit be. I told hib..." He starts to cry in earnest and can't finish the sentence.
It takes only a fraction of a second for Delifa to reach out with the obvious intention of enveloping Gabrion in a hug, tucking his head against her shoulder unless he pulls away first. "Shh," she says, whether or not she succeeds. "It's all right: you're going to be all right. And so is Madilla... and B'tal, too, if we can manage it." He probably can't see it, but she's not far off tears herself.
Gabrion is extra-super-careful not to press his /nose/ against Delifa's shoulder, but that aside, he puts his arms around her and holds on tightly, sobbing and trying to catch his breath and stop crying, without success. "I just - I didet want - you can't ud-have a baby," he says haltingly, through sobs. "She had to know."
Delifa runs her hand over Gabrion's head over and over, speaking low, and in a soothing tone. "Of course she did-- you did a brave thing, Gabrion. A /good/ thing. It's not your fault that this happened... don't think that for a second. You hear me?"
Gabrion nods his head against Delifa's shoulder. He hears. "I didet thig she was going to /tell/ him," he says bitterly. He takes a deep breath and expels it, through his mouth, and says, more quietly, "They're dot going to be mad at be ad kick me out?"
"Perhaps it's not quite as straight forward as that," hazards Delifa, though, to be honest, she sounds absolutely mystified. "In truth, I'm not always sure /why/ Madilla does some of the thing she does, Gabrion. She's a mystery. Anyway: /no/, they are not going to kick you out. And if anyone even thinks about such a thing, I'll stare them down, I promise."
"I duddo," Gabe says miserably. He doesn't know how W'chek found out. In the end, it doesn't matter much. "I told him if he hit be, I would tell her, ad she would know I was tellig the truth. I thought he wouldet, if I said that, but he did."
"He's--" but Delifa doesn't actually have a word to use to describe W'chek. Her expression hardens, though, and she shakes her head. "So you're going to tell her?"
"I guess I have to, dote I?" Gabe says with a heavy sigh. It's a really a question he's asking, though.
Delifa pauses, and then, "Do you want me to talk to her?"
"I... maybe," Gabrion says slowly, and reaches up to rub his eyes again, gingerly. "I dote know. I just dote really know."
Delifa draws back, now that the crying seems to be mostly under control, though her expression remains the same as ever: conflicted between anger and hurt, all for the sake of her mentee, poor Madilla. "I don't either, to be honest," she admits, with a little, rueful smile. "But I don't mind doing so. She'll probably want to talk to you regardless, knowing her... but she won't be able to ignore it, this time. That's something, isn't it? Not worth a broken nose, but /something/."
Gabrion laughs, even though it's not really funny, and nods his head, careful about how he moves it. Then he says, in a tone that clearly communicates he doesn't want to talk about this anymore, "My head really hurts. Cad I have an adalgesic? Ad then baby I'll go lie dowd."
Delifa looks as though there's more she'd like to say, but she doesn't press: in the end, she simply nods, hurriedly, drawing herself from her chair to fetch something. The mixture she brings back is in a cup, which she hands over without hesitation. "Get some sleep, Gabrion. I'll look after Madilla. You just need to concentrate on feeling better, all right? You can wash your face when you get the chance."
Gabrion nods his head, and drinks down the contents of the cup without complaint. He stands up and sets the cup down on the table, and says to Delifa, seriously, "Thak you." The look he gives her is shyly grateful, and there's a hint of a smile before he pads out of the infirmary to go and find his bed.
"You're welcome," says the older healer, keeping her expression neutral until Gabrion is out of sight. After that? Well. If looks could kill. But this one, without question, is not aimed at him. Oh no.