The Itchy Itchy Itch
Always remember that the future comes one day at a time. ~Dean Acheson
OOC Date: March 22, 2010
IC Date: Day 16, month 4, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: G'brion, Madilla, Pterath
Where: Dragon Infirmary, HRW
G'brion has itchy arms, and misses seeing Madilla at work every day. These two things are (probably) not related. Also, Madilla gets to meet Pterath.
G'brion heads into the dragon infirmary, accompanied by a tiny green dragonet who's following so closely it's a wonder she doesn't get stepped on. His tiny mincing steps probably help with avoiding that. There's not a thing wrong with Pterath, but Gabrion has long scratches all down the length of both his forearms, some of which have bled.
The dragonhealer on duty looks up as the pair enter, and his attention lingers on the little green: she gets an appraising, detailed assessment, and then, the older man turns his attention to G'brion. "Shells, lad. Shall I call you through a people-healer?" Despite concern, there's a bob of his head towards Pterath-- an understanding one.
"Yes, please," Gabe says politely to the man, while the green flares her tiny wings, showing off, and then folds them to her back again. "Pterath is fine, but I didn't want to bring her in the regular infirmary." He grins lopsidedly. "Is Madilla on duty?"
"Nice extension," says the dragonhealer to the green, dipping his head in her direction approvingly. But his attention rapidly returns to the weyrling; he nods. "Makes sense. Let me go check on Madilla for you... you just assure anyone who comes in here who needs /my/ help that I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
G'brion nods agreeably. "Yes sir, I surely will," he says, and after a brief glance around the room, finds a bench to sit on. Pterath, of course, follows, and she'd climb up if she were let, but Gabe forestalls her with a shake of his head. "Don't want to do that. You'll be way too big before long, and then what would we do if you forgot and sat on a bench and busted it? They'd give me latrine duty for a year," he tells her cheerfully. Absently, he rubs at the scratches on his arm, doing his very best not to apply fingernails. Rub, rub, rub.
That exchange between weyrling and dragon makes the dragonhealer laugh, as he turns to head off into the main infirmary in search of the people-healer. It doesn't take long before he returns, Madilla and a basket of supplies walking quickly behind him; her expression seems torn between dismay and delight as she hurries towards G'brion. "Ga-- /G'brion/. Oh, dear, what happened?"
G'brion guiltily snatches his hand away from his arm and stands up to greet Madilla, stepping forward and awkwardly holding out his arms in that tentative 'hug if you want?' gesture. "Hey, Madilla," he says, smiling. He's glad to see her, and that, combined with his relief in being able to consult someone about his problem, makes him wax enthusiastic in his explanations. "I /itch/," he says. "All the time, since the day of the hatching. I mean, it comes and goes. But it's not even just my arms. Sometimes my legs too, and my belly and my rear and and.. you know. I can't figure it out, maybe I'm allergic to something? The oil, maybe?" He casts a brief, worried look at Pterath - surely he couldn't be allergic to /her/?
Madilla is not adverse to hugs, oh no, though she's careful in wrapping her arms around the weyrling, avoiding /his/ arms and those scratches as best she can. The basket gets set on the ground first, though. "Congratulations," she murmurs towards his ear before she draws back again, glancing towards Pterath. "And this must be-- Pterath?" Beat. But: she looks concern, and doesn't let her gaze linger on the green, instead focusing it on those arms, as she reaches for the closest one. "You've-- done this to yourself?" If he lets him, she'll pull it close to examine it. "There was no physical rash or anything?"
"Thanks," Gabe says with a smile. "Yeah, this is Pterath." The green eyes Madilla with a hint of suspicion: maybe she's not quite sure what she thinks of these hug things. Stepping back again, he holds out his arms to show to Madilla. "No rash. I just... they itched and itched, and I tried moisturizing lotion but it didn't help. I scratch in my sleep, I can't help it. Sometimes when I'm awake, too, but when I'm asleep, I really /can't/ stop myself." He makes a face.
"It's very nice to meet you, Pterath," says Madilla, politely, turning her attention back to the green: she even smiles." Examining G'brion's arms, she shakes her head. "Maybe it's something in your sheets... or the oil you're using to oil her? Something giving you a reaction. Though... that doesn't seem to fit the itching being all over you." Her frown is a concerned one. "I can give you some cream that might be better for stopping the itch, and I can treat these, but... I don't know. It's very strange."
"It is kinda weird," Gabe admits with a frown. "I don't know. I haven't learned a lot about itching. I... almost don't care, if the cream you have gets rid of it, it's totally driving me up a wall." Pterath punctuates his statement with an emphatic little squawk of agreement. She waddles closer to Madilla and peers up at her, giving her a thorough looking-over.
Frowning, Madilla murmurs, as much to herself as to G'brion, "There's usually a rash. There /should/ be a rash." But she lets go of G'brion's arm to fetch supplies from her basket, evidently intent upon cleaning up the scratches, if nothing else. "It would be-- oh, hello, Pterath." She adjusts her gaze to consider the green, smiling again. "I promise, I'm helping, not hurting him. I hope the cream works. The last thing you need is a distraction, I bet."
G'brion grimaces when she cleans the especially deep scratch on his left arm. "Stings," he says simply - just information, not a complaint. But he doesn't move or pull his arms away. Pterath tilts her head, considering Madilla's words, then warbles at her, in the same moment that Gabe laughs. "She says you can help, so long as you're careful. I guess arms are important, huh?"
"I guess they are," laughs Madilla, plainly amused. "No amputations today, then, I promise." she keeps a careful watch on G'brion's expression as she cleans the scratches, and she's frowning again as she sets down those supplies and heads for the numbweed. "I'll make some lotion up, and send it down later. For now... we'll just numbweed a bit, and see if that helps." Beat. "What's she like, G'brion?"
"Thanks," Gabe says, grateful beyond further words. "She's..." there's a pause while he goes dreamy-eyed and tries to find a way to articulate what he wants to say. "It's like there's a second me, but - /not/. Because she's her own self. She's so... wild, and excited about life and the universe and everything." His tone is brimming full of love, admiration, and unquestionable devotion. "She's not scared of things like me. She just /does/ stuff, she doesn't think first, but just jumps right into whatever it is headfirst - hah." Something's amused him, for he smirks wryly, and then decides to share. "My mom wouldn't approve. If she were speaking to me," he says in a dry tone.
Madilla listens with rapt attention, though it doesn't stop her from applying that numbweed with careful, even strokes. It might be possible to see a tinge of jealousy in her expression-- or would be, perhaps, were G'brion not quite so dreamy about the whole thing. Probably. Her expression falls utterly, though, as he gets to the end. "Oh, /Gabe/," is her reply, brimming with emotion. "I'm so sorry. You know that I'm proud of you, right? And the rest of the healers. We all are." Beat. "She sounds /wonderful/, your Pterath."
"Yeah. I know," G'brion says, and shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to care. "Well, whatever, you can't control what other people do, only yourself." He sounds like he's reciting a mantra, and trying to believe it. But the mention of Pterath, again, brings the smile right back to his face. "...she /is/," he agrees. "It's - not at all like I thought but - it's really amazing, the whole thing, and she's just... yeah." He laughs a little, sheepish.
With a wry little smile, Madilla murmurs, "I understand how it feels, though, G'brion. It-- doesn't stop hurting. But. It does get easier, I think. It has for me, at least." She's more than happy to get carried along with the Pterath discussion though, and tips her head up to watch his expression as she finishes off the numbweeding. "I'm glad. /So/ glad."
"I figure in a week or two once she gets on a more normal sleeping schedule, I can schedule time for studying and maybe a shift in the infirmary a few times a week," Gabe says, clearly lacking any concept of how unrealistic that expectation is. "I need to talk to Meara, I guess, about how it's all going to work. We'll figure it out, though," he says, confident. "And, hey. Maybe if it works out, you could try, next hatching! You're not too old, yet." So maybe he did pick up on that hint of envy. Or maybe he's become a dragon evangelist.
Madilla looks dubious and says, gently, as she puts away the numbweed, "I think you should wait until you're finished your training, G'brion. Focus on Pterath-- the healering can come later." Her cheeks have gone pink, and it takes her several moments of fussing with supplies before she can say, "I don't think so. Standing, I mean. I'm not Weyrbred like you are, remember, and no dragon has ever looked at me that way. Besides... I think I belong to the craft wholly. I couldn't."
"Well, I'll talk to her, anyway," Gabe says, and shrugs. He listens to Madilla's comments about standing, and nods. "True, I forget how different it is for people who aren't weyrbred. Well, and plus, you'll make Master, easy, so you should. Focus on it, I mean, and not, you know. Try and be two things."
"Good plan," agrees Madilla, easily, not - as always - inclined to argue the point. She's smiling, regardless. "Master! Hah. That's a strange idea. But right... I'll just have to get you and Pterath to take me places sometimes, right? When you're not too busy rescuing the wounded and ill." Beat. "I'll get that cream send down for you, later."
"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll let you know if I get a rash, or anything," Gabe says, and reaches out to hug Madilla again, impulsively. "Take care, okay? I already miss seeing you all the time. If you want to swing by some time and see us, you know... that would be cool. We'll definitely give you rides, when she's grown." Pterath sniffs, as if to say she'll have to think about that when the time comes.
"Do," says Madilla, firmly, after being swept into that hug. She looks pleased-- but worried, too. "And keep an eye out, see if you can isolate anything that's changed." She gives both of the pair a fond smile. "I'll visit when I can, I promise. I miss seeing you all the time, too... the infirmary's not really the same. But." A firm bob of the head follows. "Look after yourself."
"We will," G'brion says firmly and, with a smile and a wave, he heads back out to the bowl. Pterath follows close on his heels, just barely out of tripping range.
OOC Date: March 22, 2010
IC Date: Day 16, month 4, turn 22 of Interval 10.
Who: G'brion, Madilla, Pterath
Where: Dragon Infirmary, HRW
G'brion has itchy arms, and misses seeing Madilla at work every day. These two things are (probably) not related. Also, Madilla gets to meet Pterath.
G'brion heads into the dragon infirmary, accompanied by a tiny green dragonet who's following so closely it's a wonder she doesn't get stepped on. His tiny mincing steps probably help with avoiding that. There's not a thing wrong with Pterath, but Gabrion has long scratches all down the length of both his forearms, some of which have bled.
The dragonhealer on duty looks up as the pair enter, and his attention lingers on the little green: she gets an appraising, detailed assessment, and then, the older man turns his attention to G'brion. "Shells, lad. Shall I call you through a people-healer?" Despite concern, there's a bob of his head towards Pterath-- an understanding one.
"Yes, please," Gabe says politely to the man, while the green flares her tiny wings, showing off, and then folds them to her back again. "Pterath is fine, but I didn't want to bring her in the regular infirmary." He grins lopsidedly. "Is Madilla on duty?"
"Nice extension," says the dragonhealer to the green, dipping his head in her direction approvingly. But his attention rapidly returns to the weyrling; he nods. "Makes sense. Let me go check on Madilla for you... you just assure anyone who comes in here who needs /my/ help that I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
G'brion nods agreeably. "Yes sir, I surely will," he says, and after a brief glance around the room, finds a bench to sit on. Pterath, of course, follows, and she'd climb up if she were let, but Gabe forestalls her with a shake of his head. "Don't want to do that. You'll be way too big before long, and then what would we do if you forgot and sat on a bench and busted it? They'd give me latrine duty for a year," he tells her cheerfully. Absently, he rubs at the scratches on his arm, doing his very best not to apply fingernails. Rub, rub, rub.
That exchange between weyrling and dragon makes the dragonhealer laugh, as he turns to head off into the main infirmary in search of the people-healer. It doesn't take long before he returns, Madilla and a basket of supplies walking quickly behind him; her expression seems torn between dismay and delight as she hurries towards G'brion. "Ga-- /G'brion/. Oh, dear, what happened?"
G'brion guiltily snatches his hand away from his arm and stands up to greet Madilla, stepping forward and awkwardly holding out his arms in that tentative 'hug if you want?' gesture. "Hey, Madilla," he says, smiling. He's glad to see her, and that, combined with his relief in being able to consult someone about his problem, makes him wax enthusiastic in his explanations. "I /itch/," he says. "All the time, since the day of the hatching. I mean, it comes and goes. But it's not even just my arms. Sometimes my legs too, and my belly and my rear and and.. you know. I can't figure it out, maybe I'm allergic to something? The oil, maybe?" He casts a brief, worried look at Pterath - surely he couldn't be allergic to /her/?
Madilla is not adverse to hugs, oh no, though she's careful in wrapping her arms around the weyrling, avoiding /his/ arms and those scratches as best she can. The basket gets set on the ground first, though. "Congratulations," she murmurs towards his ear before she draws back again, glancing towards Pterath. "And this must be-- Pterath?" Beat. But: she looks concern, and doesn't let her gaze linger on the green, instead focusing it on those arms, as she reaches for the closest one. "You've-- done this to yourself?" If he lets him, she'll pull it close to examine it. "There was no physical rash or anything?"
"Thanks," Gabe says with a smile. "Yeah, this is Pterath." The green eyes Madilla with a hint of suspicion: maybe she's not quite sure what she thinks of these hug things. Stepping back again, he holds out his arms to show to Madilla. "No rash. I just... they itched and itched, and I tried moisturizing lotion but it didn't help. I scratch in my sleep, I can't help it. Sometimes when I'm awake, too, but when I'm asleep, I really /can't/ stop myself." He makes a face.
"It's very nice to meet you, Pterath," says Madilla, politely, turning her attention back to the green: she even smiles." Examining G'brion's arms, she shakes her head. "Maybe it's something in your sheets... or the oil you're using to oil her? Something giving you a reaction. Though... that doesn't seem to fit the itching being all over you." Her frown is a concerned one. "I can give you some cream that might be better for stopping the itch, and I can treat these, but... I don't know. It's very strange."
"It is kinda weird," Gabe admits with a frown. "I don't know. I haven't learned a lot about itching. I... almost don't care, if the cream you have gets rid of it, it's totally driving me up a wall." Pterath punctuates his statement with an emphatic little squawk of agreement. She waddles closer to Madilla and peers up at her, giving her a thorough looking-over.
Frowning, Madilla murmurs, as much to herself as to G'brion, "There's usually a rash. There /should/ be a rash." But she lets go of G'brion's arm to fetch supplies from her basket, evidently intent upon cleaning up the scratches, if nothing else. "It would be-- oh, hello, Pterath." She adjusts her gaze to consider the green, smiling again. "I promise, I'm helping, not hurting him. I hope the cream works. The last thing you need is a distraction, I bet."
G'brion grimaces when she cleans the especially deep scratch on his left arm. "Stings," he says simply - just information, not a complaint. But he doesn't move or pull his arms away. Pterath tilts her head, considering Madilla's words, then warbles at her, in the same moment that Gabe laughs. "She says you can help, so long as you're careful. I guess arms are important, huh?"
"I guess they are," laughs Madilla, plainly amused. "No amputations today, then, I promise." she keeps a careful watch on G'brion's expression as she cleans the scratches, and she's frowning again as she sets down those supplies and heads for the numbweed. "I'll make some lotion up, and send it down later. For now... we'll just numbweed a bit, and see if that helps." Beat. "What's she like, G'brion?"
"Thanks," Gabe says, grateful beyond further words. "She's..." there's a pause while he goes dreamy-eyed and tries to find a way to articulate what he wants to say. "It's like there's a second me, but - /not/. Because she's her own self. She's so... wild, and excited about life and the universe and everything." His tone is brimming full of love, admiration, and unquestionable devotion. "She's not scared of things like me. She just /does/ stuff, she doesn't think first, but just jumps right into whatever it is headfirst - hah." Something's amused him, for he smirks wryly, and then decides to share. "My mom wouldn't approve. If she were speaking to me," he says in a dry tone.
Madilla listens with rapt attention, though it doesn't stop her from applying that numbweed with careful, even strokes. It might be possible to see a tinge of jealousy in her expression-- or would be, perhaps, were G'brion not quite so dreamy about the whole thing. Probably. Her expression falls utterly, though, as he gets to the end. "Oh, /Gabe/," is her reply, brimming with emotion. "I'm so sorry. You know that I'm proud of you, right? And the rest of the healers. We all are." Beat. "She sounds /wonderful/, your Pterath."
"Yeah. I know," G'brion says, and shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to care. "Well, whatever, you can't control what other people do, only yourself." He sounds like he's reciting a mantra, and trying to believe it. But the mention of Pterath, again, brings the smile right back to his face. "...she /is/," he agrees. "It's - not at all like I thought but - it's really amazing, the whole thing, and she's just... yeah." He laughs a little, sheepish.
With a wry little smile, Madilla murmurs, "I understand how it feels, though, G'brion. It-- doesn't stop hurting. But. It does get easier, I think. It has for me, at least." She's more than happy to get carried along with the Pterath discussion though, and tips her head up to watch his expression as she finishes off the numbweeding. "I'm glad. /So/ glad."
"I figure in a week or two once she gets on a more normal sleeping schedule, I can schedule time for studying and maybe a shift in the infirmary a few times a week," Gabe says, clearly lacking any concept of how unrealistic that expectation is. "I need to talk to Meara, I guess, about how it's all going to work. We'll figure it out, though," he says, confident. "And, hey. Maybe if it works out, you could try, next hatching! You're not too old, yet." So maybe he did pick up on that hint of envy. Or maybe he's become a dragon evangelist.
Madilla looks dubious and says, gently, as she puts away the numbweed, "I think you should wait until you're finished your training, G'brion. Focus on Pterath-- the healering can come later." Her cheeks have gone pink, and it takes her several moments of fussing with supplies before she can say, "I don't think so. Standing, I mean. I'm not Weyrbred like you are, remember, and no dragon has ever looked at me that way. Besides... I think I belong to the craft wholly. I couldn't."
"Well, I'll talk to her, anyway," Gabe says, and shrugs. He listens to Madilla's comments about standing, and nods. "True, I forget how different it is for people who aren't weyrbred. Well, and plus, you'll make Master, easy, so you should. Focus on it, I mean, and not, you know. Try and be two things."
"Good plan," agrees Madilla, easily, not - as always - inclined to argue the point. She's smiling, regardless. "Master! Hah. That's a strange idea. But right... I'll just have to get you and Pterath to take me places sometimes, right? When you're not too busy rescuing the wounded and ill." Beat. "I'll get that cream send down for you, later."
"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'll let you know if I get a rash, or anything," Gabe says, and reaches out to hug Madilla again, impulsively. "Take care, okay? I already miss seeing you all the time. If you want to swing by some time and see us, you know... that would be cool. We'll definitely give you rides, when she's grown." Pterath sniffs, as if to say she'll have to think about that when the time comes.
"Do," says Madilla, firmly, after being swept into that hug. She looks pleased-- but worried, too. "And keep an eye out, see if you can isolate anything that's changed." She gives both of the pair a fond smile. "I'll visit when I can, I promise. I miss seeing you all the time, too... the infirmary's not really the same. But." A firm bob of the head follows. "Look after yourself."
"We will," G'brion says firmly and, with a smile and a wave, he heads back out to the bowl. Pterath follows close on his heels, just barely out of tripping range.