Tea and Tinctures
WHO: Sian, Neiran & baby Riann
WHERE: Ruvoth's Weyr, HRW
WHEN: month 1, turn 2 of the 7th Pass
R'vain and Ruvoth's Weyr
The main chamber of this modest weyr is divided into two parts by means of decor and function. The section dedicated to Ruvoth consists of a stone wallow, freshly lain with rushes; a gathering of dried daisies hangs somewhat ridiculously from a tether on the wall above, some strange testament to the spot where the beast sleeps.
The rest of the chamber has undergone a dramatic transformation. A leather curtain keeps the drafts down, while thick new floor cloths offer splashes of bright color underfoot. A hearth is tucked in one corner, a finely woven blanket wrapping the settee and a worn leather padded chair facing across a low table set with pitcher and cups for serving klah or tea. Two clothes presses stand stately aside a fine set of shelves for those things that don't belong in a press, namely bound volumes of hides, a few sconces for glows, and a collection of brightly colored lake stones in a bowl of water.
A narrow curtain, tucked neatly aside, frames the sleeping chamber's entrance.
Contents:
Neiran
Obvious exits:
Ledge
Sian is seated near the hearth, a wooden cradle lined with furs and linens and covered with a wool blanket, is nearby, the Lady Riann ensconsed within. Sian is working on some needlework and glances up as she hears a dragon on the ledge.
The dragon on duty, a blue, obediently lowers his upper body to allow one of his passengers to disembark. Neiran is hardly recognizable for the first few moments that he's in R'vain's weyr, so bulked up against the frigid air is he. The dragon swoops back into the icy winds of High Reaches, leaving the healer to unwind his purple scarf from around his face, and pull down his jacket's hood. His cheeks are flushed from the dual assault of hot and cold, but he nevertheless maintains a decorous expression as he inclines his upper body in a respectful bow. "Good day, Lady. I've been assigned to see that you and the child are doing well today."
"Come in, Healer Neiran. I have hot klah here, or tea, if you prefer?" Sian presses her hand on the table to help herself rise and gestures to the other chair near the hearth - one with weyrhide padded seats and a fur over the back. "Please, come warm yourself."
Neiran slides his wherhide jacket from his shoulders, and carefully stomps some measure of snow from his winter boots before entering further. He peels his gloves from his slender hands as he approaches, and tucks them inside one pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," the young man murmurs, appreciative that Sian does not overlook her welcoming overtures. "I am more partial to tea, if it is not an inconvenience, Lady." Relieved of the bulk of his clothing, he eases his slender frame into the seat indicated.
Two pots rest on the hearth and Sian moves slowly to reach for one, setting it on a stone on the table before she moves across the room to collect a clean mug. A cabinet brings forth a plate of sweetbreads and that too, is set near the mug before tea is poured. "There is sweetener in the blue jar there, if you wish sweetening. The tea is a mint blend from this past summer's harvest." A little tea is added to her own mug and she reclaims her seat, supporting herself with table and chair arm until she is once more settled. "I have enlisted a weyr-nanny to help care for Riann, but I wanted the first couple of weeks with her, cared for by myself. I have been seeing to her needs, and she feeds well."
"Thank you." The Journeyman echoes his thanks, reaching only to claim his mug - no sweetner or sweetbreads are taken just now. His spartan acceptance of the Lady Sian's welcome in hand, he leans back in the chair subtly and looks away from the hearth, to one of his patients. "I trust that whomever aided your delivery did well." Neiran himself was indisposed that evening, as it happened, and so could not see the delivery of the babe he 'discovered.' "I am glad to hear that there have been no outstanding complications. And the child is showing no signs of illness?" He lifts his brows, drawing his mug upwards for a tentative sip to test the heat of it.
"No, she seems quite healthy." Sian replies. "Once you've had a chance to warm, you are more than welcome to examine her." A sip of her own tea and Sian cradles the mug, glancing at the child before looking back at you. "I find I am...more tired, and less resiliant after this birth than I was my first child - but then, more than twenty years separate the two."
Neiran nods his head slowly. "Yes. It is not surprising, Lady, and you are right not to be overly concerned. It will take you longer to recuperate. In the meantime, of course there are teas and tinctures which might be prescribed to aid you in recovery, and to ensure you are not susceptible to winter ailments. I would also recommend you eat red meat, especially liver, to help your body recover. Have you been offered any tinctures or teas as of yet?" He takes another sip of his tea, and then sets it down. Evidently he's warmed enough, for his eyes are on the cradle.
Sian shakes her head no and then sets her mug aside, unwrapping the tiny girl and drawing her out from the cradle. She is perhaps four and half pounds and about fifteen inches long. Dressed in a fine brushed linen gown with exquisite embroidery of tiny dragons on the hem and a small cap of knit wool to match. The babe makes a soft cooing sound and settles as she is handed over to Neiran.
Neiran reaches out and takes the babe with gingerness, but the confidence of previous practice. Supporting her head, he cradles the young lady in his arms, making a somewhat incongruous picture; the dark-eyed and stern lipped man holding a little bundle of joy. He ignores her lady's garb, for the most part, looking over her face and wee limbs superficially. He waves a hand vaguely over her face, testing her visual response briefly. "Nothing appears amiss," he decides, with the tone best described as cautiously optimistic.
Riann, for her part, follows the fingers with her eyes and coos charmingly before stuffing a whole fist in her mouth - a skill likely to earn her many suitors if her father is doing the marketing at marriage time. Sian smiles tiredly and leans back in the chair, the shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin speaking louder than her words about her weakened state. "She sleeps a good bit each time, waking only twice now, in the night, to feed. R'vain doesn't even wake when she stirs as I keep her close."
"You are to be congratulated, Lady Sian. Your daughter appears healthy, and I believe you will feel yourself again in due time. I will send an aide here with some teas and tinctures that will help you, and instructions on when to take them. If ever anything unusual arises in you or your child, do not hesitate to alert the infirmary." Neiran regards the child for a moment longer, then holds her out towards her mother, his benedictions given.
Taking Riann back into her arms, Sian smiles at the child and nuzzles her close, kissing her brow before leaning back and cradling her in her arms. "Thank you, Healer Neiran. I do appreciate your taking time and effort to come all the way up to the weyr to see to us. It is just too bitter to be taking her outside as of yet. When the weather warms and she is a couple of months older, then we will bring her down to the main hall to meet the rest of the Weyr."
"It is my duty, Lady," Neiran replies modestly, once he's settled into the seat once more. The tea is good enough that it won't be forsaken in favor of rushing off to tend to something else. "And I agree. It is best to keep her warm and still. The weather here is cruel enough on adults, let alone newborns." The healer falls silent after that, and draws his tea to his mouth once again. It's left to Sian to make idle chitchat, after he simply remarks, "once I've finished this mug, I'll leave you and your daughter in peace, Lady."
The babe fusses a little and then settles, so Sian tucks her back into the cradle and covers her warmly, then sets a toe against the rocker and gently begins to move the cradle. Her own tea is reclaimed and she twines her fingers around the cup and sips. "Your company is welcome, Neiran. It gets a bit lonely up here, with only an infant for company while R'vain is dealing with his work."
Neiran cannot help but lift a brow a small margin, his pause due for hearing his company is welcome. "I apologize. It must indeed be lonely if my company is worth mention," he says, murmuring his smooth self-depreciation. He allows his dark gaze to settle on the cradle, his face placid while he quests for a suitable topic of conversation that a Lady Holder and a Journeyman Healer can share. "I am certain you find ways to make productive use of your time, Lady."
A faint smirk. "Yes, needlework is always in demand, is it not? I've resorted to stitching posies around R'vain's collars." Sian replies, sipping at her tea and watching your face. "Do you think pink next time? Or yellow?"
Sian chuckles softly and holds out a hand, palm up. "Forgive me, Neiran. I jest with you. I am...at loose ends, yes. I find that reading more hides bores me and that needlework keeps my hands busy, but not my mind. I have a...small skill...with herbals and tinctures. Might you bring me the raw goods, or send them with a courier, and I will prepare them for you?"
The Journeyman's pale face remains impassive. "I see, to the disappointment of my instructors, no doubt, that I have yet to master the lighter aspects of social intercourse." A quiet sip of his tea follows his words, spoken smoothly. He shifts his grip on the mug, turning it in his hands to move the pale digits to a warmer spot on the ceramic. "If it would please you, Lady, I can certainly have the raw ingredients for the teas sent, and their recipes, and the mortar and pestle. The tinctures are already prepared, however."
"As senior etiquette teacher of the Caucus, perhaps the failure is mine, Neiran?" Sian replies and then nods. "That would be pleasant, yes. And if you have other preparations, for the infirmary, that need be tended to, I would be happy to assist in those as well."
"And yet, an instructor can only do so much when a pupil is not predisposed to be adept at a subject," Neiran smoothly replies, excusing the Lady Sian from needing to take the fault for his own inadequacies. "It is not under my jurisdiction to accept assistants or distribute tasks to those not on active infirmary duty, Lady," he replies, infusing his words with a slightly apologetic note. "If it interests you, I might inquire of my seniors if some of the small tasks of mixing might not be brought to your attention." He looks up at Sian with his dark eyes, to see if this sufficiently pleases her.
"That would be most excellent, Neiran." Sian replies, smiling warmly at the healer. "I will send to the Hold for my things. There is room in the corner there for me to work - and not be in R'vain's way." She does look quite cheered too. "Thank you for this!"
Neiran receives Sian's cheer mildly, straightening his shoulders mildly in what might be his own expression of 'happiness'. "I am pleased to bring you comfort and enterprise above a clean rule of health," the Journeyman replies, drawing a long sip from his mug afterwards, finishing the contents. He rises, and begins pulling on his coat again, buttoning steadily. "Perhaps in the future I will be worth thanks outside of my Craft, for learning the particular social lessons you and your peers do your best to bestow." Before he becomes too bulked up by his coat, he offers the woman a small half-bow.
Sian claps her hands together, smiling warmly before she presses hands to table and chair to rise. Visibly trembling, she gives you a neat curtsey, then grabs the table to keep from swaying. "I believe my...delivery has failed in execution. In any event, do come visit again if you find yourself with the time and inclination? We could discuss books or music or perhaps various herbal blends?"
Neiran's hands still in the act of buttoning his coat. Eyes that have been trained to find weakness certainly do not miss that trembling that the effort of a curtsey brings. "Lady Sian, I must ask you to seat yourself, and take rest. I will send some already prepared items, which I would recommend you take with rest very shortly after their arrival. When you feel your strength returned more, you might then concoct your future doses. As I mentioned, Lady, you must rest, and tell me if you feel any change or notice any shift in your child." His fingers deftly do up the remainder of his buttons, watching the woman carefully. Soon, he's wrapping the scarf around his neck. Oddly, the dragon on duty lands on the ledge, without him having needed to summon it. Still focused on Sian, the healer inclines his head to her. "If it would please you, Lady, I will do so."
Sian reclaims her seat, slowly and carefully. "I...yes, it would please me, Neiran. Very much. Might I ask a small favor,
Sian reclaims her seat, slowly and carefully. "I...yes, it would please me, Neiran. Very much. Might I ask a small favor, before you go? I would ask that you let Jensen, of the guards, know that seek to thank him for his help the night of Riann's arrival and would like him to stop by and visit at his earliest convenience?"
Neiran holds his purple scarf, waiting on closing off his mouth from speech. "Of course, Lady. I shall do so as soon as I am on the ground once more." He pulls his gloves from his pocket, sliding them onto his slender fingers. "Thank you once again for the tea."
"Anytime, Neiran." Sian murmurs softly. "Clear skies, to you." Her own tea is left on the table, the cup suddenly seeming just too heavy to deal with. One foot reaches out to rock the cradle gently and she draws her shawl a bit closer around herself, in preparation for the chill the curtain drawing back will bring.
WHERE: Ruvoth's Weyr, HRW
WHEN: month 1, turn 2 of the 7th Pass
R'vain and Ruvoth's Weyr
The main chamber of this modest weyr is divided into two parts by means of decor and function. The section dedicated to Ruvoth consists of a stone wallow, freshly lain with rushes; a gathering of dried daisies hangs somewhat ridiculously from a tether on the wall above, some strange testament to the spot where the beast sleeps.
The rest of the chamber has undergone a dramatic transformation. A leather curtain keeps the drafts down, while thick new floor cloths offer splashes of bright color underfoot. A hearth is tucked in one corner, a finely woven blanket wrapping the settee and a worn leather padded chair facing across a low table set with pitcher and cups for serving klah or tea. Two clothes presses stand stately aside a fine set of shelves for those things that don't belong in a press, namely bound volumes of hides, a few sconces for glows, and a collection of brightly colored lake stones in a bowl of water.
A narrow curtain, tucked neatly aside, frames the sleeping chamber's entrance.
Contents:
Neiran
Obvious exits:
Ledge
Sian is seated near the hearth, a wooden cradle lined with furs and linens and covered with a wool blanket, is nearby, the Lady Riann ensconsed within. Sian is working on some needlework and glances up as she hears a dragon on the ledge.
The dragon on duty, a blue, obediently lowers his upper body to allow one of his passengers to disembark. Neiran is hardly recognizable for the first few moments that he's in R'vain's weyr, so bulked up against the frigid air is he. The dragon swoops back into the icy winds of High Reaches, leaving the healer to unwind his purple scarf from around his face, and pull down his jacket's hood. His cheeks are flushed from the dual assault of hot and cold, but he nevertheless maintains a decorous expression as he inclines his upper body in a respectful bow. "Good day, Lady. I've been assigned to see that you and the child are doing well today."
"Come in, Healer Neiran. I have hot klah here, or tea, if you prefer?" Sian presses her hand on the table to help herself rise and gestures to the other chair near the hearth - one with weyrhide padded seats and a fur over the back. "Please, come warm yourself."
Neiran slides his wherhide jacket from his shoulders, and carefully stomps some measure of snow from his winter boots before entering further. He peels his gloves from his slender hands as he approaches, and tucks them inside one pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," the young man murmurs, appreciative that Sian does not overlook her welcoming overtures. "I am more partial to tea, if it is not an inconvenience, Lady." Relieved of the bulk of his clothing, he eases his slender frame into the seat indicated.
Two pots rest on the hearth and Sian moves slowly to reach for one, setting it on a stone on the table before she moves across the room to collect a clean mug. A cabinet brings forth a plate of sweetbreads and that too, is set near the mug before tea is poured. "There is sweetener in the blue jar there, if you wish sweetening. The tea is a mint blend from this past summer's harvest." A little tea is added to her own mug and she reclaims her seat, supporting herself with table and chair arm until she is once more settled. "I have enlisted a weyr-nanny to help care for Riann, but I wanted the first couple of weeks with her, cared for by myself. I have been seeing to her needs, and she feeds well."
"Thank you." The Journeyman echoes his thanks, reaching only to claim his mug - no sweetner or sweetbreads are taken just now. His spartan acceptance of the Lady Sian's welcome in hand, he leans back in the chair subtly and looks away from the hearth, to one of his patients. "I trust that whomever aided your delivery did well." Neiran himself was indisposed that evening, as it happened, and so could not see the delivery of the babe he 'discovered.' "I am glad to hear that there have been no outstanding complications. And the child is showing no signs of illness?" He lifts his brows, drawing his mug upwards for a tentative sip to test the heat of it.
"No, she seems quite healthy." Sian replies. "Once you've had a chance to warm, you are more than welcome to examine her." A sip of her own tea and Sian cradles the mug, glancing at the child before looking back at you. "I find I am...more tired, and less resiliant after this birth than I was my first child - but then, more than twenty years separate the two."
Neiran nods his head slowly. "Yes. It is not surprising, Lady, and you are right not to be overly concerned. It will take you longer to recuperate. In the meantime, of course there are teas and tinctures which might be prescribed to aid you in recovery, and to ensure you are not susceptible to winter ailments. I would also recommend you eat red meat, especially liver, to help your body recover. Have you been offered any tinctures or teas as of yet?" He takes another sip of his tea, and then sets it down. Evidently he's warmed enough, for his eyes are on the cradle.
Sian shakes her head no and then sets her mug aside, unwrapping the tiny girl and drawing her out from the cradle. She is perhaps four and half pounds and about fifteen inches long. Dressed in a fine brushed linen gown with exquisite embroidery of tiny dragons on the hem and a small cap of knit wool to match. The babe makes a soft cooing sound and settles as she is handed over to Neiran.
Neiran reaches out and takes the babe with gingerness, but the confidence of previous practice. Supporting her head, he cradles the young lady in his arms, making a somewhat incongruous picture; the dark-eyed and stern lipped man holding a little bundle of joy. He ignores her lady's garb, for the most part, looking over her face and wee limbs superficially. He waves a hand vaguely over her face, testing her visual response briefly. "Nothing appears amiss," he decides, with the tone best described as cautiously optimistic.
Riann, for her part, follows the fingers with her eyes and coos charmingly before stuffing a whole fist in her mouth - a skill likely to earn her many suitors if her father is doing the marketing at marriage time. Sian smiles tiredly and leans back in the chair, the shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin speaking louder than her words about her weakened state. "She sleeps a good bit each time, waking only twice now, in the night, to feed. R'vain doesn't even wake when she stirs as I keep her close."
"You are to be congratulated, Lady Sian. Your daughter appears healthy, and I believe you will feel yourself again in due time. I will send an aide here with some teas and tinctures that will help you, and instructions on when to take them. If ever anything unusual arises in you or your child, do not hesitate to alert the infirmary." Neiran regards the child for a moment longer, then holds her out towards her mother, his benedictions given.
Taking Riann back into her arms, Sian smiles at the child and nuzzles her close, kissing her brow before leaning back and cradling her in her arms. "Thank you, Healer Neiran. I do appreciate your taking time and effort to come all the way up to the weyr to see to us. It is just too bitter to be taking her outside as of yet. When the weather warms and she is a couple of months older, then we will bring her down to the main hall to meet the rest of the Weyr."
"It is my duty, Lady," Neiran replies modestly, once he's settled into the seat once more. The tea is good enough that it won't be forsaken in favor of rushing off to tend to something else. "And I agree. It is best to keep her warm and still. The weather here is cruel enough on adults, let alone newborns." The healer falls silent after that, and draws his tea to his mouth once again. It's left to Sian to make idle chitchat, after he simply remarks, "once I've finished this mug, I'll leave you and your daughter in peace, Lady."
The babe fusses a little and then settles, so Sian tucks her back into the cradle and covers her warmly, then sets a toe against the rocker and gently begins to move the cradle. Her own tea is reclaimed and she twines her fingers around the cup and sips. "Your company is welcome, Neiran. It gets a bit lonely up here, with only an infant for company while R'vain is dealing with his work."
Neiran cannot help but lift a brow a small margin, his pause due for hearing his company is welcome. "I apologize. It must indeed be lonely if my company is worth mention," he says, murmuring his smooth self-depreciation. He allows his dark gaze to settle on the cradle, his face placid while he quests for a suitable topic of conversation that a Lady Holder and a Journeyman Healer can share. "I am certain you find ways to make productive use of your time, Lady."
A faint smirk. "Yes, needlework is always in demand, is it not? I've resorted to stitching posies around R'vain's collars." Sian replies, sipping at her tea and watching your face. "Do you think pink next time? Or yellow?"
Sian chuckles softly and holds out a hand, palm up. "Forgive me, Neiran. I jest with you. I am...at loose ends, yes. I find that reading more hides bores me and that needlework keeps my hands busy, but not my mind. I have a...small skill...with herbals and tinctures. Might you bring me the raw goods, or send them with a courier, and I will prepare them for you?"
The Journeyman's pale face remains impassive. "I see, to the disappointment of my instructors, no doubt, that I have yet to master the lighter aspects of social intercourse." A quiet sip of his tea follows his words, spoken smoothly. He shifts his grip on the mug, turning it in his hands to move the pale digits to a warmer spot on the ceramic. "If it would please you, Lady, I can certainly have the raw ingredients for the teas sent, and their recipes, and the mortar and pestle. The tinctures are already prepared, however."
"As senior etiquette teacher of the Caucus, perhaps the failure is mine, Neiran?" Sian replies and then nods. "That would be pleasant, yes. And if you have other preparations, for the infirmary, that need be tended to, I would be happy to assist in those as well."
"And yet, an instructor can only do so much when a pupil is not predisposed to be adept at a subject," Neiran smoothly replies, excusing the Lady Sian from needing to take the fault for his own inadequacies. "It is not under my jurisdiction to accept assistants or distribute tasks to those not on active infirmary duty, Lady," he replies, infusing his words with a slightly apologetic note. "If it interests you, I might inquire of my seniors if some of the small tasks of mixing might not be brought to your attention." He looks up at Sian with his dark eyes, to see if this sufficiently pleases her.
"That would be most excellent, Neiran." Sian replies, smiling warmly at the healer. "I will send to the Hold for my things. There is room in the corner there for me to work - and not be in R'vain's way." She does look quite cheered too. "Thank you for this!"
Neiran receives Sian's cheer mildly, straightening his shoulders mildly in what might be his own expression of 'happiness'. "I am pleased to bring you comfort and enterprise above a clean rule of health," the Journeyman replies, drawing a long sip from his mug afterwards, finishing the contents. He rises, and begins pulling on his coat again, buttoning steadily. "Perhaps in the future I will be worth thanks outside of my Craft, for learning the particular social lessons you and your peers do your best to bestow." Before he becomes too bulked up by his coat, he offers the woman a small half-bow.
Sian claps her hands together, smiling warmly before she presses hands to table and chair to rise. Visibly trembling, she gives you a neat curtsey, then grabs the table to keep from swaying. "I believe my...delivery has failed in execution. In any event, do come visit again if you find yourself with the time and inclination? We could discuss books or music or perhaps various herbal blends?"
Neiran's hands still in the act of buttoning his coat. Eyes that have been trained to find weakness certainly do not miss that trembling that the effort of a curtsey brings. "Lady Sian, I must ask you to seat yourself, and take rest. I will send some already prepared items, which I would recommend you take with rest very shortly after their arrival. When you feel your strength returned more, you might then concoct your future doses. As I mentioned, Lady, you must rest, and tell me if you feel any change or notice any shift in your child." His fingers deftly do up the remainder of his buttons, watching the woman carefully. Soon, he's wrapping the scarf around his neck. Oddly, the dragon on duty lands on the ledge, without him having needed to summon it. Still focused on Sian, the healer inclines his head to her. "If it would please you, Lady, I will do so."
Sian reclaims her seat, slowly and carefully. "I...yes, it would please me, Neiran. Very much. Might I ask a small favor,
Sian reclaims her seat, slowly and carefully. "I...yes, it would please me, Neiran. Very much. Might I ask a small favor, before you go? I would ask that you let Jensen, of the guards, know that seek to thank him for his help the night of Riann's arrival and would like him to stop by and visit at his earliest convenience?"
Neiran holds his purple scarf, waiting on closing off his mouth from speech. "Of course, Lady. I shall do so as soon as I am on the ground once more." He pulls his gloves from his pocket, sliding them onto his slender fingers. "Thank you once again for the tea."
"Anytime, Neiran." Sian murmurs softly. "Clear skies, to you." Her own tea is left on the table, the cup suddenly seeming just too heavy to deal with. One foot reaches out to rock the cradle gently and she draws her shawl a bit closer around herself, in preparation for the chill the curtain drawing back will bring.