Vignette: Clean Hands
When: 11/30/16
What: Milani's perspective on Reaches' Last Fall.
Warning. Mild gore.
"Get more sacks!"
"Take these empties!"
"Another pot of numbweed!"
"Push harder on the wound, dammit!"
Milani's head swam with the multitude of orders that had slammed her way throughout the course of the day. And still the blood wasn't washing off from beneath her fingertips. She stood at one of the sinks in the bathing cavern, scrubbing and scrubbing at her hands with foaming sand and a little brush. The rusty red just refused to budge from her cuticles where it had dried in the wake of minutes spent pressing a piece of gauze into the injured rider's side. Ineffectively. So much blood, oozing through the white and over her fingers. She hadn't known what else to do but press harder, add her other hand into the mix and pray to Faranth that whatever the Healer was grabbing would help.
"Out of the way!"
"Hold this!"
"Hold his shoulders down!"
The gauze, pulled away, redwort splashed into the gaping, raw, deep score and the rider writhed against her hands then passed out from the pain. The whole time, she just didn't think. She heard every command and did as she was told. She didn't lose it, she didn't faint. She got the job done. Something viscous poured over the flood of fresh blood and the bleeding seemed to slow. Milani stood and passed things to the Healer from the kit he'd brought. Needle. Thread. Funny shaped scissor-things that didn't cut.
"If he makes it through the night and infection doesn't set in, he'll make it." The Healer said bluntly and then gave her a closer look. "Go get cleaned up, girl."
Milani only nodded and turned away, got distracted by another task, sacks left on the Bowl floor, empty of 'stone to pick up before someone tripped and went flying. Firestone dust clung to the stickiness on her hands, caught in the folds of the sweater she wore over her blouse. She froze in place at the sight that met her eyes next, people peeling N'thei off of Wyaeth's back, loading the Weyrleader onto that stretcher and her breath caught in her throat. Dead or alive? For a moment, she really wasn't sure and then she saw they were working on him even as they carted him away. More blood. More raw wounds. It didn't look good.
A wave of dizziness caught Millie unawares and she bent over, hands to knees. That's what you were supposed to do right? And then she felt cool, soothing hands brushing the loose hairs back from her face, a familiar, much-loved and reassuring voice sounding in her ears. "Steady, sweetheart. Steady. It's just about done. You're doing fine." Milani closed her eyes and blew out a long breath of relief. Emilly. Her mother was down on the ground and safe and here. She turned and wrapped her arms around the greenrider and hugged her tight, tight, tight. Emilly only patted her daughter's back gently, let her cling for a little while, then calmly spoke again: "There's more to do yet." Milani knew it was true and she stepped back, heartened, nodded. "I'll see you later, Mum." And she got back to it.
Later she saw Emilly calmly slapping numbweed on her father's back. Another minor score to add to E'lan's tally. She paused long enough to hug her father too, let him tousle her hair and speak jollying words of reassurance before she went back to picking up sacks. Finally the chaos in the Bowl diminished. All of the seriously wounded had been moved into the Infirmary caverns, the minor ones treated. She felt her knees wobbling a little as adrenaline left her body, but she pushed on. There was still so much cleaning up to do. Other assistants, other caverns-folk dipped and bobbed around the Bowl, picking up dirtied bandages, abandoned equipment. Time to get her clipboard out again and start tracking things left behind. For now, she still didn't let herself think about the lost.
She came across Shiana again, just standing there holding a charred glove, tears streaming down her face. This time Milani, just slipped an arm around her, led her into the living cavern to make the other assistant have a glass of wine, and then one of klah until she could pull it together. Hayda was going to want them in her office soon to pull together all the lists and reports, go through them, make the master tallies so she had them ready to report to the Weyrwoman. So she sat patiently while Shiana blubbered on her shoulder and thought to herself that she was lucky, so lucky that she wasn't the one grieving instead.
The exhaustion started to set in around the time she and Shiana did another pass around the Bowl and declared it clean. Hayda gave them fifteen minutes to clean up a little and they scattered for a quick scrub down and then fresh clothes before returning to the tidy office to cluster around the table, pull up chairs and start churning through the lists. Millie's fingers flew on the abacus in spite of how heavy her shoulders were starting to feel.
Bandaging: 20 rolls
Gauze pads: 2 boxes
Empty numbweed: 9 pots
Empty firestone sacks: 60
It all needed to be reconciled against what was on the shelves so Hayda could prepare the replacement orders, assign someone to replenish the surface Stores from reserves, make a note to send a crew down to Southern to boil off more weed. And on and on.
The beads were starting to blur before her eyes, but Milani still reported the figures, wrote them down neatly and precisely. Precisely? No. Wait. She'd just flubbed one. She stopped and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Shiana looked awful. Her pencil hovered over hide like she couldn't even write anymore. Millie rested her fingers on the other assitant's wrist gently and the girl blinked, smiled wanly and started writing again. If Shiana could keep going, so could Millie. Giorda had the latest Infirmary report and looked grim. Meris was cleaning up the checklists and making sure each one had a check mark that said it had been rolled into the master. Alieva was collating, passing master sheets back to Hayda and the Headwoman noted each total in her big book. They were getting close and then it would be time to sleep.
Aching. Her bones were aching, she was so tired. A hot bath would take care of that. Milani trudged into the water caverns and wrinkled her nose a little at the damp trail of puddles all around the pool, the way the water was a little murky still from the volume of people who'd been in and out of it in the last few hours. It would flush itself out eventually, but her skin crawled a little at the thought of bathing in there right now. That's when she noticed the blood still clinging around her nails and she moved over to the sink instead to scrub at it. The stuff just wouldn't budged and she suddenly threw the little brush down and leaned forward, hair falling to hide her face as she finally let herself cry. The tears ran down for a little while and then she remembered dimly that lemon juice was good for bloodstains, so she wiped her face and went to go look for some of Monaco's fresh citrus in the cold storage.
Half a lemon later, her hands were clean of any visible traces of that bluerider's blood, leaving only the memories behind.
What: Milani's perspective on Reaches' Last Fall.
Warning. Mild gore.
"Get more sacks!"
"Take these empties!"
"Another pot of numbweed!"
"Push harder on the wound, dammit!"
Milani's head swam with the multitude of orders that had slammed her way throughout the course of the day. And still the blood wasn't washing off from beneath her fingertips. She stood at one of the sinks in the bathing cavern, scrubbing and scrubbing at her hands with foaming sand and a little brush. The rusty red just refused to budge from her cuticles where it had dried in the wake of minutes spent pressing a piece of gauze into the injured rider's side. Ineffectively. So much blood, oozing through the white and over her fingers. She hadn't known what else to do but press harder, add her other hand into the mix and pray to Faranth that whatever the Healer was grabbing would help.
"Out of the way!"
"Hold this!"
"Hold his shoulders down!"
The gauze, pulled away, redwort splashed into the gaping, raw, deep score and the rider writhed against her hands then passed out from the pain. The whole time, she just didn't think. She heard every command and did as she was told. She didn't lose it, she didn't faint. She got the job done. Something viscous poured over the flood of fresh blood and the bleeding seemed to slow. Milani stood and passed things to the Healer from the kit he'd brought. Needle. Thread. Funny shaped scissor-things that didn't cut.
"If he makes it through the night and infection doesn't set in, he'll make it." The Healer said bluntly and then gave her a closer look. "Go get cleaned up, girl."
Milani only nodded and turned away, got distracted by another task, sacks left on the Bowl floor, empty of 'stone to pick up before someone tripped and went flying. Firestone dust clung to the stickiness on her hands, caught in the folds of the sweater she wore over her blouse. She froze in place at the sight that met her eyes next, people peeling N'thei off of Wyaeth's back, loading the Weyrleader onto that stretcher and her breath caught in her throat. Dead or alive? For a moment, she really wasn't sure and then she saw they were working on him even as they carted him away. More blood. More raw wounds. It didn't look good.
A wave of dizziness caught Millie unawares and she bent over, hands to knees. That's what you were supposed to do right? And then she felt cool, soothing hands brushing the loose hairs back from her face, a familiar, much-loved and reassuring voice sounding in her ears. "Steady, sweetheart. Steady. It's just about done. You're doing fine." Milani closed her eyes and blew out a long breath of relief. Emilly. Her mother was down on the ground and safe and here. She turned and wrapped her arms around the greenrider and hugged her tight, tight, tight. Emilly only patted her daughter's back gently, let her cling for a little while, then calmly spoke again: "There's more to do yet." Milani knew it was true and she stepped back, heartened, nodded. "I'll see you later, Mum." And she got back to it.
Later she saw Emilly calmly slapping numbweed on her father's back. Another minor score to add to E'lan's tally. She paused long enough to hug her father too, let him tousle her hair and speak jollying words of reassurance before she went back to picking up sacks. Finally the chaos in the Bowl diminished. All of the seriously wounded had been moved into the Infirmary caverns, the minor ones treated. She felt her knees wobbling a little as adrenaline left her body, but she pushed on. There was still so much cleaning up to do. Other assistants, other caverns-folk dipped and bobbed around the Bowl, picking up dirtied bandages, abandoned equipment. Time to get her clipboard out again and start tracking things left behind. For now, she still didn't let herself think about the lost.
She came across Shiana again, just standing there holding a charred glove, tears streaming down her face. This time Milani, just slipped an arm around her, led her into the living cavern to make the other assistant have a glass of wine, and then one of klah until she could pull it together. Hayda was going to want them in her office soon to pull together all the lists and reports, go through them, make the master tallies so she had them ready to report to the Weyrwoman. So she sat patiently while Shiana blubbered on her shoulder and thought to herself that she was lucky, so lucky that she wasn't the one grieving instead.
The exhaustion started to set in around the time she and Shiana did another pass around the Bowl and declared it clean. Hayda gave them fifteen minutes to clean up a little and they scattered for a quick scrub down and then fresh clothes before returning to the tidy office to cluster around the table, pull up chairs and start churning through the lists. Millie's fingers flew on the abacus in spite of how heavy her shoulders were starting to feel.
Bandaging: 20 rolls
Gauze pads: 2 boxes
Empty numbweed: 9 pots
Empty firestone sacks: 60
It all needed to be reconciled against what was on the shelves so Hayda could prepare the replacement orders, assign someone to replenish the surface Stores from reserves, make a note to send a crew down to Southern to boil off more weed. And on and on.
The beads were starting to blur before her eyes, but Milani still reported the figures, wrote them down neatly and precisely. Precisely? No. Wait. She'd just flubbed one. She stopped and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Shiana looked awful. Her pencil hovered over hide like she couldn't even write anymore. Millie rested her fingers on the other assitant's wrist gently and the girl blinked, smiled wanly and started writing again. If Shiana could keep going, so could Millie. Giorda had the latest Infirmary report and looked grim. Meris was cleaning up the checklists and making sure each one had a check mark that said it had been rolled into the master. Alieva was collating, passing master sheets back to Hayda and the Headwoman noted each total in her big book. They were getting close and then it would be time to sleep.
Aching. Her bones were aching, she was so tired. A hot bath would take care of that. Milani trudged into the water caverns and wrinkled her nose a little at the damp trail of puddles all around the pool, the way the water was a little murky still from the volume of people who'd been in and out of it in the last few hours. It would flush itself out eventually, but her skin crawled a little at the thought of bathing in there right now. That's when she noticed the blood still clinging around her nails and she moved over to the sink instead to scrub at it. The stuff just wouldn't budged and she suddenly threw the little brush down and leaned forward, hair falling to hide her face as she finally let herself cry. The tears ran down for a little while and then she remembered dimly that lemon juice was good for bloodstains, so she wiped her face and went to go look for some of Monaco's fresh citrus in the cold storage.
Half a lemon later, her hands were clean of any visible traces of that bluerider's blood, leaving only the memories behind.