Escape.
A'son wakes up to find Milani in the infirmary with him. He's grouchy and she helps him escape... well, sort of.
Log stolen from Milani. I apologize for any... weirdness on my part, I was absolutely exhausted while RPing. Excuse randomly omitted words and strange sentence structure, please! ;)
Morning light splashes into the infirmary from the cavern mouth. Healers move to and fro from patient to patient. There's more than a few here today, the odd cry of pain rings out. Behind the curtain around one particular cot, a figure that doesn't quite belong, what with being from the Reaches and everything, and not a healer, or even anyone of any importance, sits perched cross-legged in a chair. She waits patiently for the man on the cot to wake up, book balanced in hands, reading a page, looking up, looking down again. Her father's jacket is slung across the chair back, along with a pair of baggy trousers but otherwise she's dressed for Istan weather in a simple, lightweight white dress. Waiting.
A'son's figure stirs in the bed and slowly, very slowly he pulls himself up into a sitting position. He's got his face in his hands, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He moves his right leg and winces. "Mmm. Damn, damn." Apparently numbweed has worn off, pain and swelling is setting in. Turning and looking over, he sees Milani. He stares at her blankly. Confused.
Cussing. Always a good sign right? The book drops a little, comes to rest on Milani's crossed ankles and she fixes a blue-green stare on the Weyrleader. "Good morning," she says cheerily enough. "I heard you tried to get yourself killed last night. I really don't approve." Then she smiles, wide and bright as ever though there's something fragile about it as she moves to pick up the marker off the little table where she'd left it, slipped it into the book. "Want some more numbweed? The healer in charge of you this morning said you'd probably want some when you woke up. I can get him if you like. Oh, yeah, and you're supposed to have this." She picks up a glass that looks like it has something foul-tasting in it. "Don't ask me what's in it, I don't really want to know."
"Nah, didn't try to get myself killed. I'lanto tried to kill me. Damn bastard, not even a warning." A'son groans, throwing his legs over the edge. Pain winces through his face and he pulls the blanket up, looking down. The wound has been left out over night to do it's draining thing, air out, whatnot. It's pretty gross. He's expressionless as he experiementally tries to stand on it. Flash of pain goes over him and drops back down onto the bed. "Answer's that question. I don't want to know either. Must of been something to help me sleep. No, no numbweed. Maybe later."
"I'lanto huh? Remind me to go find him later and kick him in the shins," Milani says pleasantly enough and then gives him a stern look. "Standing? You've gotta be kidding me, Weyrleader. Stay in bed like a good boy or I'll have to come sit on you," she quips and then shakes her head about the glass. "Not for sleeping. I dunno, it was all a bunch of healer mumbo jumbo to me. Ummmm 'anti-inflamma-something'." She shrugs and then drops her feet to the floor, bare of course. Can't the girl ever keep a pair of shoes on? And pads the two short steps over to the edge of the bed. "Sitting. I'll be gentle," she promises and nudges onto the bed's edge. "C'mon. Drink up. Maybe if I'm nice I'll even get you some klah to get rid of the taste afterwards because damn, the /smell/ of this. It's worse than you!" Big eyes. Big eyes that have carefully not been looking at the grossness that she now has her back to.
A'son narrows his eyes and gives Milani a look when she tells him to stay in bed like a good boy. He doesn't comment on that, instead just chooses to remain where he is. Occasionally he leans foward, putting pressure on it. Watching the way his muscle is moving. "Thanks. Refrain from injuring my Weyrsecond, I need him." The glass given an eyeball. "Nah, that's okay. I'll drink it some other time. I want to go back to my weyr. I need to... do something. Anything. Not sit here. I'm not staying here all day. I'm leaving. I want crutches. Hey, you!" He leans forward, waving his hand at a healer that goes by. "Can I have crutches? Can I leave?" The man gives him a look and tells him to wait.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't make it permanent, just make him think about sharing your pain for five minutes or so," Milani points out then rests a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Ays. Don't." Just that. Two words. Quiet-like. When did she grow up? "You want work, I'll go get you work. Push that now and you might wind up back here with a lot worse. And you know it." Chin up. Daring him to argue with her. Glass, held up. "Or are you trying to make me sit on you?" Teasing a little now.
"Get worse? Like, 'Hey, your leg is messed up for life now it's... still messed up for life'?" A'son's eyebrows arch and tries another time to get up, winces and drops again. He's frustrated and it shows. Tense shoulders, tense face. "No. I don't want to be held up in infirmary. Good leaders don't get their leg messed up and then hide in the infirmary. They get up and they walk around and they find out what the hell happened, even if it hurts." He takes the glass from her and leans over, putting it back down on the table. "I appreciate this, Millie. But I don't want to drink it."
"Get worse like ... fall off and need a wooden one instead," Milani says implacably. "It's still really early you know. Really early. I mean, sun's up," a squint towards the entrance and then back at him. "Okay. No thingie that's supposed to make the swelling go down and help healing and all that good stuff. Stiff drink instead? Maybe then you won't feel it when your leg falls off." She sighs softly then and reaches for his wrist as he's leaning for the table. "Shells, I wouldn't want to drink it if I was in your shoes either. I'm just playing messenger-girl here. Oh yeah, and trying to make sure your leg doesn't fall off." Head-bob. "I did bring brandy though. You're supposed to bring brandy to a sick-bed."
A'son purses his lips, looking over at her when she mentions he might end up needing a wooden one if he's not careful. Point. "I had to stay here last night, I'm not staying all night. Caitlyn got hurt something bad, I think. I need to go see what happened to her stupid ass." The nasty concoction is given a dirty look. "Nope. No good stuff for me. Brandy? I'm not sick. I'm injured." Something else clicks into place. "Messenger-girl?"
"And you'll do allll of that after you do what the nice healer guy said you should. You know. To avoid the gimpy peg leg thing," Milani insists with somewhat forced chipperness. "I'll even help you get there myself if they won't give you any crutches. But you're not being a good leader if you're not taking care of yourself either." Beat. "For the healer. Messenger for the healer. They're /busy/ you know. With the others." More quietly that and then she leans for the glass again. "C'mon, Weyrleader. Drink up. For me?" Head-tilt and this time her bestest faux-winning look. "Usually that one works," she notes about it even and then smiles more genuinely. "You can still have the brandy chaser if you want too. And fiiine, injury-bed. Whatever. Tell me I read too many adventure stories, because that's where I got the idea from."
"The Istan healers called to you from High Reaches to be their messenger because they're too busy to take care of the Weyrleader?" A'son arches his eyebrows in an 'I'll believe that probably never' look. He leans over again, watching as more people go by. "Crutches, now!" Is hollered and he swings an arm over to grab the drink off the table. He drinks it in one or two long gulps, looking totally disgusted. "Adventure stories? I'm sorry, Milani. I'm not a really good host. But I've got stuff, people, to worry about. X'lar got hit with a score and some others and it was just a bad fall, I think. I need to find out what happened to one of my Wingleaders."
Milani snorts softly. "No. I showed up. The guy three beds over was having issues. The healer guy put that glass down and said 'Make sure he drinks that when he wakes up, kid,' and ran off." She looks pleased though when the stuff in the glass goes down the hatch and then bends down to where her bag is slumped nearby and rummages for the brandy. "Here if you want it." Blue-green eyes lock on his face steadily. "I know that A'son. Just had to see for myself that you were okay. And you are. But if you don't want any help, I'll just y'know, shove off and go home. I'm pretty sure Xie's going to be okay. He'll have a scar to talk about. Get more girls with, you know." Deep breath in, deep breath out. "Ready? You can lean on my shoulder if you want, or I'll go track down the guy with the crutches and bring them to you. I can be very persuasive you know."
"See, someone else calls kid. It's not just me." A'son smirks a little and watches as the healer he talked to wanders off. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. No, you know, I'll pass on the brandy. Need to be sober." He takes in a deep breath and blows it out. "Will you please go and find that guy for me? I just... I need to be able to see what's going on. I want to start moving."
"I know. You'd think everyone would have stopped when I hit over 5'8," Milani opines with mock-mournfulness, but nods about the brandy, though she puts the flask next to his empty glass. "A sip won't make you drunk, but I hear you." Off the bed she slips with a brief pat for his shoulder. "Be right back." Pause, turn, finger raised. "Don't try to walk on it without the damn crutches though, got me?" And she wags the finger once. Her expression softens a moment later. "It's what makes you a good Weyrleader." Then she's off in search of that guy. She's gone probably long enough to make A'son very impatient but does eventually come back triumphant. "Okay. I traded my first-born for these and promised you wouldn't be up for too long, but no one bothered to give me a time-limit, so I think you're in the clear to go take a look around. You could probably even make a break for your weyr eventually, but I don't recommend it. If you fall down, it'll just make /that/ messier," a gesture towards the wound. The crutches are handed over with all due seriousness. "I'll just wait here?" Softly again. "Or I can just quietly vanish again. I know I said you could have my shoulder but -- I know. This isn't my place." Chin up again, smile just a little wry now.
A'son purses his lips and waits on the bed. And waits. And waits for Milani to come back. While she's gone he leans down and starts to poke at the wound. It hurts, he makes a face and sits up, folding his arms across his chest. "Ah ha! No, once I'm up they won't get me back. They said I could walk around today, go back to my weyr. Going up stairs will be an issue... but." He shrugs it off, taking the crutches from her and getting his feet. He experimentally moves around before shoving off out of his little alcove. "Quietly vanish, you don't know how to quietly vanish? But I don't think you're going to see things you want to see. Maybe we can meet later on today or tomorrow?"
For once, she just listens and watches, eyes one of the crutches. "Hold on a sec," moves to loosen the screw and pop it up a little. "Must have been two singles from different people. There." Nimble fingers tighten the screw again. "Now you won't look like a hunchback too," she adds and moves to tidy up a little, her book, the flask back into her back. Her shoes rescued from under the chair and stuck on her feet each in turn. "If you need help with your steps, I'll wait there. And I can /so/ quietly vanish." Milani's hand sneaks out towards his cheek, fingers light. "I'm off-duty. Normally I'd go somewhere fun or read a book, but then I heard about this gimp down at Ista --" she breaks off, takes a deep breath. "I'll be on your stairs. So you don't fall and break your other leg. And then I'll get out of your hair." Beat. "Being quiet now, see? Watch." And she turns, hitches the curtain back a little, looks left, looks right exaggeratedly. There's her smile sent over her shoulder for him and then she slips away. Quietly. As promised.
A'son's watches as Milani fixes his crutches and then disappears, silently. "Wonder how long being silent is going to last... all of ten seconds maybe." With a grimace he pushes out into the main section of cavern. Time to check on those injured riders from the night before. When he starts wandering around, shouts of 'what do you think you're doing' can be heard from the head healer on shift.
Log stolen from Milani. I apologize for any... weirdness on my part, I was absolutely exhausted while RPing. Excuse randomly omitted words and strange sentence structure, please! ;)
Morning light splashes into the infirmary from the cavern mouth. Healers move to and fro from patient to patient. There's more than a few here today, the odd cry of pain rings out. Behind the curtain around one particular cot, a figure that doesn't quite belong, what with being from the Reaches and everything, and not a healer, or even anyone of any importance, sits perched cross-legged in a chair. She waits patiently for the man on the cot to wake up, book balanced in hands, reading a page, looking up, looking down again. Her father's jacket is slung across the chair back, along with a pair of baggy trousers but otherwise she's dressed for Istan weather in a simple, lightweight white dress. Waiting.
A'son's figure stirs in the bed and slowly, very slowly he pulls himself up into a sitting position. He's got his face in his hands, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He moves his right leg and winces. "Mmm. Damn, damn." Apparently numbweed has worn off, pain and swelling is setting in. Turning and looking over, he sees Milani. He stares at her blankly. Confused.
Cussing. Always a good sign right? The book drops a little, comes to rest on Milani's crossed ankles and she fixes a blue-green stare on the Weyrleader. "Good morning," she says cheerily enough. "I heard you tried to get yourself killed last night. I really don't approve." Then she smiles, wide and bright as ever though there's something fragile about it as she moves to pick up the marker off the little table where she'd left it, slipped it into the book. "Want some more numbweed? The healer in charge of you this morning said you'd probably want some when you woke up. I can get him if you like. Oh, yeah, and you're supposed to have this." She picks up a glass that looks like it has something foul-tasting in it. "Don't ask me what's in it, I don't really want to know."
"Nah, didn't try to get myself killed. I'lanto tried to kill me. Damn bastard, not even a warning." A'son groans, throwing his legs over the edge. Pain winces through his face and he pulls the blanket up, looking down. The wound has been left out over night to do it's draining thing, air out, whatnot. It's pretty gross. He's expressionless as he experiementally tries to stand on it. Flash of pain goes over him and drops back down onto the bed. "Answer's that question. I don't want to know either. Must of been something to help me sleep. No, no numbweed. Maybe later."
"I'lanto huh? Remind me to go find him later and kick him in the shins," Milani says pleasantly enough and then gives him a stern look. "Standing? You've gotta be kidding me, Weyrleader. Stay in bed like a good boy or I'll have to come sit on you," she quips and then shakes her head about the glass. "Not for sleeping. I dunno, it was all a bunch of healer mumbo jumbo to me. Ummmm 'anti-inflamma-something'." She shrugs and then drops her feet to the floor, bare of course. Can't the girl ever keep a pair of shoes on? And pads the two short steps over to the edge of the bed. "Sitting. I'll be gentle," she promises and nudges onto the bed's edge. "C'mon. Drink up. Maybe if I'm nice I'll even get you some klah to get rid of the taste afterwards because damn, the /smell/ of this. It's worse than you!" Big eyes. Big eyes that have carefully not been looking at the grossness that she now has her back to.
A'son narrows his eyes and gives Milani a look when she tells him to stay in bed like a good boy. He doesn't comment on that, instead just chooses to remain where he is. Occasionally he leans foward, putting pressure on it. Watching the way his muscle is moving. "Thanks. Refrain from injuring my Weyrsecond, I need him." The glass given an eyeball. "Nah, that's okay. I'll drink it some other time. I want to go back to my weyr. I need to... do something. Anything. Not sit here. I'm not staying here all day. I'm leaving. I want crutches. Hey, you!" He leans forward, waving his hand at a healer that goes by. "Can I have crutches? Can I leave?" The man gives him a look and tells him to wait.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't make it permanent, just make him think about sharing your pain for five minutes or so," Milani points out then rests a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Ays. Don't." Just that. Two words. Quiet-like. When did she grow up? "You want work, I'll go get you work. Push that now and you might wind up back here with a lot worse. And you know it." Chin up. Daring him to argue with her. Glass, held up. "Or are you trying to make me sit on you?" Teasing a little now.
"Get worse? Like, 'Hey, your leg is messed up for life now it's... still messed up for life'?" A'son's eyebrows arch and tries another time to get up, winces and drops again. He's frustrated and it shows. Tense shoulders, tense face. "No. I don't want to be held up in infirmary. Good leaders don't get their leg messed up and then hide in the infirmary. They get up and they walk around and they find out what the hell happened, even if it hurts." He takes the glass from her and leans over, putting it back down on the table. "I appreciate this, Millie. But I don't want to drink it."
"Get worse like ... fall off and need a wooden one instead," Milani says implacably. "It's still really early you know. Really early. I mean, sun's up," a squint towards the entrance and then back at him. "Okay. No thingie that's supposed to make the swelling go down and help healing and all that good stuff. Stiff drink instead? Maybe then you won't feel it when your leg falls off." She sighs softly then and reaches for his wrist as he's leaning for the table. "Shells, I wouldn't want to drink it if I was in your shoes either. I'm just playing messenger-girl here. Oh yeah, and trying to make sure your leg doesn't fall off." Head-bob. "I did bring brandy though. You're supposed to bring brandy to a sick-bed."
A'son purses his lips, looking over at her when she mentions he might end up needing a wooden one if he's not careful. Point. "I had to stay here last night, I'm not staying all night. Caitlyn got hurt something bad, I think. I need to go see what happened to her stupid ass." The nasty concoction is given a dirty look. "Nope. No good stuff for me. Brandy? I'm not sick. I'm injured." Something else clicks into place. "Messenger-girl?"
"And you'll do allll of that after you do what the nice healer guy said you should. You know. To avoid the gimpy peg leg thing," Milani insists with somewhat forced chipperness. "I'll even help you get there myself if they won't give you any crutches. But you're not being a good leader if you're not taking care of yourself either." Beat. "For the healer. Messenger for the healer. They're /busy/ you know. With the others." More quietly that and then she leans for the glass again. "C'mon, Weyrleader. Drink up. For me?" Head-tilt and this time her bestest faux-winning look. "Usually that one works," she notes about it even and then smiles more genuinely. "You can still have the brandy chaser if you want too. And fiiine, injury-bed. Whatever. Tell me I read too many adventure stories, because that's where I got the idea from."
"The Istan healers called to you from High Reaches to be their messenger because they're too busy to take care of the Weyrleader?" A'son arches his eyebrows in an 'I'll believe that probably never' look. He leans over again, watching as more people go by. "Crutches, now!" Is hollered and he swings an arm over to grab the drink off the table. He drinks it in one or two long gulps, looking totally disgusted. "Adventure stories? I'm sorry, Milani. I'm not a really good host. But I've got stuff, people, to worry about. X'lar got hit with a score and some others and it was just a bad fall, I think. I need to find out what happened to one of my Wingleaders."
Milani snorts softly. "No. I showed up. The guy three beds over was having issues. The healer guy put that glass down and said 'Make sure he drinks that when he wakes up, kid,' and ran off." She looks pleased though when the stuff in the glass goes down the hatch and then bends down to where her bag is slumped nearby and rummages for the brandy. "Here if you want it." Blue-green eyes lock on his face steadily. "I know that A'son. Just had to see for myself that you were okay. And you are. But if you don't want any help, I'll just y'know, shove off and go home. I'm pretty sure Xie's going to be okay. He'll have a scar to talk about. Get more girls with, you know." Deep breath in, deep breath out. "Ready? You can lean on my shoulder if you want, or I'll go track down the guy with the crutches and bring them to you. I can be very persuasive you know."
"See, someone else calls kid. It's not just me." A'son smirks a little and watches as the healer he talked to wanders off. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. No, you know, I'll pass on the brandy. Need to be sober." He takes in a deep breath and blows it out. "Will you please go and find that guy for me? I just... I need to be able to see what's going on. I want to start moving."
"I know. You'd think everyone would have stopped when I hit over 5'8," Milani opines with mock-mournfulness, but nods about the brandy, though she puts the flask next to his empty glass. "A sip won't make you drunk, but I hear you." Off the bed she slips with a brief pat for his shoulder. "Be right back." Pause, turn, finger raised. "Don't try to walk on it without the damn crutches though, got me?" And she wags the finger once. Her expression softens a moment later. "It's what makes you a good Weyrleader." Then she's off in search of that guy. She's gone probably long enough to make A'son very impatient but does eventually come back triumphant. "Okay. I traded my first-born for these and promised you wouldn't be up for too long, but no one bothered to give me a time-limit, so I think you're in the clear to go take a look around. You could probably even make a break for your weyr eventually, but I don't recommend it. If you fall down, it'll just make /that/ messier," a gesture towards the wound. The crutches are handed over with all due seriousness. "I'll just wait here?" Softly again. "Or I can just quietly vanish again. I know I said you could have my shoulder but -- I know. This isn't my place." Chin up again, smile just a little wry now.
A'son purses his lips and waits on the bed. And waits. And waits for Milani to come back. While she's gone he leans down and starts to poke at the wound. It hurts, he makes a face and sits up, folding his arms across his chest. "Ah ha! No, once I'm up they won't get me back. They said I could walk around today, go back to my weyr. Going up stairs will be an issue... but." He shrugs it off, taking the crutches from her and getting his feet. He experimentally moves around before shoving off out of his little alcove. "Quietly vanish, you don't know how to quietly vanish? But I don't think you're going to see things you want to see. Maybe we can meet later on today or tomorrow?"
For once, she just listens and watches, eyes one of the crutches. "Hold on a sec," moves to loosen the screw and pop it up a little. "Must have been two singles from different people. There." Nimble fingers tighten the screw again. "Now you won't look like a hunchback too," she adds and moves to tidy up a little, her book, the flask back into her back. Her shoes rescued from under the chair and stuck on her feet each in turn. "If you need help with your steps, I'll wait there. And I can /so/ quietly vanish." Milani's hand sneaks out towards his cheek, fingers light. "I'm off-duty. Normally I'd go somewhere fun or read a book, but then I heard about this gimp down at Ista --" she breaks off, takes a deep breath. "I'll be on your stairs. So you don't fall and break your other leg. And then I'll get out of your hair." Beat. "Being quiet now, see? Watch." And she turns, hitches the curtain back a little, looks left, looks right exaggeratedly. There's her smile sent over her shoulder for him and then she slips away. Quietly. As promised.
A'son's watches as Milani fixes his crutches and then disappears, silently. "Wonder how long being silent is going to last... all of ten seconds maybe." With a grimace he pushes out into the main section of cavern. Time to check on those injured riders from the night before. When he starts wandering around, shouts of 'what do you think you're doing' can be heard from the head healer on shift.