| "So we patch 'em up and get them out of here?" |
[Aug. 8th, 2006|10:22 pm] |
Meeting Aida, Roa
It's been a reasonably calm morning in the infirmary so far; aside from the corner with a screened off Roa and the guards, things are pretty normal in here...which means attending to various minor injuries as they trickle in, working on restocking, dealing with all the supplies that will certainly be needed next Threadfall, and all of that fun. Aida has set herself at one of the worktables in the alcove, leaned up against it as she goes about combining this and that for a particular sort of tea. She's smiling absently, paying attention to what she's doing with only a *bit* of distance to her expression.
Medina wanders into the infirmary, the red of a cold spring morning in her cheeks, her hands wrapped around a mug of klah. Slightly early for her shift in the infirmary, she takes stock of first the empty beds, then a girl at a worktable, mixing herbs, then she takes a long but covert look at the screened off section, hiding the Goldrider. Dragging her eyes away from the screens, she turns her attention back to the girl at the worktable, and makes her way slowly over.
She is apparently talking to herself under her breath; something not immediately obvious until one gets closer. Whatever it is she's saying it's certainly inaudible, but...well. Aida works quietly, bopping her head from side to side. It's when she catches the sound of the footsteps that she pauses in what she's doing, lifting her chin and quieting as she glances over her shoulder. There's a moment spent in study of the other woman, her eyes flicking first to the knot, and then to take in the rest of her, and then she's finally flashing a warm smile. "Hello, there," she greets.
Medina cocks her head to the side, as if trying to locate the sound. The sound ceases, and she turns her attention back to the girl. The girl speaks, and her warm smile seems welcoming. Medina returns the smile, but smaller, a bare crack in her reserve, a reserve and attempt at maturity beyond her years which continues from her severly plaited hair to her quiet body motion and impeccably neat dressing. "Hello," She replies. "I'm Medina, the new Journeyman Healer." She looks over the shoulder of the girl, silently cataloguing both the lack of any knot on the girl's dress, and, audibly, the herbs she is mixing. "That's willowbark for fevers, and the sponge leaf to carry liquids for teas and tisanes... Carrying Fellis juice?"
"In the Caucus," Aida adds to the notation of Medina being the new Journeyman, her smile staying warm. There's a chuckle as she slips half a step to the side to allow her work to be inspected, amusement flickering at the corners of her smile, maybe even something a little smug there. "And yes," she agrees. "That would be correct. If you would like to check my work I can grab the recipe I'm following -- alternately, if you're looking for a way to make yourself useful, I can find you the list of what we have need to restock, today. I am a resident of the Weyr, and an assistant in here. My name is Aida."
"Aida." Medina repeats as if to commit it to memory. She leant over the table to inspect the sponge leaf more closely. An incorrectly prepared leaf could lead to incorrect dosing of Fellis... but it seemed well maintained. "I doubt I need to check your recipe. An excellent combination for spring fevers. So you are not an apprentice?" Visibly, Medina steps back from the table, bringing her hands up in front in a gesture of entreaty. She is looking anywhere but at Aida. "My apologies. That's a personal question. I would like to see a list of the things to restock, if you would help." She moved further from the table allowing the infirmary assistant room to move away from the table.
Roa has connected.
Her work is sound, at least as far as a surface glance would show. Aida gives a light shake of her head, turning her attention back to what she's doing and finishing up with the bit of measuring she'd been in the midst of. With that taken care of, she slides back, turning to head over to a clipboard that's been set aside. "I'm not an apprentice, no," she agrees. "Just an assistant." The clipboard is picked up, glanced over, then offered out towards Medina. "We've another 'Fall due in five days," is noted by way of explanation.
Glancing at the list of things needed for the next fall, Medina sighed. It was a long list, and was dominated by bandages, numbweed and fellis juice. "So we patch 'em up and get them out of here?" She questions roughly, although it is more of a statement.
"It depends on the injury," Aida says, giving a little toss of her head and sliding back to 'her' worktable, picking up where she left off. "But yes, in general; treat the wounded, see that they're going to heal, and then send them off to do so. More critical injuries, obviously, require that they remain here while they are being tended to."
One of the cots in the human side of the infirmary is, perhaps, particularly notable because of the long golden neck and wedge-head that snakes from the dragon side to lie beside it. Golden Tialith has, despite the best efforts of cajoling by frustrated aides, refused to move any farther from her rider than this. Not only does this create a road block, but great glowing eyes watch everything, and have unnerved a few folks enough that trays have spilled and instruments have needed to be re-sterilized. Said rider, a slight young woman with rediculously long dark hair, has been curled up in sleep beneath a not-at-all-standard-issue blanket of rabbit pelt, the central design a long golden dragon in flight with a tiny dark-haired rider perched atop her. But in the smooth transitions that seem to be announcing her shift from one state to the other, the little rider is lying on her side, eyes open and and settled on whatever it is she happens to be facing. Perhaps a healer and an aide going about their daily business.
"Do we get a lot of the critical patients after a 'Fall?" Medina asks. Her eyes slide over to the latest injured rider that has required a bed in the infirmary. Eyes stare back at her, and she jumps, visibly shaken. She stares back, uncertain whether or not to go over, or to stay where she is. She shifts uncomfortably, then stills. Medina glances over to the Assistant that she /maybe/ offended, then glances quickly away, unable to let Aida read her indecision in the worried set of her eyes and brows.
"It happens," Aida replies quietly, lifting her shoulders in something of a shrug as she offers a smile over Medina's way. Seeing the healer's state, her attention swings past the woman and sweeps over the infirmary at large -- when she notes Roa's open eyes, she winces a bit. "You may want to see if she wants anything," she suggests much more quietly, turning her gaze back to Medina. More conversationally she continues, "The infirmary handles the Weyr's wounded, 'Fall or otherwise. There are...there have been quite a few bad falls here, as of late. Unfortunately. We've lost a number of riders."
The Telgari in the bed rolls slowly onto her back as Medina jerks and looks away. One hand lowers to rest lightly on the draconic muzzle beside her bed and an interesting thing occurs. With Roa's eyes now open and alert, the gold's close slowly, lid after lid after lid, and a small contented sigh guides her off to her own dreams.
The Healer Journeyman turns back to the Rider at Aida's suggestion. Her shoulders stiffen at the assistant's words, and her eyes narrow a little. Of course she would do that. She watches the interaction between Rider and Dragon with clinical interest, then moves slowly towards the Rider. It will be the first time she's actually treated a Rider, and her nervousness makes her more formal, a little more stilted than she normally is. "Weyrwoman, I'm a Healer. Is there anything you would require?" She glances at the seemingly sleeping dragon quickly.
There's a light twitch of her lips in amusement, though precisely what it is she finds funny is not clarified on. Aida chuckles under her breath and turns back to her work silently. A bit more is done there, and then the aide is slipping back and turning to slide out of the infirmary entirely -- probably headed off to the stores for some bit of missing ingredient. Something!
Roa's focus slides up and over the healer as she arrives, blinking slowly. "I'm Roa," she says by way of introducing herself, her voice a little thick and rusty from the sleep. Her eyes fall onto the knot at the other woman's shoulder. Healer. Caucus. "Are you...is your name Medina?" Brows lifted, gaze moves back up to the healer's face. "Could I have some water, please? And maybe a little bit of bread?" Tialith simply sleeps on, oblivious of scrutiny.
"Yes, Medina." She glances up over the bed, and around to the small table by the bedside, looking for some clue as to whether or not this woman is allowed food and drink. Shrugs her shoulders, the clues being too obscure. "I'll get you some water. Can you sit up to take it?" Without waiting for the answer, she moves quickly, neatly away, then returns with a mug, brimming with the clear, fresh liquid.
Roa has, in the time it takes for Medina to fetch the water, pushed up her pillows so that she is, in fact, mostly upright as the healer returns. The full mug is carefully accepted, the water bobbling precariously until a few droplets slide over the edge to plip plip plop onto Roa's blanketed lap; a thing the rider pretty much ignores. Instead she brings the mug to her mouth and, in a series of long gulps, drains it dry. "Thank you. So." Lips quirk a tad up and to the left as the empty mug is settled in her lap. "What's the prognosis?"
Medina starts to assist the Weyrwoman in sitting up, sees that she doesn't require this. Notes clinically that the woman moves her throat well, and there's no audible sound of coughing when she swallows. All good signs. "I'm not sure what damage you've taken, without a thorough examination, that is. But you are awake and talking to me, and that's a good sign. May I examine you?" Medina holds her hands out.
Roa gently places the now-empty mug in Medina's extended hands and nods. "You're the Healer, after all," is the easy response, perhaps tinged just a little bit with humor. Then she lans back, watches, and waits.
Placing the mug on the bedside table, she begins the examination, ordering the Weyrwoman about with quiet efficiency. "Close one eye, good, how many fingers am I holding up. Good. Now the other eye... Now raise your right leg, that's good press against my hand, good... Any pain there? What about here. Can you feel my fingers on your leg?... I'm just drawing my nail up the inside of your foot, it might tickle..." The examination takes around twenty minutes or so. When she is finished, she takes the mug, collecting more water while she collects her thoughts. A reassuring smile lights her face as she returns. "You seem to have a concussion, but nothing that has had any lasting effect. You find yourself very sleepy? That will last for a few more days yet, maybe a sevenday, but you won't be entirely yourself for at least a month. Mostly slower thinking, and headaches." She notices the water in her hands, and gives it quickly to Roa.
The requests and the examination are followed complacently, a weyrling once again following the littlest orders given my the weurlingmaster. At the final verdict, however, Roa's brows arch in surprise. "A sevenday? A...month?" She exhales slowly, accepting the mug back and drinking from it again. Yes. Still thirsty. "How long before I can be released from the Infirmary?" The look Medina is given is one part hopeful and one part pleading.
Medina watches the woman's reaction. For the first time sees the young woman underneath the Weyrwoman. She smiles encouragement, but lifts her chin slightly. "That is more likely a decision to be made by the Healer Master." she glances over towards the door, where a guard stands, out of sight and hearing for the moment. "And that Captain of the Guards. Jensen, yes?" She tries to change topics. "What is the longest you have managed to stay awake?"
Roa groans faintly, sinking back into the pillows. "And once I'm released?" she asks, a bit defeated. And then, brows rising, she sits up. "Are there going to be, would you say, any restrictions on my flying? Or going between?" In response to Medina's question she stares up at the ceiling. "A couple hours, I think. When Tavaly and the others visited, felt like several hours before I was tired again. The Captain...I don't think he gets to decide when I leave the infirmary. Just on how many guards will be following me around when I do." The wry twist at the corner of her lips returns.
Medina shakes her head. "Again, I think these are questions to be directed toward the Master Healer. I have too little experience in what a Rider is capable of doing, and what a rider needs to do to go between." Medina's eyes drop, to concentrate on the sheets. Or through them. "I think you have to focus for going between." She looks to the Rider for confirmation. "You can't go between until you can focus your mind properly." Medina notes Roa's reaction to the mention of the guards. "Do you object to the Guards? Or to the Captain?"
Roa nods slowly as Medina discusses between and, interestingly enough, looks more intrigued than worried on that front. Huh. "I can't say I enjoy being followed by a guard, but clearly it's....necessary. The Captain does what he must to ensure the safety of those within the weyr. I have nothing but respect for him." Quite formal that, especially considering gossip in the infirmary is that the Captain didn't leave the girl's side until she first woke and that there was some hand holding going on.
Medina has heard many rumours about this Goldrider, knows there are many interpretations to any story. But everything in Roa's response suggests there is no more information to be gathered here. Her pose relaxes, she looks away, then back. "Can I get you anything else?"
The goldrider shakes her head. "No thank you," she murmurs. "And thank you for the information, and for your help." Medina is offered a final, wan little smile before she again turns her focus to the wall opposite her cot.
Noting the dismissal for what it is, Medina smiles to herself. No one can see it, but it is an honest, warm smile, full of the hope of youth. she moves quietly away from the young Goldrider curled up in her cot, and returns to the infirmary lists, the endless rounds of restocking. |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
lemedina's journal