Post by lesa on Dec 22, 2010 0:02:14 GMT -5
That was it. He was done with his shift. For once, or maybe it was for fourth, he wasn't going to stay later. He was simply going to leave. Leave the Infirmary, have dinner at a normal time and go to bed. Oh shells, his bed. It would be amazing.
First time he'd slept in it for a week - he'd been stuck taking naps on the cot in the back of the Infirmary, between shifts and Wingdrills and emergencies that needed more than one Healer. Had to be because it was spring, everyone was going crazy to be outside. Three broken legs, two broken arms, four potential concussions and a large variety of bleeders or scrapes. And that was just the Weyrbrats.
He yawned, brushing blond curls out of his eyes with clean hands. Or mostly clean hands, nothing to be done about the slight tinge of redwort-staining they'd gotten. At least it wasn't blood, and at least they weren't numb from numbweed. Be good to get some hot food, and then get to bed. It would really be amazing to sleep. He'd been taken off the Infirmary roster for the weekend. A'mor wasn't angry about what he'd done, just displeased that C'fael had let himself get so rundown. C'fael knew he had gotten off lightly. Only because Noyth hadn't clutched yet did he survive - well, that and the fact that Ansyth hadn't Chased. That would have made things awkward had the brown won.
Shuffling his way into the dining hall, his eyes widened at the cacophony of sounds that met his ears. It was so loud, even after the Infirmary. He sank down onto the nearest bench, a gaggle of limbs. Bleary gray eyes blinked out at the table from where he rested his head on his arms. All he wanted to do was eat and go sleep. That's all, eat and sleep. Now he just had to get up the energy to either flag down a drudge (which he hated doing - he could get his own food perfectly fine!) or get up and go to the kitchens. Even flagging down a drudge sounded exhausting. Ugh.[/size]
First time he'd slept in it for a week - he'd been stuck taking naps on the cot in the back of the Infirmary, between shifts and Wingdrills and emergencies that needed more than one Healer. Had to be because it was spring, everyone was going crazy to be outside. Three broken legs, two broken arms, four potential concussions and a large variety of bleeders or scrapes. And that was just the Weyrbrats.
He yawned, brushing blond curls out of his eyes with clean hands. Or mostly clean hands, nothing to be done about the slight tinge of redwort-staining they'd gotten. At least it wasn't blood, and at least they weren't numb from numbweed. Be good to get some hot food, and then get to bed. It would really be amazing to sleep. He'd been taken off the Infirmary roster for the weekend. A'mor wasn't angry about what he'd done, just displeased that C'fael had let himself get so rundown. C'fael knew he had gotten off lightly. Only because Noyth hadn't clutched yet did he survive - well, that and the fact that Ansyth hadn't Chased. That would have made things awkward had the brown won.
Shuffling his way into the dining hall, his eyes widened at the cacophony of sounds that met his ears. It was so loud, even after the Infirmary. He sank down onto the nearest bench, a gaggle of limbs. Bleary gray eyes blinked out at the table from where he rested his head on his arms. All he wanted to do was eat and go sleep. That's all, eat and sleep. Now he just had to get up the energy to either flag down a drudge (which he hated doing - he could get his own food perfectly fine!) or get up and go to the kitchens. Even flagging down a drudge sounded exhausting. Ugh.[/size]
