Hey, Baby (Cath, Ruin, Boo, Reky)

Another night in the infirmary and things appeared to be settling down some. There were still a few coughs from the patients and some painful groaning from those still injured by the fire but, all in all, things were becoming steadier. Tedaon sighed as Neras came to sit on his shoulder and the two of them began making their way to the Healer Quarters. This would have been a simple enough matter had there not been an exceptionally strange sight before him.

A brown wher, thankfully not a dragon, carrying a rather large woman and a pillie bug had just barged into the Quarters. A curious matter indeed, made more curious that the wher chose to speak to those in the Infirmary. Well, not so much considering the nature of the demand. Tedaon, perhaps one of the first to react, rushed over to the woman and placed a hand on her back in an attempt to calm her.

“When did the contractions start?” He asked somewhat calmly as he carefully moved to lift the woman and carry her to a bed.

He wasn’t sure who she was only that she was a handler. Being confined to the Infirmary for quite some time now those he knew best were generally those who got injured the most. He had not, as far as he knew, had to heal this woman before so hopefully she would be a fairly good patient. Hopefully.

Tedaon knew what was wrong, of course, and started preparing himself mentally to deliver a baby half wishing some midwives were around… He sent Neras to their rooms knowing that he might be lacking in usefulness in this situation.

{ooc: feel free to shove him or something if she’s inclined that way ^^ or to also say if he did manage to get her to a bed…}

It wasn’t as if this was his plan, nor had it been the plan of whatever ill-conceived sharding wherry’s child had pushed the bale of hay from the Stablehold directly onto him without so much as a ‘bale-down!’ or ‘heads-up!’: Which of course meant the dusted child hadn’t even been Herder trained and had next to no right to be up there mucking about. Though he had probably been asked to do someone else’s chores for them—and Sebolaren would find out who exactly was to blame whenever Delilah decided he wasn’t apt to drop dead. She always did require proof, but really he suspected she just enjoyed torturing him, or perhaps strove to keep him from working properly.

”I would hope not, though if I was there would be dragonflame to pay for the inconvenience.” He spat out acridly, though he was torn between bristling and mirth at her following words which confirmed his previous assumption—so she did want him to rest. Well, there was no rest for him, not when people were busy botching things and leaving him more work to be done. ”When one drops a bale down for fodder or bedding, one is to alert any below by yelling ‘bale-down’ or in the very least a head’s up warning: Not so for whatever small child thought it would be entertaining to do it all on his own.”

He snorted, flicking his head sideways to help her tear the catching strands of dried grasses from his fluffy head of hair, ”None of those working today would make that mistake, and Atenna was quite displeased though I’m not sure she caught a look at the culprit, but I tell you what: If I find them then they’ll ha—“ the words died in his mouth as the Wherpair burst into the infirmary. The brassy tone of the Brown echoing in his head would not be denied, but Sebol knew his skills with birthing Runners would fall short here—the only thing he knew for certain about human females was that they were ill designed to birth, and there could be many complications.

As Delilah and the other Journeyman answered the call, Sebol stepped toward the side of the stone room where he wouldn’t be in the way; though certainly ready to help in whatever way he could, he doubted his services would be needed—or even appreciated. Doubtless he’d managed to knock over the beds and drop the water. Staying back was in his best interest where everything was concerned, so he did, eyes curious on the movement of the healers and the woman in labor.

"Now you be careful, alright?" Cleo grinned, tying the final knot on the youngster's bandage. "I don't care if your parents are really great cooks, you still can't run around touching pans like that. Can't cook with crispy fingers!" Normally, she wouldn't have been so morbid in her humour, but the kid looked like he could handle it. "Off you go now," she encouraged, and he hopped down from the stool and ran off. The journeywoman stood up and stretched out her back.

"Oooohh," she groaned, and green Pond mimicked her by whistling. Cleo smiled at the firelizard, who perched where the boy had been sitting. Squeak was nowhere to be seen which, for the moment, was a relief. Her two greens got along well, but Squeak was far too much of a hazard to her scalp to be called civilized company. Andry, of course, was exhausted by the both of them and slept even more than he used to. Right now, though, he was missing in action - but only for a split second more.

Huffing and puffing, the overweight brown popped out of between. He projected an urgent image of a great brown wher trashing the entrance and a familiar face with bloated belly. Squeak followed Andry and interpreted his urgency in her way of tugging Cleo's hair. The woman knew an emergency when she saw one and she had no time for her lizard. "Oh, Andry, sweet, thank you," she cooed hastily, dropping Squeak off on the stool with Pond. "Watch the girls."

She caught up with one of the midwives who had already fetched a tub of hot water and warm towels. "Oh, Janie, good," Cleo panted. "Andry just warned me." She heard Nadya's angered screaming and felt her heart tighten; who could possibly be upsetting her so? The poor thing needed to calm down. She rushed into the room to find Tedaon being pushed away, Nadysk near Delilah, and the smattering of onlookers keeping their distance. Janie set down the tub and towels and moved to help Nadya up onto the table, tucking pillows beneath her where they would help.

Cleo felt tension rising in her stomach. It wasn't precisely the way she had imagined seeing Nadya next, but her love of healing and of birth had her admiring the wherhandler even more. Even if Nadya was upset and screaming, Cleo still found her absolutely lovely. She ran redwort over her hands and forearms, the gaudy stain unsightly but sterilized. "Hey, Nadysk," she said to the big brown, offering him a smile. "Nadya." She shoved her sleeves up out of habit, even thought she had worn short sleeves that day. "Teddy, you go mind the other patients," she said to her fellow healer. She looked at the weyrling - she had seen her around the infirmary before. "Delilah, is it? You stay here."

She pulled up a tall stool once Nadya was settled, positioning herself between the woman's legs. "How're you feeling, hon?" she asked tenderly. "You keep me updated, alright?" A sweet smile spread across her lips and she made sure her firelizard headband was keeping her hair back. "You can do this."

As the wherhandler refused his help, Tedaon went a little stony faced. She was disturbing his patients and then refusing the help that might make the pain go away. When Delilah appeared he looked at her and nodded a little. If no one else turned up at least he could lead her through the theory and practical application of handling a birth. He was actually rather thankful that she had arrived all things considered. He wasn't sure that he wanted to deliver a child under these circumstances... He nodded to the wher a little and stepped aside.

Apparently things were to be fixed entirely as Cleo, one of the other Journeymen, appeared seemingly from nowhere and hurried over to the brownhandler.

Teddy?

Tedaon looked at the girl with a somewhat surprised expression. He wasn't sure what he thought of that. Did he like it? He hadn't ever been called that before. Something told him he could have been angrier about this but he kind of liked the name? Maybe? Tedaon shrugged it off as a one time thing.

"Of course, let me know if you need anything."

At that, Tedaon moved off to continue assisting their less distressed patients.

Even if the Wherhandler had wanted help from those males in the room, it wasn’t as if Sebolaren had any sort of training with human birthing; that was for Healers and women to be concerned with. It was true he’d helped at far more birthing than expected, what with his Beastcraft work, but surely human females were different than runnerbeasts. He had heard, in passing, that women were far more likely to experience complications, something to do with their body structure—an unfortunate truth, they called it. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to stick his face into the business of another person when he couldn’t in any way help, or fix, the situation. Instead, he quietly slipped behind a privacy sheet and took up residence on one of the unoccupied cots.

If things happened to go wrong, well, they could give him directions if they needed, but mostly it was important he stay out of the way—and he definitely did not want to watch. Wincing sympathetically, but having absolutely no idea how birth could feel, Sebol began to compare the sounds to what he experienced at the stable: Mares could not speak, but it seemed as if the Brownhandler was experiencing pain far and away that of a runner. Which was unfortunate, but surely it would be over soon enough, yes? Folding his hands together in his lap he waited for whatever would come, whether it was a cry for help or the cry of a newborn.