Healing [OPEN]

[turkoizdog]

It had been a few weeks since the dual hatching, and while many had left the infirmary, Pyrus stayed. The others had healed and left, having begun their weyrlinghood or wherlinghood, but Pyrus had become intimately comfortable with the infirmary, perhaps more comfortable than many of those who had lived at Dalibor for years, and he had been there less than two turns.

Many of the lessons were on things Pyrus was able to practice from the infirmary. The lessons on wher knowledge covered things he was able to read about in books, and he could practice mental communication with Pyrusk as they sat in his bed. But basic care, like feeding and oiling his new baby wher, was difficult, particularly given the fact that he was now missing a limb.

It was difficult, Pyrus found, to work on his bond with Pyrusk while his left arm was bandaged up. He was glad that it was his left and not his dominant right hand -- this made things like eating a little easier -- but he had never realized how many things he did in daily life that required two hands. Even reading was difficult, though he had gotten used to using his stump to hold the book in place while his right hand turned the pages. He was lucky Pyrusk was so small; the blue's devotion to him meant he was always willing to help, and between him and pets Fez and Ivy, Pyrus found that nothing he had to do just yet was too difficult.

Some of Pyrus's friends had visited. Many he knew from Holdless days had ended up in the infirmary, if briefly, due to their own traumas from the hatching. Even a couple of those who didn't need healing stopped by, whether because they hat watched the hatching, or because they had heard of the rumors of another handless wherling and wanted to know if it was true. His reputation, it seemed, preceded himself, and while he felt himself not interesting enough to live up to it, Pyrusk did take the opportunity to flirt with any female -- healer, visitor, wher or dragon -- who happened to enter the infirmary.

Currently, Pyrus found himself reading a bit on the history of Pern, trying to catch up on things he would have learned in school when he was Holdless. The large book was propped up against his stump, and his hand held it open so he could see every map, every diagram. Fez and Ivy were curled up on the pillow next to him, taking a bit of a nap, and Pyrusk sat eagerly at the end of the bed, making big eyes at the pretty healer lady on the other side of the room, trying to get her to notice him.

[Zephyr]

Coming to Dalibor on the tail end of the most destructive hatching in history meant that he had plenty of work to keep his mind off of things. It also meant that he was forced to deal with things that he probably would have avoided like the plague in everyday life. Like baby dragons…and whers. Silas figured his fear of the beasts was pretty justifiable, what with the fact that dragons and whers were the cause of most if not all of the injuries at the hatching.

Still, he was a healer, and he had to deal with them if they got in the way of his duties. Case-in-point, the boy who’d had his hand gnawed off at the hatching. Silas had looked over his chart after he’d gotten over the initial dread of the little blue wher perched at the foot of the kid’s bed. He knew that the things weren’t as dangerous once they were bonded, but constant vigilance was the motto the healer lived by…and the kid probably should have left the infirmary already. Silas wondered if he was still in here because he wasn’t emotionally ready to leave.

He realized, in pretty short order, that he was due to check on the kid. Doesn’t mean that he had to be happy about it. Instead of taking his frustrations out on the patients though, he preferred to scream at the other healers. This time, it was the pretty woman near the door he’d come in on. She hadn’t been doing anything particularly incompetent, but this whole infirmary was run completely backwards from what he was used to, so it was a pretty good guess that she was doing something wrong. “What are you even doing here?” He growled at the apprentice, the veins in his neck throbbing ominously, and his eyebrows were doing seriously crazy things. She blinked at him, stuttered something inaudible, and that only seemed to make the healer more angry.

Needless to say, the woman sent him a glare and scurried away. Silas watched her go, breathing heavily, his face a curious shade of purple. It wasn’t immediately clear if she left because she was terrified of the crazy journeyman, or if she just thought he might explode or something and wanted to make sure she was out of the way when it happened. Either way, it was just Silas and the kid, and he was taking his time walking up there because that wher was looking at him, okay?

He took his time, but eventually he walked up to the boy’s bedside. It looked like he was ignoring the wher entirely, but if one was watching closely, they would see that he was actively veering away from it, trying to put as much distance between it and he as possible while he came up to the head of the bed. Then, without speaking, he grabbed Pyrus’ hand, heedless of whether he disturbed the boy’s reading or not and began to unwrap the bandage. It was strange, but for how gruff and unpredictable the man was in his actions, he was surprisingly gentle with his injured hand.

After the old bandage was discarded, he studied the healing hand, decided it was healing well before he cleaned the wound and began to bandage it back up again. All this time, he’d been completely silent, until he wasn’t. His voice had that growly tone that seemed to be perpetually in Silas’ voice, but it was softer, the anger not there for the moment. “You’ll have to leave sometime.” He said without even looking at the boy.

[turkoizdog]

Pyrus was used to getting a certain amount of sympathy from most of the healers, particularly the younger ones, such as the apprentices. Silas, however, was one he pinpointed right away as a perpetual grump. At first, Pyrus has assumed that it was because he was Holdless, but over the while he'd been in the infirmary, he noted it wasn't just him and the other Holdless who Silas would act this way toward. It was everyone.

The way Silas growled at the apprentice was proof enough, and made Pyrus's heart attempt to hide further in his ribcage. She hadn't done anything wrong! Or so he thought. He was back to reading his book until Silas came up next to him, grabbing his stump of a hand, which slammed it shut.

Pushing his reading aside, he used his hand to pull Ivy, his pink pillie, into his lap, slowly stroking her shell as she slept. If you listened closely, you could hear a low rumbling noise coming from her, like she was mumbling in her sleep.

You’ll have to leave sometime
He had heard Silas, and nodded, staying silent for a bit. "Sometime." he finally echoed back, deliberately not looking over as Silas changed his bandage. The bandages helped, in a way, as they prevented him from being able to see the damage directly. As long as there were bandages, he assumed there was still healing to be done, and he didn't want to see the end of his stump where his hand had been. It was too strange, especially when he'd wake up in the middle of the night, feeling an itch on his phantom hand, but unable to scratch. Like a recurring nightmare, but real.

It was strange, the infirmary, because although he had been there for weeks, the first few days had been hard. As a candidate and as a Holdless, he was forced to take care of himself, but once he was in the infirmary, it was he who was being taken care of. And Pyrus couldn't remember the last time he had anyone else to take care of him.