Cliff Diving for Dummies (Lesa)

[Kila]

”Owwwwowwwowwwww!”
Mine, go to the Healer’s!
No! I don’t want to. I don’t need to.
You slid down the cliff-
It’s just a scratch-
What did you think would happen if you climbed a cliff?
I was just having fun! There are no trees here to climb-
What if you broke something, MineOwn? Or if you bleed to death? Or what if it gets infected? You could get sick. You might get a fever and have to stay in bed all day. What if-
Fine! I’ll go!

Sol poked her head sullenly inside the door of the Healer’s, looking about for someone who might bandage up her arm. A large scrape ran down if from her tumble during her cliff climbing, but the wound was shallow and would heal fast enough. It was certainly not enough to set her back. She and Pratyba had had much much worse. ”Hello? she called tentively, holding her wrist as she inched in. She had been avoiding B’rak after their little…. Could she even call it an incident? Well, it had been confusing for sure. Even more so, however, she had been avoiding B’nyur. She felt guilty for having such a crush on his weyrmate, however unrequited it might be. She seemed to be safe for now, though, because the infirmary seemed to be empty. She walked around a little more freely now, looking in doors and staring curiously at the different herbs stored in jars for healing. ”Hmm,” she mused to herself cheerfully, ”Looks like no one is home.”

[lesa]

C'fael was... resting in the offices attached to the Infirmary. Alright, technically he had managed to fall asleep while busy writing his latest injury report. That was Ansyth's fault, the brown sleeping serenely at his feet - unwilling to leave HisC'fael alone when he was doing interesting Healer-things. C'fael had to make sure everything was ship shape for B'nyur and A'mor, otherwise the grayrider would like as not have his head. The soft call barely brushed his senses, sleepy as he was. Basker of course, odd Black as he was, wasn't asleep. Or drugged, or anything. Nope.

Basker was wide awake, and raring for the chance to have someone new to play with. But of course, His had to be awake for anything to happen. That was how C'fael found himself blearily swatting at a dive-bombing, raucously chittering firelizard. "G'way, Basker." the Weyrling muttered, until he heard distinct - sounds in the main Infirmary. A patient! And he wasn't prepared! Oh Faranth, no! He was on A'mor's good side, and he wanted to stay that way, one didn't make Master Dragonhealer in early thirties by being jovial and good natured all the time.

Luck was on his side as the blond bolted from his seat, nearly tripping over Ansyth and headbutting the hovering Basker. He was perfectly dressed for dealing with a patient, aside from washing his hands again. Normal clean, dark clothes that would hide blood or anything, Weyrling knots on one shoulder, Healer knots on the other. Just had to rebutton his collar - and there!

Gray eyes assessed his patient quickly as he strode into the main Infirmary. Looked about his age, hair a blond-brown tumble down her back, eyes bright with curiosity, a blue-gray that he was used to seeing behind spectac - shardit! This Rider was not Gwynell, brain, stop making comparisons! Gwynell was back at Fort, deliriously happy with her Craft and her brownrider mate. Besides, her hair was pin straight, not - sharditall! A wave of calm affection from Ansyth got him to relax, and he smiled to the Rider, undoing the tie closing his hip-pouch even while reaching out and seizing Basker before the Black took it upon himself to dive into the interesting hair of the girl in front of them.

"Sorry about that, Cyanrider, I was just busy in the office," he grinned, "I'll take a look at your arm, then, if you'll take a seat," he gestured to the chair near the 'quick fix' table; numbweed jar, bandages, thread, needles, tweezers and soft cloths laid out. Could take care of most minor injuries with what was there and soap and water, certainly made everything easier with it all ready. "Weyrling C'fael, late of Healer Hall at your service." A short bow, pacifying Basker with a piece of jerky as he rose, the lizard now content to just sit on his shoulder.