An Annoying Trip to the Infirmary [Fide]

[Nia]

I didn't mean to, Mine....

[/i]

I know you didn't.

Please don't be mad.[/i]

I'm not mad.

You sound mad....[/i]

Engrye gave a small sigh as she looked over the lightly colored Cyan's tail. There was a rather large gash along the side of it, and the sullen-eyed red-haired girl was trying to get a better look at it. Stop moving, Desearth. Engrye said flatly, but the Cyan kept wiggling her tail around. Sorry, Mine. It just really hurts.[/i] The Cyan didn't want to cause Hers any trouble, but she couldn't help twitching her tail out of Engrye's hands. It just hurt too much! She was sorry, though, and Engrye knew that.

She sat up, looking up at the ceiling of her room. This was annoying. She couldn't help Desearth because she had no idea what she was doing, and she'd never claimed to be a Dragonhealer. Nor did she really want to be one, to be honest. She didn't like interacting with people all that much. They were annoying. And she didn't want to have their condecending gazes on her, wondering just how she managed to hurt her dragon like that. Not like it was either of their faults, or anything, the Cyan just happened to be moving her tail around like any young dragonet and ran it into something sharp.

Mine? I think we should go to the Healers,[/i] Desearth said, nudging hers. Engrye looked at the dragon, then back up at the ceiling. Faranth.... she muttered, but slowly got to her feet, Alright. Let's go. She said simply, starting to walk out of her room. Desearth followed behind, dantily dragging her tail in an attempt to not hit it against anything and disturb the cut any more than it already was. Engrye shot worried glances back at the dragon occassionally, but wasn't too worried. It didn't hurt all that much, or it'd be hurting Engrye as well. Either that or the Cyan was trying to hide her pain from Hers... but Engrye didn't really think that was possible.

It didn't take long for them to find the Infirmary, and Engrye poked a hesitant head inside before walking in. Desearth looked excited to be there, she was always happy to see someone respectable, and Healers certainly did require a lot of her respect. She kept close to Engrye, not wanting to mess up anything. "Hello? I'm a Weyrling, and my dragon cut her tail. Can we get some help?" she asked hesitantly, not entirely sure how to go about asking for help. She didn't like it, and if she knew how, she probably would have patched up Desearth herself. Asking for help was demeaning.[/blockquote][/size]

[fidelli]

A'mor was beginning to hate the infirmary. It wasn't actually true - he dedicated his whole life to the place, after all, and Noyth only sat on him when he began to complain too much, but still. He hated it in cycles - when a group of hatchlings began to wander around the Weyr, he really began to bitch. It was his Infirmary, in all regulations. He was the Masterhealer here, and between B'nyur and him, they had it pretty regulated. Recently a new Weyrling had come in with a Senior Apprentice level in Healing, which A'mor had appreciated - even if he would never say it. He was a Dragonhealer after all... Although, with the two and a half turns of practice on humans he was seriously considering going back for his knots for Journeyman Healer. There just had never been any Healer's eager to move to Dalibor, and the only two Healer's both happened to Dragonhealers. So, B'nyur and him and quickly got their crash course in humans...

And by now, it was just habit. Anyway, onto his rant. He hated when the Weyrlings first started, because often, their dragonets would drag them into the infirmary for the silliest things, or the humans had let their dragonet's do the silliest things. F'del and W'al couldn't be everywhere at once either, so it left him and Noyth to deal with them. The silent Gray often offered to eat them - of course only to him - and he was tempted to say yes sometimes. Plus, with the candidates running around they had tried to give him some to do the more menial chores... Which they all shockingly messed up anyway. He had kicked some moron out, with an odd name. Harper? Hager? Hater? Eh, he didn't care that much. He just hated them all.

Noyth stirred suddenly, from where she had been napping in her couch. As Queen of the Infirmary - where she ruled quite firmly - she paid attention for A'mor when they started to arrive. Hm. Vistors. You've met them, and the young one was hurt. Noyth, ever the chatty one, didn't say anything more. With a growl, A'mor rose. He had been enjoying himself, cat napping on one of the couches - and now this. I know them? How by the first egg do I know them? The Gray only sat up, twitching her tail. Temper, dear Mine. Grumping about foolish Grays, he was leaning against one of the counters when the Weyrling peered in. 'Hello? I'm a Weyrling, and my dragon cut her tail. Can we get some help?'

"Oh. Noyth, you were right." The dragon snorted, and rose, padding over to the dragonet. Greetings, little one. I am Noyth. A'mor meanwhile, gave a half smile to the girl who had walked in. "Engrye, right? Of course we can help - bring Desearth over here. What happened, exactly." He had already gestured over to where he was and had bent down, allowing Noyth to follow after her and coil behind Her's like some overgrown feline. She was actually shorter than Her's at the shoulder, but her neck and head craned above him, and the silent dragon watched.

[Nia]

Standing there awkwardly was something Engrye really did not like, and had never liked. The feeling of awkwardness should have been normal to her by now, but she could never get used to something like that. Waiting was especially awkward with Desearth constantly looking back at her tail and fretting about it in both their minds. Desearth, please stop. It'll be fine, she attempted to calm the dragon down as to not seem like a complete idiot in front of the Infirmary staff. It isn't stupid to care,

[/i] Desearth said firmly. Engrye gave an agitated sigh, but didn't bother trying to convince Desearth of her hateful ways anymore. She'd given up on that when she'd first Impressed. Desearth seemed happy... but then again, she always seemed happy.

Whatever conversation they were going to have was cut off anyway as the Gray dragon stood. Engrye watched with narrowed eyes as the Queen of the Infirmary rose from where she'd been napping. Huh... maybe it wasn't so hard to be a Healer afterall, if all they did was sleep. They do a lot of good, so they deserve a nap sometimes,[/i] Desearth commented, the pain in her tail making her even more appreciative of the Healers than she would have been, which was saying something. It took a few seconds for Engrye to actually remember the agitated man that was now approaching. Ah... he was A'mor, the man she'd talked to at the Feast... you know, before everything went to hell and back. They hadn't had a lot of time to talk, but she'd liked what she'd heard of him. He seemed like her... with his annoyed outlook towards other people, that is.

Not that it really mattered now. Her mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile, but she kept her usual, calm, emotionless expression instead. The red-haired girl nodded. "Yeah, Engrye," she affirmed her name and walked Desearth over to where A'mor was waiting. The Cyan wasn't at all apprehensive, she completely trusted A'mor to treat her well. He was a Healer! Their job was to fix things like her tail! Plus, Noyth was so pretty! Hello Noyth![/i] she greeted cheerfully, her sunny disposition not at all dampered by the gash in ther tail, I like how nice and clean it is in here.[/i] It didn't matter if Noyth was going to respond to her or not, Desearth just liked to compliment others.

Engrye gave a small sigh, "We were walking around, going back to our room, when she hit her tail against something sharp.... I'm not sure what," she said, looking at her dragon again, I... apologize for bothering you with such a trite matter. We haven't gone over how to patch small wounds yet. The apology was rather painful to get out, but she had to say it. She hated talking to people in general, and she really didn't like being a bother to anyone. Except people that really, really annoyed her... they got the full brunt of her wit. But A'mor wasn't one of those people.[/blockquote][/size]

[fidelli]

Standing awkward was not something that A’mor liked either. It was why he liked the Infirmary, he believed. He was more powerful here – he ruled here, and he never had to feel confused or awkward. It was just simple.

It was much harder to be a Healer than what it seemed to the regular people – A’mor just happened to like napping and not doing the records he should have been doing. Normally, he avoided them like the plague and only did them at the end of the month when they were pretty much due. Noyth napped more often than he did, and half the time she was just pretending. But he did recognize this Weyrling as he strode over. It was the girl that seemed to be just as annoyed with as people as he was. He wasn’t as bad as she was – he got loads better when he liked someone, and even sweetened out, but when he was in Healer mode he tended to dislike pretty much everyone.

‘Yeah, Engrye.’ He nodded as she confirmed her name, but was already more focused on the dragonet. She was a beautiful Cyan, and by what Noyth thought, was just a sweet little girl. He was watching the tail, scanning it and only half thinking about Enrye standing there. She didn’t seem to be nervous at all either, completely complacent in his hands. He did like that.

Hello Noyth! I like how nice and clean it is in here. The Gray craned her head around to sniff delicately at the Cyan that was bubbling happy at her. She really was such a happy little thing. Hello Desearth. Thank you – it is a nice place. That was all she said, but it was more than she usually said. The happy dragonet didn’t deserve for her to grump at her, being so strong and brave under Her’s.

‘We were walking around, going back to our room, when she hit her tail against something sharp.... I'm not sure what.’ The Rider only Hmmmm, and kept scanning the wound, prodding around the edge. ‘I... apologize for bothering you with such a trite matter. We haven't gone over how to patch small wounds yet.’ That called his attention – her hesitancy and her irritation called him back to focus on the girl and he mentally cursed his awkwardness at dealing with people. “It’s fine. It’s what we are here for, and it’s not trite. It’s deep enough that it will require stitches. You did the right thing, Weyrling.”

He cursed himself again. He actually thought that she was rather cute, but Weyrlings were off limits and the whole Weyr knew that. They were the one thing that was taboo, and no one touched them. The dragonets were too risky, too precious. So he just coughed and rose, letting Noyth daintily lick the Cyan’s cheek. You are a tough dragonet. This is will hurt a little, but not too much.

He worked quickly, with single minded precision. The needle, threaded, a bit of numbweed spread around the outside. The needle was into the hide fast, and he worked meticulously and neatly, two three four five six tiny stictches into the fat and the flesh before knotting it quickly and cutting it. More numbweed over the cut, so that it didn’t hurt anymore than it had to, and he rose again to go wash his hands. “There. I’m sorry Desearth, if that hurt anymore than it had to.” Noyth, who had hovered over the Cyan incase she had to press her down, nudged her softly and retreated back.

You are indeed a brave Cyan. Tell Your’s immediately if it begins to hurt, and she will put more numbweed on it. Meanwhile, A’mor had turned back to the Weyrling. “Numbweed it when she says it hurts, make sure you oil are there too – extra if you have too. It’ll itch more often than she’s used to. Umm, any questions? Either of you?”