==== September 22, 2013
==== Aife, Alyei, Th'seus
==== Alyei has a broken finger. Th'seus get admitted for a dizzy spell. Aife gets to treat them both, even though she's not authorized to.

Who Aife, Alyei, Th'seus
What Alyei has a broken finger. Th'seus get admitted for a dizzy spell. Aife gets to treat them both, even though she's not authorized to.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 0 days until the 12th pass.
Where Infirmary, Southern Weyr

Aife4.jpg aly13.jpg Th'seus21.jpg


The clutter has been removed, and the Healers have moved in: even now the hearth has been commandeered to make more of that soothing tissane that aids in sinuses unused to Southern's allergens; shiny tables of oldtime metal have been moved in from being found unused in storage, acting well as examining slabs. Curtains section off areas, and the general waiting area is on the far side from the hearth, to maximize coolness in the dead-air heat of Southern's interior.

There’s plenty of healers about in the infirmary that Aife’s presence is likely not needed – but, she’s here. Her mass of curls can be seen towards the back of the room, handing off a cup of something to one of the patients in one of the open curtain sections before returning to the small table topped with supplies. It looks like she’s been put to work reorganizing, something that she’s not exactly looking eager to be doing this evening.

A head pops into view, peeking around the corner from the caverns, surveying the mess of healers on duty tonight. It's just on the verge of disappearing again, just about to pop back around the corner, when the owner of the mass of curls turns and reveals itself to be Aife. And this is apparently a good thing, since the owner of the peeking head - namely, Alyei - decides this is a good time to actually come into the infirmary. She gives some helpful aide a flat stare when the woman asks if she needs some help and crosses to where the curly-haired healer is facing her chores. "So, can you fix this?" she asks without preface, thrusting a swollen right hand in between Aife and the table full of supplies.

That healer throws a heavy frown towards the whom of Alyei’s destination, looking about to interject when another healer lures her away. Aife misses it all. She’s gathering all the clean bandages together into her hands when she finds that swollen hand in her face, causing her to pause all activity. “Damn, what happened to you?” is her immediate greeting, peering down at the bruise as she drops the bandages back on the table. Glancing up briefly at her as she reaches to gently touch a single finger towards it, “Who’d you slug, girl?”

Alyei, not so much with the good lying, "No one, I hit it on a doorknob." It's obviously a practiced response and comes out more like 'nooneIhititonadoorknob' rather than a series of distinct and separate words. Perhaps of its own accord, the had floats away from Aife's prodding finger at the same rate that the finger is approaching it, like magnets with the same polarity, impossible to get them into contact with each other. "It's broken, though," she adds with certainty, with authority. "So I need something to make it quit hurting and for the swelling and probably a splint. Can you do that stuff?" With the hopeful.

Passing Alyei a look as she leans toward it, “Must’ve slammed it pretty hard,” Aife murmurs to herself more than to her, still trying to touch it. “Broken, huh? Sure about that?” Lifting her finger away, “Can you flex it for me?” she asks now, lacking the authority in her tone; instead, it’s curiosity – and, with a look briefly going beyond the apprentice’s head, there’s indication to suggest she knows she’s being watched. “Just stretch out the fingers if you can, then close it back. Have you punched out someone before?” Why that matters is anyone’s guess. “You look like a girl that could.”

With her lips pressed, Alyei just nods - yep, pretty hard - and then nods again, actually going so far as to speak this time, "Pretty sure," that it's broken. She gives flexing it a real fighting shot, bending three of her fingers sloooooowly over, but shaking her head at the stubbornness of her index finger, which doesn't seem to feel like complying. She leaves it in a pseudo-fist and shrugs, what can ya do?, and addresses the matter of her and the punching: "Out cold? Not yet. You gonna get in trouble?" She looks down at the stuff that Aife was supposed to be doing before having her attention demanded by certain pushy herders.

Aife is watching as she speaks, nodding when fingers bend save for the index one. “Well,” she decides to say after awhile, leaning back, “looks like that finger needs to be splint, at least. We can put some numbweed on it first. I had a hit like that long before,” she explains with a shrug. “Punched out someone. Healed back alright. Fixed it myself,” and she raises her right hand, wiggling the fingers there for Alyei to see even though one can see there’s a scar over two of the knuckles. When the apprentice brings up the watching healers, Aife looks beyond her and states with deliberate non-chalance “Oh, I’m not suppose to be treating anybody right now. They rather wait until they get some stupid proof from Master Tiranir before I should touch anybody around here but SHE’S A FRIEND!” That last part goes to the slowly approaching (and clearly disapproving) healer. She gestures towards Alyei and tosses a hand out, which at least stops the woman in her tracks. “She’s just visiting. She also just happens to have something to show me.” To Alyei, she rolls her eyes and bends down to fish for one of the small pots of numbweed salve.

Compare and contrast - Alyei looks at Aife's healed hand, down at her own unhealed one, back up, back down. Hmm. "How do you fix it yourself?" she asks (for future reference), nodding about the idea of numbweed. Yes, some of that. It doesn't seem to impact her intent to have Aife help with her current injury, but she does ask, "Oh, so they think you might be a fake healer? You think she might be a fake healer?" She asks the latter toward the woman, and then turns back to Aife with a careless shrug. "Whatever, you probably don't have to go to Healer Hall to know how to put on some numbweed and a splint anyway." It's a vote of confidence of sorts.

“Numbweed and keeping it out of trouble,” is Aife’s easy answer to healing. “Heal it just in time to get in trouble again. You said ‘not yet’. Is there someone here looking to be punched? For future reference.” She has the numbweed salve there on the table and she’s gently applying it while she speaks, shrugging on the question of her being a fake healer. “Well, they claim that they never got a note from the Hall, saying that I was to be posted here,” she explains as casually as if she was talking about the weather. “I’ve seen the note. It could have gotten lost. Whatever. I bet my left tit that I’ll do so good here, that by the time any letter arrives it wouldn’t even matter. They’ll be so grateful that I’m here. Just you wait.” Just they wait, even. The healer woman in question is eyeing Aife and Alyei something fierce, but after a long, tense moment of it, she slowly turns and walks away. Aife watches her go with a snort and a “The rest of them don’t even care except for her. Screw it. I’m damn good at what I do,” she states firmly, pulling her fingers away to make sure the salve covers the whole bruised area. Now she turns to the broken finger, rummaging through the box of things to the side before finding a shaved and flattened piece of wood.

Alyei bears up pretty well through all this, considering her total cowardice about having the injured area so much as touched by a finger. She screws up her face a little, and her teeth grit, but she doesn't try to runaway (or punch Aife), which is good! Her hand just kind of hovers there while she listens, snorting a laugh at the left-tit bit, turning her eyes rather than her head to watch the grumpy healer walk away. "Bet you wouldn't need a note at all if you were a boy," she posits with the grumpy certainty that marks so many female crafters. "But why don't you just ask them to send a new one or something? I mean, instead of waiting for one that's lost or whatever?" As for whether or not someone needs to be punched… enh, it's less topical than Aife's predicament, seems.

“Exactly,” Aife agrees with a significant look going to Alyei on men and notes. She sets the broken, salved finger as gently as she can above the flatwood, reaching for something to tie it secure as she says, “Bet they can just skip right on in here in a loincloth and get believed to be about their skill. Trust me, something’s coming.” She’s not worried about it, in the least. “In the meantime, I’m here, showing them what I can do. I’m not worried about impressing that one.” It’s a small, light bandage keeping the wood in place so that the finger doesn’t get disrupted, the healer working fast and light as she talks. “Might need to take it easy for awhile on the fields until that finger is working again,” she gives after a moment more, making sure the splint is secured. “The rest will heal in no time. If it don’t, you can always come back and see me regardless of what anyone thinks. Cool?” Now she slowly leans back, studying her work with a nod.

There are healers around the room doing healer stuff, one of them is Aife. Doing healer stuff to Alyei. Specifically, the herder is having her hand tended to, a splint and a bandage to hold the splint in place, all this being done near a table that's got a lot of supplies on it that don't seem related to the immediate matter of the herder's injury. "I'll figure it out," Alyei assures, turning her hand this way and that to examine the splint with a thoughtful frown, testing the use of her unsplinted fingers by trying to do something easy - help put the lid on the numbweed put or something. "Thanks. I'll give you a good review. If anyone ever asks me, anyways." She sounds pretty doubtful that would ever happen, and the brittleness of her amusement comes through in her dry snicker.

Sneaking a glance over at one healer in question while securing the finishing touches on the splint, “You do seem resourceful,” Aife notes, lifting both fingers from Alyei’s broken finger. “And, well, is one that doesn’t pay attention. A door injury. I would have totally played this one up to having slugged a guy for coping a feel or something.” She’s done, though. She watches Alyei with the lid, nodding at her handiwork as she says, “Make sure you play me up, right? Like, ‘that one healer blows all the other ones out of the water’, things like that. In case they ask. You’re done with work for the day?” She’s not, judging by the messy table they’re at.

"I'm fine. I just need to drink some more water, I don't need a full work up." That would be the sound of Th'seus deep voice echoing in complaint across the cavern as one of the Wingleader's from another wing ushers him along inside. "You do or else you damn well know Q'fex will hand your ass to you for not coming here." The other man stays just long enough to feel reassured that the bronzerider isn't going take off and run into the bowl. And Lynx's 'leader looks fine, just a little pale and drawn as he sits waiting at the edge of one of the chairs. His long legs bent up at the knees with his elbows dropped onto them, like some overgrown little boy.

"Nah, that's why I carry a knife." After fumbling with the lid to the numbweed pot, Alyei reaches down to pat the hilt of said knife lightly with her good fingers, trying the button that holds it holstered and finding that - bandages or not - she can still manage that bit, anyway. "Totally, the only healer that could've - " She stops, never really getting to the bit about her day's workload, hearkening to a new pair of voices, voices that don't sound anything like healers. And there be the source, the two Wingleaders, though it's only one of them that's still there by the time she really finds and focuses on them. Her finger splint makes using that hand to point pretty easy, and she does so, swinging her hand through Aife's field of vision toward where Th'seus has parked himself.

A knife? Aife looks right where Alyei shows her attached knife, her interest showing on her face. “Where did you get it? How much? I had one, too, but I lost it back in-“ words stop right when the commotion has her leaning over past the herder apprentice to look. That it’s known other than her brother draws a brow from her, catching the finger-point from her with a nod. Already the pretty female healer that they don’t like is approaching Th’seus with a smile and once-over, asking, “Wingleader. Anything I can help you with?” No, that won’t do. Aife’s already ‘psst’-ing loudly towards Th’seus, trying to get his attention from her along with a jerky nod for him to come over should he catch her. She’s even out of her chair.

"No, I just like to hang around in the infirmary and sit in the chairs. They're very comfortable." Th'seus replies dryly to the pretty female healer that the other women don't like. He barely even looks up at her as he waits for the next round of inevitable questioning. In doing so he turns his head just enough to catch the 'psst'-ing that drifts over to him from Aife and Alyei. He narrows his eyes and shifts to locate the sound of the noise. The woman giving him the once over is flashed a not-so-apologetic smile as he gets to his feet, blinks a little uneasily at the change in altitude and ditches her back there by his chair. The younger girl with his sister is given a more polite reception than the stranger behind him, "Hello." As for his blood relation, "I'm not dying."

Alyei, given a polite reception, reacts to it with a nod that's polite… ish? It's not rude, anyway, but it's pretty clear that the vast social gulf between 'girl herder apprentice' and 'man Wingleader' is insurmountable. So she just shoves a well-rehearsed, "Sir," in there and steps around the corner of the table, holding the splinted hand behind her back and lightly touching the things on the table with her good hand, like she's going to be helpful and do something with them. Which she isn't. She's very probably just waiting for an appropriate moment to book-out.

The healer looks miffed for having her services being rebuffed again for the second time, so if she happens to be really looking back towards the curly haired healer in the back – to whom Th’seus is suddenly heading towards – with a heavier frown, so be it. At least Aife’s not sticking out her tongue at her. Settling back down in her chair with a little wave of her fingers towards her brother once he arrives, “Ali, this is Th’seus,” she dispenses with the introductions, pointing from one to the other. “She’s craft, like me. She’s cool.” That, to Th’seus. “Th’seus, this is Ali. He’s my brother. It’s obvious that I’m the better-looking sibling of the bunch.” That, to Alyei. When Alyei backs from the table, the healer shakes her head to her and adds, “You aren’t leaving, are you? You’re going to let this one scare you?” She’s guessing. She could be teasing her, too. Deference and all. Th’seus’ last gets a snort from her and a wave towards one of the chairs before her for him to sit as she says, “Don’t say that loud around here. That woman over there’s eyeing you pretty hard as if you could be dying. What’s wrong?”

"She's a healer too?" Th'seus asks the question as he's look at the splint on Alyei's finger and only after, glancing towards where a shoulder knot may reside. Of course realizing that it's not that of the Healer Hall, "Herder, right. At least you don't have to involuntarily spend your time with my sister?" The wingleader is polite, much in the way that most thirty-something turn old men are in regards to teenager girls. "That's subjective. And anyway, Aife is adopted so it makes sense we don't look anything alike." He manages something like a teasing grin as he drops down heavily into a nearby chair. "I'm hardly the scary one." Says the tall, hairy and vaguely unhappy looking man. "I had a dizzy spell at the end of our drills. I do feel sort of tired. But I probably just need some more water, sleep. The jungle gets to you."

Leaving? Yes, Alyei nods at that, as well as the bit about Th'seus being Aife's brother, info she already had. But letting this one scare her? "I'm not scared, just - " Something inarticulate, something she attempts to explain by the wave of her left hand to Th'seus's presence, here, in the infirmary. She doesn't weigh in on the subjective attractiveness of either sibling with anything more than an innocent expression and the pointing of her eyes everywhere but at the two of them, as if to prove she has absolutely no opinion on the matter. Where she will weigh in is whether or not he's the scary one, and then she chimes in with an under-her-breath parrot of, "That's subjective."

There’s a slight frown from Aife as Alyei tries to explain, watching that left hand being waved towards Th’seus. At the last, even, “Oh, he just looks scary because he’s so,” and she gestures at his size, really. As if he’s not there. But he is, enough to have her frowning heavily at him for his comment on her being adopted. “I’m going to assume that’s code for how grateful you are that I’m here,” she says blithely. “Anyway, you said you got dizzy? Have you been getting any sleep lately? Do I need to go up and check on you every night or something?” Cuz, she will. “What are you doing out in the jungle for that long?” She assumes he’s out long enough to get dizzy. Already she’s leaning back for the pitcher of cool water and a cup, glancing from him to Alyei and back again.

At the parroting of 'That's subjective', Th'seus narrows dark eyes onto Alyei which really does not help with attempting to not look scary. Doesn't help at all. There's a quiet little grunt from the man before he shifts his attention back onto his sister where an eyebrow arches high. "Because I'm so?" He invites her to finish before waving off the rest of her spoken concerns. "Sure, I've been sleeping. Maybe a little distracted by all this extra drilling we've been doing, nothing I can't handle." Says the dizzy man. And as for her checking on him at night, "Oh, not. That will not be necessary at all." He clarifies, quickly holding up both hands rather comically. "We do drills over the jungle sometimes. It's hot here you know. I'm sure it's just a mild case of heat exhaustion." It's FINE. …Right?

Alyei withstands the narrowed eyes with commendable spine, straightening up and issuing back a challenging raise of her chin, totally proving how not scared she is. Also how not smart she is, but whatevs. Thankfully, he goes back to focusing his attention on Aife before her tough facade crumbles, and she breathes out a slow exhale, waiting for an appropriate moment to slide in a quiet, "Thanks," toward Aife, taking the splinted hand out from behind her back to illustrate what the thanks is supposed to be for. While they're discussing Th'seus and the jungle, she slips off, fiddling with her beltknife scabbard. Freud'd have a field day.

“You know, I could keep you here for a day or two, just for observations,” Aife muses on her brother – as if she has the authority. She sets the pitcher of water down along with a spare cup and starts to pour, hearing the quiet thanks from Alyei with a curious nod. And she does notice her slip out free with a lingering small frown to see her off, but once she’s out of earshot, “Because you’re so mean,” is her quick, teasing finish, flashing him a grin. “Still. Drink some water. I’m sure there’s more to it if your wingmates had to drag you in here, Ressie.” Then, starting to pack up the bandages and things off the table into the box to the side, “I know what you need,” she decides to say with a snap of fingers. Ideas come quickly to this one. “Dinner. With me. How about I bring you up something and make sure you get some sleep the next day or two? I’m not suppose to treat you, for now, but…”

"Sorry. I think I frightened your new friend." In that Th'seus does sound apologetic as his shoulders slump now that the stranger has disappeared from view. For her remark on him being mean he just shoots her a rather immature look (it runs in the family) before slumping backwards and blinking a few times. "I'll drink all the water that you want me to. But please, don't just… show up. I could have company." And that would be awkward, so, so, so, so awkward for him. He looks down at the floor and concedes, "We can have dinner together. I promise that I'll go to sleep at night and drink." Pause. Beat. Moment. "Water." He reaches out, glancing up at her from under thick eyebrows as he takes the glass. "Thanks."

“I dunno, but,” and there’s a pause on her new friend, Aife shaking her head a bit. “She had the same reaction around one of the weyrwomen, too. Er, Hannah? She’s really good at evading questions, though.” She thrusts the filled cup towards Th’seus right then, clearing off her table and setting the box back behind her on one of the shelves as he speaks. There’s laughter on his begging her not to show up unannounced before she drops with a look, “And how am I to know when you’ve got company or not? I don’t have any way of reaching out and touching that big head of yours. I’m also working on getting me my own room here, so, I’ll extend the same. I’ll definitely have company and I don’t want you barging in.” Right. He’s agreeing to dinner, so there’s a dimpled smile and firm nod. “Good,” she says. “See that you do, or I really will. Healer’s orders,” and she leans briefly towards him with a look for emphasis.

"She's a teenage girl. They do that, evade questions. You were one of those once, weren't you?" He faux-ponders, rolling his eyes up to contemplate the ceiling as his fingers encircle the cup. "Just assume that I always have company up there and don't show up unless you're invited. I think that's the simplest of solutions." Th'seus offerss up, taking a long swallow of water before adding, "Or maybe if there's an emergency. But if it's an emergency you're better off finding someone on the ground, faster that way." He glances towards the caverns exit. "I guess, maybe, that we could go and get dinner together tonight. When you're done making a mess all over the infirmary." It's all said in a tone that's vaguely teasing, the tortureous way of older brother's that love to irritate.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s more to it than just that,” Aife is easy to return on teen girls, this time making a small face at Th’seus. “And you hardly saw me when I was a teen.” And as for company and showing up and all that, well, the healer flaps a hand at him and shakes her head before she states, “Bah. You’ll never give me an invite, in that case. Nope! I think I’ll stick to what’s best. I really don’t know how you managed all this time without me,” and yes, she’s shaking her head at him. “You’re lucky, you know. I hear dragonriders always get into trouble. Good thing you’ve got me here to patch you up at a moment’s notice!” Now she’s up, wiping her hands on her clothes with a look towards the disapproving pretty-faced healer as she says to that last, “Oh, Eiren will just have to clean it up,” and she nods right at her. “Likely why she’s all pissed. Can you believe, they still don’t trust me here, yet?” No, they don’t. She’ll elbow Th’seus in the shoulder as she passes him from around the table though, like any sister would. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they make me sweep floors or somesuch.” One might wonder why they would, since she’s a healer herself. Or so she says.

"And you hardly were old enough to remember me as a teen." Small favors, likely. He stands up, his color looking better now than when he arrived. The cup is still clutched in his hands as he looks over Aife's head towards the healer that looks so, so, disapproving. "Yeah, what would I have done?" He asks in a dry, ironic tone of voice. "Eiren doesn't look like she likes you very much. What did you do to her?" As for further threats that she's going to show up at his weyr, he knows better than to try and convince her otherwise. So for now he just lets that go. After all, they're going to get dinner. And he really does love to eat food. "…You sweep the floors?" He echoes after her as he drops one more glance at the table and then back towards the other woman. Silent afterwards, he'll fall into step next to her.

“The problems with living at a Hall,” Aife sighs, so dramatically. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” She seems to be making it her mission to do so, too. Leading them out passed Eiren, she passes her a jaunty wink as she answers Th’seus with, “Ignore her. She’s mad about some missing letter, ahhh, involving me being here – it’s really not that important,” and she’s quick to treat it like’s it’s nothing. “I think she’s just worried I’ll take her place with my amazing, fresh skills from the Hall and all. The whole story would bore you to tears, even.” Beat. “That, too.” That being the floor sweeping as she leads him out, the woman truly having a gift of making anything and everything seem downright trivial. Or suspicious.

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