Who

Safi, Kodi Tommin

What

Kodi and Safi come to the Infirmary for different things; Tommin can only man the desk and make conversation

No Bulls or Billhooks were injured in the making of this RP.

When

It is 6:56 PM where you are.
It is evening of the twenty-second day of the fourth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Infirmary - Southern Weyr

OOC Date 27 Oct 2017 06:00

 

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Infirmary

Sterile and scoured, the surfaces of the infirmary, well-tended and beloved by the complement of Healers due a weyr of Southern's size. Soothing tissane simmers at the large hearth, while comfortable chairs circle that particular feature in a waiting-room of sorts. Tables of dull-gleaming oldtimer metal lie as examining slabs, neatly lined in rows with pull-curtains enabling full privacy as needed. A low wall separates the southern half of the room from the rest, and those practicing the apothecary's trade can be seen compounding medicines under the watchful eye of the posted Master.


It's a slow night in the Infirmary, or slow for Southern's infirmary. At the front desk for Triage sits a young man, his left arm braced against him by a heavy sling, freeing his right hand to… doodle. Tommin looks bored and annoyed at it, turning once to spy over his shoulder as something clanks against the floor, startling him. But no one is groaning and the journeymen have stopped hustling the apprentices around for a while so… quiet. Boring. "Ugh."

Safi slips into the infirmary cradling her hand. It's bleeding, but nothing particularly life threatening. It looks like someone has already attempted to wash it and she's pressing a clean-ish cloth onto the bleeding hand. Nothing serious - she's just looking for some bandage or whatever. "Um," she should be more assuming here, but instead, just, "Um."

Kodi is uninjured. At least, visibly. Her riding jacket is slung over one arm, but it's with a calm countenance that she studies the immediate vicinity upon entering the infirmary, doing a little social triage of her own. Tommin and his heavy slung arm are studied briefly, then Safi with the flesh wound. Apparently Kodi's happy to wait, clearly somewhere down the list of Healer priorities. "Quiet?" she asks Tommin, clearly guessing he's been here a while. The "ugh" was a dead giveaway, after all.

Just great. Tommin knows that one of 'um' and turns to face Safi with the look of a teen whose illusion of peace has been interrupted. "Hey," he says, like butter would melt on his tongue in spite of attempts otherwise. His eyes affix on Safi's hand: "So, you've got a problem there," like he's not some neophyte Healer, "How did it happen?" The fingertips of his left hand, barely visible over the brace, wiggle slightly, "Are you feeling lightheaded? Did it happen recently?" Then, because Kodi isn't really asking distracting things like "Where's my massage therapist?" or "When's second dinner?", the older woman gets a half-grin. "It was," he agrees, eyeing her quickly to see if she's doing something radical. Like bleeding out.
Quietly. Without complaint. Or fainting.

Sheepish Safi takes some of the pressure off of her cut hand and peels off the covering. It's still bleeding sluggishly under there, though there are plenty of clots forming. "Slipped knife." It's an easy enough explanation.

No bleeding out from the rider, which Kodi proves as she drops her jacket onto a chair and finishes rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. The job was half done already, so it's a brief task. She watches with a borderline clinical curiosity as Safi removes the temporary bandage. Totally not a Healer, though, or even a former Healer, she just slips her own uninjured hands into her trouser pockets and waits. Patience for days, man. That's Kodi.

Oh! Well a slipped knife. Tommin brightens because he can definitely help Safi here. "Let me introduce you to Senior Apprentice Healer," the title not given lightly, "Trenger, who cuts himself so many times, we call him our practice doll…" Heartening? Maybe not, but Tommin grunts only a little as he swings himself out of his seat to guide Safi to Trenger who totally wasn't busy, man. It's not long to hand Safi off to his fellow Healer but Tommin is back soon, straightening his shirt. "My apologies, Miss," he tells Kodi, "How can I help you?"

Kodi continues to watch the interplay between Tommin and Safi with that same level of detachment, just as calmly patient by the time Tommin returns. "Hello," she replies, almost formally, despite the lack of title or other address. "I had requested a new jar of numbweed. Should be under Kodo, Serval Wing." Her gaze briefly swings toward where Safi had been escorted, adding idly, "Hope it was a clean cut." A beat, then, "Clean blade, too. A lot of nasty ones out there."

Okay, so it takes Tommin a moment to turn his mind from his previous patient to the new one, Kodi. "Numbweed? Oh! Yes." Even then, it takes a moment for the boy to move. When he does, it's quickly to his left; the move jostles his bound arm and Tommin gasps. A moment to get his breath and he continues, "Me too, but we're seein' a lot more billhooks these days," the curved blade of the billhook better help in cultivating than a machete, "an' more wounds for it." Oh! Numbweed, yes; Tommin turns to a tightly lined rack of jars, labelled by wing. "Kodi… Kodi… Yes!" Like a victori, Kodi's jar of numbweed is plucked and brought to the desk.

Kodi has an endless supply of that patience today, it seems, unbothered by the apprentice's wandering attention. At the mention of billhooks, the rider's right brow rises for a second. "Really, now," she replies, sounding genuinely curious, though her expression relaxes when Tommin returns to the task at hand. She takes the jar of numbweed and nods her thanks. She checks it briefly, making sure the cork is as tight as it should be. Not a trust thing. Just a practical thing. She returns her attention to Tommin, studying him a moment. "How far into your apprenticeship are you?"

"Yeah, they're right fierce!" Tommin mentions, almost envious as he pushes the numbweed gently towards Kodi. He doesn't look put out when she tests the cork, merely observing with bright eyes but when Kodi's eyes are on him, he looks down at his right hand still covering marks of former old apprentices on the desk. "Um. A turn and some?" he says. A moment where his left shoulder almost moves but then it's the right hand that lifts to wave at it, "Got desk-duty until I heal up right." The woes.

"Can't say I've ever tried a billhook," Kodi muses, finally letting her attention wander toward the business side of the infirmary, briefly distracted by someone's raised voice, which is quickly shushed by someone unseen. When Tommin answers, though, her eye focus on him again, then the bundled arm. "What happened to it?" she asks in follow-up before she frowns with a flash of sympathy. Riders know injuries, man. That was definitely sympathy. "How much longer, do they think?"

The subject of billhooks is much more interesting, say, than what happened to Tommin; the lad eyes Kodi almost warily for a moment. "I got shoved," he says finally, ignoring the raised voice int he background, "And I fell on it funny and it broke." He's not very clear what part of him 'it' is, but the young man's mouth twists bitterly in agreement. "Journeyman said I should be still for a month," silly journeymen know nothing of teens, "but I hope it'll be sooner."

"Hope," Kodi repeats, though it's with oddly little inflection. There's no sage advice to follow, no pithy quote. She's just echoing some element of the sentiment. Her thumb taps against the side of the numbweed jar as she considers a moment, then comments, "Odd things, bones." A pause, as if waiting for agreement. "I've seen men get knocked half a dragonlength by a bull, and barely a scratch. Same guy steps off a ladder wrong, broken leg."

Dammit, Tommin's the right age to ignore pithy quotes and go do something stupid. He looks a little forlorn at that for a moment, down at his lost pen and back up to the rider. He nods in agreement about bones and, swelling his small chest like a firelizard who has found his flock, Tommin mentions, "Yeah! And me, got shoved in an art gallery." His tone is incredulous because does that really ever happen? "Some rider shoved me wrong and I landed with a fucked up shoulder!" Woe is Tommin, who is looking to fit into Kodi's dichotomy, "I'm like, half-way between!"

"Half-way between what?" Kodi asks, expression bland, though her eyes narrow just a hair. Then a frown appears. "Where in Faranth's name is there an art gallery?" That frown deepens. "A gallery?" The narrowing of eyes is no illusion by now, and her tone of voice leaves too many possible motives behind it. "Why the shove?" That part is almost off-hand, really, in comparison.

"Halfway between the guy who gets knocked by a bull and the dude who falls off a ladder!" Tommin enthuses, waving his right arm with enthusiasm that he and Kodi are on something of the same page, "I'm like, right in the middle!" He's not going to explain further because Kodi has asked a new question, "Oh, in the Harper quarters, just across the way. There's a lot of pretty art that's been hung up." A pause for the apprentice to add bashfully, "I like going there because it's quiet." As for why he got shoved? Tommin shrugs uncomfortably, "Guy said I was being noisy because I had clackers," paraphrasing much, but Tommin's fast to reassure, "but I wasn't clackin' 'em! Trenger said I had to keep them quiet." Heart on a sleeve, is our Tommin.

Kodi taps the bottom of the jar against her palm for a couple seconds as she studies the young man, though there is once again little in her expression to suggest what it is she might be learning. She shares some of it, though, stating, "Ladders near bulls can be dangerous." A joke? Attempted joke? Possibly. This is closely followed by, "And what are clackers, pray tell?" Meanwhile, Kodi's heart is nowhere to be seen. Or deeply buried, anyway.

Okay, that first line? Tommin looks a little like he's not sure he's following but that expression clears after a moment. He's even starting to smile a little like he understands but then the name of Tommin's downfall is named. A hefty sigh because now he really has to explain: "It's those two balls, on the string? An' you put the string on your fingers and, like, clack?" The right hand tries to demonstrate but as bad as Tommin was with the toy, he's worse without, hand jerking without rhyme up and down. "The kids love the clacking sound," but Tommin isn't a kid so he doesn't. At all. Little adult here.

If Kodi looked mildly skeptical at any point in the minutes leading to this one, now she looks downright wary. The hand gestures didn't help Tommin's cause, as the rider asks, "The kids love them, huh?" while her expression says she has her eye on the shifty dude, and now she knows about billhooks, so watch out! The numbweed jar meets her palm again with a dull smack, then her frown starts to fade. Redemption? Nah. Math. "I need to get to drills. Thanks for the numbweed, kid." Riding jacket is snatched up, then she leaves. Just leaves. End scene, drop curtain. Standing by on fog machine.

GREAT. Back to desk duty.

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