It might be a little early to review what has been discovered so far, but Baezyl's gunna do it anyways. You can't tell him how to live his life!


It is before dawn of the nineteenth day of the eleventh month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Infirmary, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 03 Jan 2018 11:00



“Or should I round up some goats or something first?"



From the astringent smell of redwort, to the gleam of counter and cabinet, this place positively defines the concept of antiseptic cleanliness. Despite the yawning exit to the Dragonhealer Courtyard, the floors remain scrupulously swept of sand and particulate matter. Back behind the counter where the healers usually are, are shelves full of bottles and jars, as well as cupboards hiding away more delicate items that shouldn't be exposed to too much sand. Beyond the counter, there is the Desk, where patients are checked in and taken to one of the examination areas by a healer. The windows are usually kept open for the flow of air, but there is both shutters to shut out dust storms, and curtains for other occasions.

Where there was once the bustle and chaos of a working infirmary, now silence reigns supreme. As the night continues its march towards the new day, the patients settle into dreams or drugs – as required under the watchful eye of the assorted Healers and assistants who work with soft competence. One such healer is sat at the desk behind the counter, his elegantly booted feet up on the surface as he reviews the notes he has made in between his rounds.

“This is rather… curious, Amenadiel.” Baezyl confides in quietly excited tones, the preliminary analysis providing more than enough questions that he can investigate. “Perhaps it is too good to be true?” Because if there is anything that his turns as a healer has taught him, it is that peace only lasts as long as the next fuck up. Of course, Amenadiel is a firelizard, so this whole conversation is a little one-sided, but the gothic bronze tilts his head helpfully and continues just to bask in his masters presence. A sounding board for the myriad of thoughts that flit and flicker in the mind of this young healer.

“Where do you think I’d find a bug expert? Farmers? Herders?” There is a pause as the next question forms. “ Who’d specialise in bugs?” He sounds incredulous before it desolves into a derisive snort. “Then again I’m the idiot who specialised in humans… so who am I to talk?” There is a wink for his firelizard none-the-less, perhaps the only witness to his occasional forays into self-deprecation. “There are just too many variables, when you analyse it properly…” And that is what has roused his curiosity. “But if it is true… can you imagine the implications?” He asks of Amenadiel, who sadly as a firelizard has a questionable imagination and thus cannot imagine any of the implications.

Flipping through his notes, he settles on another aspect of his multi-pronged efforts. “At least I have a few likely volunteers for…trials. This guy had a beautifully ingrown hair!” He taps the hide significantly. “Or should I round up some goats or something first? I mean, if it does turn out to be plague after all, it’s probably best I experiment on something that can be slaughtered and eaten yes?” That irrepressible grin splits his dark stubble. “No effort wasted and all that.”

Jamming his stylus between his teeth he flips through a few more leaves, completing his scan of what he has so far. “There are just so, so many questions right now Amenadiel. And not very many answers. Certainly nothing to report to old Jhothulos…yet.” He sighs, before replacing the stylus onto the desk and returning his feet to earth once more. “I can’t wait to get started!” He announces with a clap of hands that causes the bronze to flare his wings in startlement, before Amenadiel decides to disappear to find other amusements.

However, Baezyl is a healer, and all healers know that peace only lasts as long as the next fuck up. So this moment of pre-dawn peace draws to an end with the arrival of a young shirtless man with a spike through his arm. “How in the blazes did you manage to do that to yourself? Jumping out of someone else’s window?” The same curious energy infusing that initial question, as it did the questions posed to a firelizard only moments before.

Ain’t no rest for the wicked after all.

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