Who

Rielle, Katryana

What

Rielle flexes her herbalist lore for inquiring minds and shit-talks Katryana's very competent arse-of-a-Journeyman.

When

It is sunset of the twenty-fifth day of the first month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass. It is the eighty-fifth day of Summer and 115 degrees. It is sunny and bright. White fluffy clouds drift lazily across the china blue sky.

Where

Garden Terrace

OOC Date 26 May 2018 04:00

 

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"In my way, I do still train; it's something I loved too much to have it torn from me. But I have no regrets whatsoever trading in my purple for a white knot. Obhaeroth is my heart."


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Garden Terrace

Tucked-away and bejeweled, here is a hidden treasure of Southern, beckoning and beguiling those who may trod the entrance of weyrbridge: steps cut upwards, switching back and outer-railed, to terminate in a sheltered ledge of stone. Here, greenery blooms in fragrant profusion, scenting the air and quieting the minds of those who stroll amongst the cultivated rows of cultivars. Flowers, and tiny fruit-bearing trees limn the walkways. Tables and benches scatter organic throughout the rambling concourse, providing easy rest for those who challenged the stairs… or the craft shops beyond the scrolled wooden door at the innermost part of the terraced ledge.


One good thing about Southern's summer in all it's sticky, sweltering glory is the undeniable lushness of all the native flora. Many plants have reached their peaks in terms of blooming and ripeness, and the herbologist piece of Rielle's heart can't help but go all aflutter around this time of the Turn because of it. She's wandering the gardens with clippers in hand and a partially-filled pouch at her hip, sandals and an airy skirt of moss-green crinkled cotton along with a white tank top suiting her much more than flight leathers at the moment. Her knot hangs from her belt rather than her shoulder, and a broad-brimmed woven straw hat shields teal eyes and her neck from the Rukbat's last harsh rays. She's currently beside a small eucalyptus, inspecting the leaves on the lowest branch and snipping one free every now and then to carefully slip into her pouch.

And what's summer without introverted, sunscreen-coated apprentices seeking respite from the oppressive walls of the Infirmary after their day is complete? Well, any season, really; Katryana doesn't suddenly gain the ability to tolerate crowds when what passes for winter arrives in Southern. Padding lightly on the balls of her bare feet, she's traversing the gardens aimlessly, humming to herself in an off-pitch but sweetly toned alto. A flower is plucked from a nearby bush, in full bloom, and she tucks the blossom into one of her humidity-ruined pigtail braids. So intent on having no intent is she that she fails to remark the other woman before she's nearly upon her, with a flustered, "Ah!" Flushing, she bobs a curtsey from the otherside of the eucalyptus, "My apologies, Wingleader. I didn't mean to interrupt." The pouch of flora is eyed curiously, though the teen shows no surprise; Rielle's reputation as an apothecary proceeds her. "If you don't mind me pryin'," and let's hope the brownrider doesn't, because Katryana doesn't show any signs of stopping, "what're you collecting things for, ma'am?"

Rielle sees the apprentice ambling her way out of the corner of her eye, noting the humming shortly thereafter. She's seen the girl in the infirmary before, more than a few times in the past few sevens, so she knows Katryana is posted here, at least. The brownrider marks the girl's path idly, a gently-angled brow lifting when it becomes apparent that someone isn't exactly paying attention to where they're going. Teal eyes glitter with amusement in the wake of the girl's curtsey. "I think the tree would've interrupted you more than you were going to interrupt me," she remarks, Ruathan lilt wry as she side-steps a bit to shift to another branch. Not minding the question at all, she gives a little smile. "Restocking Serval's field medical supplies. And bolstering my own; I've permission from the gardeners to clip through when I please, since I know how to tend what I take from." She pauses, swiping the back of her wrist over her forehead. "What brings you up here, Apprentice Katryana?"

"Aye, trees have a way of being rude like that," the teen agrees gravely, running a finger down the rough bark of the tree's trunk before rapping her knuckles against it lightly, "never bothering to keep their leaves raised and stay out from underfoot. No courtesy, I'm tell you." The mock-solemnity is broken with a bright smile and girlish giggle a moment later. "Ah, I see. Makes sense enough." The flower in her hair is purely decorative, as far as she knows, but she has grace enough to blush about it. Okay, she didn't quite ask to take it… Clearing her throat, she scrambles for the little apprentice-grade scroll she's got tucked into her waistband, unrolling it and blowing on it to clear the charcoal dust left from her writing utensil off of it, before holding it against the tree and making a rubbing of the bark. "What do you use eucalyptus for? I've heard of a tincture of leaves for sore throats and allergies, but not much besides that would make it a strong field remedy." Katryana's posed to take notes, if the woman's willing to provide her with the knowledge, a genuine interest alight in her large, wide-set eyes. "Not much besides just stretching my legs and getting away from all," she flutters the hand not keeping the scroll pinned to the tree towards the Weyr, "that."

Mention of "all that" earns a wry smirk from Rielle. "Things are particularly tense right now, in a way. All of us waiting for Zymuraith to finally rise," she notes. "Though perhaps it's just the sheer amount of people you're talking about?" But now they're talking uses for what she's currently clipping, and the erstwhile Healer is more than happy to pass on what she knows. "This isn't all for field work, mind," she explains, taking the leaf currently in her fingers and folding it in half lengthwise. "It's good for bundling with peppermint, spearmint, and lemon balm to hang around a space and keep insects away. In a pinch, you can break the leaves and rub them on your skin to do the same for a bit. That's one use in the field." She folds the leaf again, this time at the width, and then tears the joined quarters. "This probably smells familiar." She wafts the strong fume of the broken leave beneath Katryana's nose, withdrawing quickly before it becomes too strong. "A quick clearing for the sinuses. Not quite as strong as smelling salts if someone faints, but possibly strong enough to try when there's nothing else around. If you need a pain salve on the go and don't want numb fingers, it makes a good alternative mixed with arnica. It can also be an alternative to redwort for antiseptic tincture."

"Zymuraith shinier by the day, which has got the boys all a-tizzy, and Rhiscorath's eggs on the Sands besides—got quite a few of my friends tapped to Stand for those, ma'am," Katryana pauses on those words for a moment (a flicker of jealousy, perhaps?) before carrying on, impassioned, "but shards, the people and the heat and it just never, never lets up." The apprentice groans, shutting her eyes and plonking forehead into the tree in front of her dramatically. She's snapped back to rapt attention and starts scribbling notes as they're conveyed, not in a way that's meant to last but will well enough until she's able to transfer it to something a bit more permanent. The words are dictated breathily as she does, "Insect repellent; bundle with peppermint, spearmint, and lemon balm. Antiseptic tincture; redwort alternative. Decongestant." She snorts the scent obligingly, cringing and sneezing at the intensity; she's a sensitive, wilting flower, okay? "Counter for vasovagal syncope. Pain management salve with arnica…" Big eyes flick up from the paper and she clicks her tongue, "Ah, arnica, that's good for bruising, too, and as anti-inflammatory, isn't it?" Herblore isn't the parlance of her Journeyman, so she's a bit too enthusiastic to have a willing source of information.

"It does tend to happen at a Weyr," Rielle notes somewhat wryly over the matter of people the apprentice knows getting white knots. "As does all this, and for Faranth's sake, don't thump your head against what's harder than it is." No, this former Journeyman, current Wingleader, and mother doesn't have much sympathy for dramatics! She nods over the matter of arnica, adding, "And for soft tissue injuries in general. Some research shows that it might be good for treating acne, insect bites, and ringing in the ears, though as I far as I know, that's still not as common." The brownrider, deciding she has enough eucalyptus in her pouch, closes her clippers and slips them into a smaller pouch near the other before training her teal gaze on Katryana once more. "Are you interested in herbology and botany, or just trying to be a sponge for the moment?"

Katryana's properly chastened by words of logic bespoken in a tone that tolerates no sass. Goodness knows she's got time enough to indulge in teenage angst when confined to the apprentice dorms! Without separating a leaf from the tree, she sandwiches it between hide and palm to get a rough impression of the shape by drawing her charcoal over it with the same hand that's holding her paper-substitute in place; the hide is particularly good for this purpose, due to being scraped thin from repeated usage. "Arnica, soft tissue injuries; possible usages for lesions, tinnitus," is mumbled along with the cadence of her writing utensil. She shrinks slightly under the intensity of the gaze turned upon her, but puffs herself up a bit as she conveys with all the seriousness she's able to muster, "All knowledge is worth having. You never know when you're going to need it. Writing it down here," tap tap on hide, "helps it stick here," tap tap on temple, "and I'm not able to let your wisdom go to waste, ma'am. All aspects of Healing interest me, but I'm more focused on trauma and triage, or at least that's the idea, what with being Journeyman Matrell's apprentice and all." The man's known for his didacticism, tight leash of his underlings, and expectation of no-questions-asked obedience; all fantastic traits for a Healer needing to keep stringent control in an emergency situation, but frustrating as all hell for the free-spirited apprentice whose focus on the theoretical has a tendency to get her chastised more often than not. "Focus, focus, he says, but there's just so much to know!" Her sigh is parts exasperated and wistful.

The charcoal tracing of the leaf is watching with approval, something Rielle herself had taken to doing as an apprentice to help her with her sketching accuracy. "I've always had things stick better after writing them and sketching them, too," Rielle says. "And your Journeyman is an insufferable arse, by the way." She's a dragonrider, not a Healer anymore; she has no compunctions about saying such things. "Hidebound as they come. You should request another. He's not wrong about the focusing, except in that he believes only he knows what's worth focusing on. Especially if you happen to be female." Blue-green eyes roll expressively as she drifts toward a nearby planter. "Mm, speaking of arnica…" She reaches down to gently brush the edge of a few cheerfully yellow flowers, daisy-like with a big button center of golden brown. "I think these may be ready to snip." And she does, carefully cutting one away at the base. "Just one for now, to be sure."

The teen is straight-up scandalized by the disparagement directed towards Matrell, though her face says she can't really disagreement with anything the woman's saying. Still, there's respect in Katryana's tone when she speaks of him, "Aye, insufferable, but brilliant. He's pulled good people back from where I thought there wouldn't be coming back. I try to take it with a grain of salt because there really is so much I have to learn from him." Her already-round cheeks are puffed out in frustration, "I can't help what I'm interested in, and I do everything as I'm told, and he's making me boil numbweed—he knows I can't stand it, too—because I was reading something he didn't approve of. I'm still doing my studies, aren't I? I don't understand the harm but," mimicking his tone with a cutting accuracy, she clucks, "when you're an apprentice, it's not your job to think, it's to do!" This has been a long-standing point of contention between them. "It makes me want to not care, sometimes," is confided, shyly, but Rielle's impudence and honesty is empowering. "Oh, arnica? Perfect!" With that, the Healer is all smiles again, and she repeats the sketching trick by holding the flower underneath of the petals with her fingers splayed to hold them in place. "How do you know when it's ready?"

"It's good that you can see his redeeming qualities," Rielle concedes easily enough. "You're his apprentice; you would know better than most. But how he comports himself with others leaves much to be desired. And no one should stifle someone for wanting to learn about whatever interests them." She'd fought plenty of her own battles at the Healer Hall, some memories of which still haunt her…so despite the good things about Katryana's Journeyman, she sees too much of what she dealt with in what the girl tells her for comfort. "If apprentices aren't allowed to think, how can he expect competent Journeymen?" Absolute nonsense! Turning her newly-clipped flower in her fingers, she replies, "You can tell when the middle gets more brown. It stays yellow for some time, but you want it to be more mature, which you can tell when it darkens." Just as she's tucking the bloom away, a loud croon draws her attention over the side of the terrace, brows quirked curiously. Obhaeroth is there…and has just taken note of the junior queen gliding toward the courtyard. Chuckling, Rielle shakes her head and sighs, knowing she'll have to head back down rather soon now. "Anything else you'd like to know, apprentice?" she asks, stowing her clippers away once more.

"Aye, ma'am, on all counts; but he's the best person to teach me what I want to know right now, and," Katryana's tone beckons conspiracy as she fills in some details on the sketch, "what he doesn't know I'm learning can't hurt him. Soon enough, a few Turns, I'll be a Journeyman, and I'll have kept my brains plenty sharp for when that time comes, ne?" Still, Rielle has spoken with the ring of harsh truth and an echo of the pain the teen has had to struggle against more often than not lately, leaving the young women contemplative. "Yellow center… darkened to brown… indicates maturity and readiness for use." The dragon's croon breaks her from her notes, and the 'rider's non-specific offer is considered. Clearing her throat, still crouched by the blooming arnica and feeling the centers of the blooms in varying states of readiness to store the textural information for later usage, she finally asks, "Do you ever regret it, ma'am? Not continuing to train as a Healer?"

Rielle nods along with Katryana's reasoning, though the girl gets a wry once-over for her remark about Journeyman. "Unless you're older than you look, I think you have a Senior Apprentice knot to strive for first, aye?" she asks. "But yes, you'll have done yourself a tremendous service at that." She watches Katryana feeling the flowers a bit warily, but she's quick to respond to the question posed. "Not at all. And in my way, I do still train; it's something I loved too much to have it torn from me. But I have no regrets whatsoever trading in my purple for a white knot. Obhaeroth is my heart." Her features soften with fondness at the mention of her lifemate. "And even though the manner's changed, I'm still helping people as a dragonrider, just as I'd always purposed to."

The teen withholds a pout at Rielle's age assessment, instead informing, "My fourteenth Turnday is a sevenday from now." She bounces up to her full height, equaling Rielle's own and a bit beyond because she seems incapable of standing with flat feet, before continuing with pride, "I'm supposed to step up soon; I've been right-begging to be able to teach on my own, because I'm ready for it. I've earned my senior's knot," sardonically, she adds, "and Journeyman Matrell agrees with me, for once." Her note-taking scroll has the piece of charcoal settled inside it before she rolls it in a smooth motion again, tucking it back where it came from in her waistband. The response given without hesitation consumes her full attention, though she looks like she's far away for a moment, before nodding. "That's good to know. That you're still able to train. I could never give it up, either," she agrees ruefully, noting the softening on the 'rider's face as she speaks of her brown. "That's one way of viewing it, I suppose." She itches at her nose, wincing at the sensitivity of the flesh. "Oh, shards, again. I put sunscreen on you!" As if chiding her skin is about to stop it from burning! "I'd best get inside, ma'am, before I crisp up. Thank you for your time. I learned a lot."

Rielle only smiles at that, knowing full well what the journey to both the last stage of apprenticeship and the first tier of journeyman-ship is like. The girl may have a somewhat rose-colored view about just how things will progress. "Training has to be whenever I can fit it in, mind. The Weyr comes first," she notes. "And a lot of it is just self-study to keep sharp what I already know." Still entirely worth it. The brownrider smirks when Katryana takes note of her nearly-burnt nose. "At least you're being conscientious about it. Too many people haven't been lately. Anyway, you're welcome. Have a good evening, Apprentice Katryana." Once the girl is gone, Rielle will wander for just a short time more, gathering a few last samples before returning home to put them to use - just a little of that continued side training in practice.

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