Who

Th'res, Ibrahim Tommin

What

Th'res comes for a drop-off, Ibrahim comes for a pick-up, they both come to pick on Tommin (they're just teasing).

When

It is 9:48 AM where you are.
It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Weyr Infirmaries

OOC Date 29 Oct 2017 06:00

 

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"… someone carved a small set for his little sister and she ended up sticking one end up her nose…"


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Infirmaries

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.


Best part about flying dragons? All the free time a Weyrling has now…For chores that is. This autumn mid-morning has Th'res, who is dressed in his own riding leathers as he needs to get used to moving around in them, stepping into the Infirmary to drop off supplies but also check on his friend Tommin. Becuase as rumor has it, Tommin fell down some stairs, and broke his collarbone on a clacker! The short red headed rider stands in the door way holding a large box of supplies waiting for the healer on duty to tell him where they go..

Ibrahim is just loafing about — no, really, he's got to pick up some more basic supplies for his next fishing expedition. Dressed in the usual fishing gear of old and comfortable clothing, he's got his equipment slung over one shoulder in a carisak, his hair all bound up in a thick leather thong, and a small sack of snacks to chew on while he's out with the fleet, he lingers round the Infirmary, waiting on the Healer on duty to show him-or-herself.

How fortunate for Th'res that Tommin is coming from the back of the room, headed to the intake desk in the Infirmary. Really, it's the only thing he can do, his arm still braced tightly to his side, leaving the other hand free to write and eat. The movement in the doorway has the apprentice healer looking up, his expression brightening as he recognizes the weyrling: "Th'res! Hi!" And then, he recognizes Ibrahim and his smile turns a little cheeky, "Morning, si-ailor!" It's too smooth to be a mistake.

Th'res nods to the healer who is more or less in tact saying "Tommin, good to see that the rumors were exagerated slightly" he chuckles before getting that far away look, he shakes his head and grins "Jed says next time you fall you should tuck your arms like a dive." Such a helpful blue dragon who is currently lazing in the sun somewhere because he can, a nod to Ibrahim saying "Morning"

Ibrahim restrains the urge to roll his eyes at Tommin's impudence, squinting a little against such pre-klah cheerfulness. "Hey." He greets both Th'res and Tommin, letting his bag fall to his feet with a soft thump. He then gives Tommin a closer look, asking, "What happened to you, kid?"

Looking a little bemused at what rumours may have said, Tommin flushes a little, fingertips above his brace wiggling a little. To Th'res, he says, "Thanks. I tried to, a little, but I was really surprised." It's not terse; the boy is well-used to running over the incident in his mind now. Ibrahim apparently hasn't heard all the news: "I was in the Gall… Solarium," whatever the harpers call it #sorrynotsorrymadox, "an' a rider got mad at me because I had clackers, and shoved me away an' I fell wrong." A little mournfully, Tommin adds, "I wasn't even playing with 'em. And now Trenger's mad because I lost 'em." Life is one big ball of suck for Tommin.

Th'res shakes his head "Can't leave you a lone for a moment." he says with a chuckle before the soft colorful swirl of muted blues, off whites, greens and yellows « Feel better Tommin ».

"Maybe we oughta assign him a babysitter, or something." Ibrahim intones blandly, grinning at Th'res in amusement. "Keep him outtta trouble." For his safety, and all that.

Tommin looks forlorn: "But… it wasn't my fault!" he says, "I wasn't trying to upset anyone. I didn't think I did anything wrong but he kept…" and for a moment professionalism escapes Tommin and his eyes go a little wet. Jedameth's interruption goes a ways to soothing Tommin; he pauses and collects himself, blinking a few times. Still: "Just wasn't fair. Now I'm broken and on desk duty until I can move my arm again." The idea of a babysitter earns Ibrahim a sulky look.

Th'res snorts at the comment about constant watching glancing at Ibrahim as if to say 'you read my mind'. He shakes his head at the younger lad as he grows tired waiting for the healer on duty and puts the box down by the intake desk because holding things is annoying when your trying not to laugh. He will pull up a chair and flip it backwards to sit down "We all fall down, and get injured, at least you can still work, and since you can still work and they haven't just sent you away that means you are at least good at your job."

Ibrahim grins wryly, his gaze returning to Tommin in time to catch that sulky expression. And those tears he's holding back. Man — this kid really has got to toughen up soon, right? RIGHT? "I'm kidding, man. Nobody wants to follow you around making sure you don't get hurt. That's crazy." Even if he really does think Tommin could use a chaperone. He, too, grabs a seat top plop himself down in, crossing his arms over the back of it as he straddles it. "Yeah. I think everyone here' sbroken a bone at least once."

Look, are you going to help Tommin feel sorry for himself, or make him pull himself up by his bootstraps? The boy wants to continue his grump-fest but it's not really his nature. "I know," he tells Th'res quietly, watching his free hand play with a stylus. He gives Ibrahim a half-smile, saying, "Not to mention, boring. I mean, apprentices aren't all that exciting. We eat, we sleep, and we work." Thrilling, to be sure. "And the Journeyman said it'd right itself soon because I'm young," which no teenager likes to hear but there you have it. Successfully pulled out of his funk, Tommin asks, "Sorry, sorry; how can I help you both?"

Th'res nods and grins as he sees Tommin pull himself up "I got this box here for you healer types" he moves the box with his toe. He gets that far away look and sighs as he stands up saying "And now Jed just rolled in the mud playing with his clutch brothers, I need to bath him again." Oh the joys of being a dragon rider! He gives a both men a grin and says "I will see you two later, we still have that fishing to do right Ibrahim!" but he has to scoot before the answer can be heard.

Oh, look, Tommin's got a little sense in there somewhere! Ibrahim approves of the boy getting it together all on his own. "Oh, gotta get some odds and ends to take with me out with the fishing fleet. You know, the usual remedies for the usual minor injuries we all get out there." He grins as Th'res takes off after his dragon, shaking his head a little. Dragonets are always into something, it looks like. He'll be all too happy to remain unbonded for now; it's like guarding an oversized toddler.

Tommin pushes himself up to peer over at Th'res' box of things and by now, the sudden tailwind of the weyrling doesn't get much more than a look as Th'res has to leave. Now there's only Ibrahim to deal with because there's a sudden lull in medicine-seekers. "Oh, like bandages and numbweed? Did you have a box put together for you earlier, or is this a new list?" Indeed, there are a couple of boxes behind Tommin with names tacked on them but they look half complete. A little embarassed, Tommin mentions, "Ahh, I'll need your help in picking it up, if you don't mind…"

Ibrahim grins in amusement. "Sure, kid." He'll pick up the box and turn about, looking for a space to stash it. "Where'm I putting it?" He cants a look at Tommin briefly, and shrugs. "Gave 'em a new list about a week ago — hopefully they got it done. I try to let 'em know in advance."
Looking grateful is a good look on Tommin - he points to an empty space just behind him: "Just to get it out of the way of everyone, if you don't mind. Yeah, a week should be plenty of time to have your kit done."

Pulling open a drawer, Tommin leafs through a stack of pages, clearly inked at the top, 'Complete'. It takes a few sheets and then Tommin says, "Ah hah! Here you go," and shows Ibrahim the list of items. "We've got it in the back. Dillinh finished it." Tucking the sheet behind his prostrate arm, Tommin waves the sailor to follow him to the back of the room, skirting around beds and bedpans.

Ibrahim follows along amiably enough with the box, setting it down in a convenient corner before turning his attention to the list. "Yeah, that'd be it." His tone is satisfied as he goes back to following Tommin through the Infirmary, waving his way expertly along the place. "I'm glad it's done. Can't wait to get out there and fish. Lovel way to clear the mind, you know, and settle the nerves." His grin is impish, now. "So, what's up with this 'clackers' thing you were talking about? Is that a new thing for apprentices to have around, now?"

Tommin listens to Ibrahim even though he's walking in front, nodding a little and making wave-y hand moves of agreement that don't seem overly disagreeable about states of mind on the water. "It's alright," he says, almost timid in his contrary opinion, "I grew up in Tillek. My da said I was too skinny for the sea; she'd spit up my remains as too lean for her tastes." As they come to a pile of neatly arranged boxes, of course Ibrahim had to ask about that. Sighing, Tommin explains, "They're some new toy." Aka, the bane of Tommin's existence. "You're supposed to tie 'em around your finger and make them clack up and down on a string. I suck at it, but some are really good. Except, they're also really noisy, and lots of the little Weyrbrats keep getting hurt. Bruises, black eyes, someone carved a small set for his little sister and she ended up sticking one end up her nose…" Really, why doesn't Pern have safety councils?

The sailor boy will turn to squint at Tommin measuringly, looking him up and down as he considers. "Huh. Maybe your dad could have given you more of a chance than that. We had a few 'scrawny' ones — " Himself included. " — that did pretty well on the ships, doing things that the bigger ones couldn't." Like getting up into the rigging; you didn't want a big dude all up in that trap. And then, as Tommin explains the mechanics of the new toy, he wrinkles his nose. Now you mention it, I remember a few of 'em running around with them. Theyy're nuisancy." He laughs, then, as Tommin makes note of the mishaps of the young. "What the hell, man. Kids have no sense at all." Like Ibrahim didn't do that kind of craziness when he was a young brat.

Tommin's loose shoulder makes a hitch of movement, not without a hiss. "He was okay. I take after my mam anyhow and she liked staying inside." Is the horse driving the cart or is the cart driving the horse? "I like being warm, too." As for the clackers, Tommin nods with the brief enthusiasm of finding someoone who understands. "Yeah, right? It's like they don't know what's good for 'em. And the worst is when the parents hear about it and wanna take the toy away, and the kid's crying and the parent's gonna cry…" As a teenager, Tommin has no patience for these shenanigans. "I'm just glad we banned 'em in here."

Ibrahim has no more patience than Tommin does; they're definitely bros in their hatred of the obnoxious things — botht he children and the toys. He'll grab his box and smirk at Tommin. "Yeah, we banned 'em on the ships, too — nobody wants to hear that crap all day. I'd like to find out whose idea those things were, so I can make 'em listen to it all day." It's purest torture to hear all that clack-clackin' all day long, and Ibrahim shudders for it. "I'm actually sleepin' as far away as I can get now. Wish Thread wasn't falling, or I'd sleep outside man." He hefts his goods over his shoulder, and wanders back the way he'd come, to heft his carisak and everything else. "Well, be seeing out next time the fleet's in. Thanks, man."

Tommin doesn't look at Ibrahim like he's strange but his eyes widen: "Really?" Like he's never met anyone with radically different preferences. Life experience, man. Now following Ibrahim to the front, Tommin grins and lifts a hand in farewell, saying, "Fair winds and following seas, Ibrahim." Just a little something his da taught him.

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