Majel, Veresch


Amidst the rumors and speculation surrounding her Southern misadventure, Majel visits Veresch in the infirmary to better ascertain her condition.


It is noon of the second day of the eighth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Infirmary, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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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.

Day three. Unending day three. Veresch, a creature of much activity, hasn't had to sit still like this since kid classes, and has lost the knack for it since then. She's 'trapped' in one of the further beds in, next to a kind old lady that's got some kind of laryngitis. The cast around her arm and shoulder - a bulky thing of wrapped material and wood panels for strength, traps her rather well, and for the moment she's struggling to brush her hair with one hand, a feat that's not going so well, but less disastrously than her one-handed attempted bathing earlier that morning. There are few grumbles spoken, that one of the Healers can attest, but a ton trapped behind her teeth given the way she's glaring at the scrap of mirror she's peering into.

There's some discussion by the triaging desk just shy of high noon, an exchange of terribly polite back-and-forth before Majel gains admittance to the section of patients where Veresch is recuperating. Her approach is brisk, gaze steadily assessing the cast, the hairbrushing attempt, the girl's expression before she offers up a wrapped napkin. "I thought you might like something brought from the caverns, " she says in greeting. Much like her bedside manner, it's nothing fancy, a small sweetroll that's sure to cheer the senses for a short period.

The last of the knotted locks gives way to the wielded brush as Majel arrives at her bedside, and Veresch manages a small smile. "Thank you, Maj," she gets out, putting the brush down to take it with the same hand; her fingers are clumsy on the wrappings, but she gets it open and her eyes gleam, a look that promises it's not going to last long at all. "This is going to go down wonderfully. The food's not bad here, but an extra sweetroll's a wonderful thing. How is Dyxath doing? Still growing like a weed? Up to where is he now?"

"Not the most nutritious thing, " Majel admits, "but it's important to keep your spirits up to hasten your recovery." Her expression brightens a hint at the mention of the not-as-little blue: "He's doing very well, as far as I can determine. He's about up to my shoulder now when I stand, if you can believe that. We'll actually get to mount up soon, once our straps are finished and pass inspection. No flying yet, of course, but walking together on the ground is a step in that direction." More quietly, "I'm glad you were not seriously injured."

Veresch wrinkles her nose and pulls her legs back on the bed, making space enough for Majel to sit if she wishes. "You're always so … logical," she finally gets out, unable to locute the thoughts in her head. "I doubt one sweetroll's going to harm my health all that much, and I'll be out of here soon enough, up and running like normal!" She pats the bed with her good hand. "Sit, and tell me what's going on? What's the gossip in the Weyr, amongst the dragons? You'er privy to that now, right? And Granny, how is she?"

Majel perches on the edge of that freed bed-space at the invitation, hands folding neatly in her lap. "I am, " she agrees with a small shrug. "I don't think Dyxath would have wanted me if I were any other way." She isn't exactly sheepish, but it's close enough to an apology for not being able to be as warm and fuzzy as some others manage with ease. "We don't gossip much among ourselves, he and I, but we heard that weyrwoman Tuli and Elicheritath pulled a gutsy move and that she had an assistant with her. There were injuries. So, " a hand flicks briefly between them, "I came to see how you're holding up." As for her favorite elderly seamstress? "Nana's okay. Her vision's getting worse as the sevens wear on; she says everything is starting to look cloudy with an odd color, as if she's trying to see the world through a bit of frosted glass."

Veresch listens quietly, reaching out with one hand to squeeze Majel's hand slightly. She knows how the other woman feels about Granny Awesome. "I'm sorry to hear that," she says quietly. "Very sorry, but it sounds like it's one of those things that happen with old age perhaps?" It doesn't make it sound better, really. "I know," she says, deliberately switching topics. "I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life, Maj. Thread all around us, and then Kraakenaeth almost on me, and the pregnant Weyrwoman not with her dragon… and it was strange, you know? I can't actually remember how we got down, but I can remember snapping bones and the blood, and hitting the sand. All I could think of is that if the Weyrwoman got injured, I'd be the most useless being ever. And I was. Useless. I just slowed them down."

"Inevitably, " is Majel's calm rejoinder for Veresch's sympathy. A casual observer could mistake her outward manner for cool indifference; her eyes and the small furrow in her brow tell a different story. There's a careful clasp returned for that hand-squeeze as the weyrling turns her attention to the messenger's recap of her Southern adventure. Is it really any surprise that she sticks to the facts rather than immediately seek to provide emotional reassurance? "It was a high-risk situation with very unlikely odds, from what you've described, " she says after a few moments. No censure is present in her tone, whatever her opinion of Tuli's gamble. "You followed instructions and made it out alive, Veresch. I don't think that's useless. There's nothing more you could have done. You couldn't make the Thread disappear. And you weren't in control of the descent."

"I know," Veresch mutters. "I know. I just … feel useless. But I don't think Tuli's going to come back for some time, really. Elicheritath is harmed very badly, and she'll have to keep still to heal, and Tuli won't leave her. Now it's just Weyrwoman Sadaiya and Mayte, who has to pay attention to her weyrling stuff. I can't just lie around here, I'll have to go and help with whatever Tuli's been busy with. But whenever I move, the Healers jump on me, and I can't even put on my own pants." Her mouth twitches slightly. "Although I guess I don't need much more than a shift to sit and do some hidework. Hm. I wonder if they'd allow someone to bring it in to me." That perks her up, and she grins. "Enough of me though, how much longer until you can mount up and have a Dyxath-trot?"

"Mayte's training with Rhiscorath needs to be her primary focus, " Majel concurs with a little frown. There might be the smallest emphasis placed on 'needs.' It eases, however, at Veresch's expressed wish to keep busy and be helpful. "Similarly, your healing needs to be your focus before you throw yourself back into being a very capable assistant. Probably another seven or two, if not sooner, " and she switches topics smoothly. "He passed his most recent health exam with flying colors, if you'll pardon the pun. Our first set of straps is just about ready; I need to finish securing the padding on the section that'll fit about his left shoulder."

"D'you think…" Veresch trails off, uneasily straightening her legs off to the side. "D'you think I might see him? If he comes to the entrance to the yard over there, I'm sure I can walk there… well, you might have to lend me a hand, I still feel a little weak. Just a peek to see how big he's grown." There's a little of a tired sulk. "They won't let me have Smoke in here, or my firelizards so that I have someone to talk to at least, and the old woman in the other bed can't talk back. Or… d'you think you'd be able to get me a pack of cards somewhere? At least I'll have something to do."

Majel's mouth twists briefly at the request. Judging by her expression, it's more out of figuring out the logistics than anything else. "He did walk over to the bowl with me while I ran into the caverns to grab a quick lunch and your sweetroll, " she allows. Her gaze unfocuses for a long moment before she stands, offering an arm to hang onto or drape about Veresch's shoulders, whichever the other prefers. "A quick peek, " she cautions. "My time here is just about up and I've got to take him back to the barracks." There's a frown from the assistant on duty at the desk, but she doesn't make a move to stop the young women.

"It's okay, just this and the trip back, I promise." Veresch hadn't been entirely honest about how healed she is; when she manages to get out of the bed slowly she has to hang onto Majel's waist with every ounch of her strength until her head clears and her knees behave. Despite that, she walks slowly but surely next to her friend, until they're at the door leading to the dragonhealers' yard. Managing to lean on the large doors, she waits and peeks around, looking for a little blue that is apparently no longer so little.

Majel's sturdy to hold onto as she helps Veresch out into the doorway of the infirmary yard; throwing all of those firestone sacks is steadily paying off. "More resting for you, I think, " she observes unnecessarily as they pause at the threshold. Dyxath's waiting for them, carefully stepping nearer until he can whuffle warmly into Veresch's face with a deep rumble. He smells of raw meat and spicy hide, eyes whirling a blue-green with the tiniest fleck of yellow. "He's sorry that you got hurt, " his weyrling relays softly.

Veresch doesn't mumble too much when Majel mentions more rest, too excited to see the blue. "He's gotten so huge," she says happily, looking at the trenchcoat-blue with happy surprise. "Hey Dyxath. I don't know whether you'd remember, but I saw you barely after you hatched. You were so tiny…" Now she's able to slowly slip her arm from Majel's waist and reach up to pat the blue, one hand delicately trailing over headknobs and down to his muzzle. "How big you've gotten. I see you're feeding very well, hm? Soon you'll be up in the sky as well… don't worry. I'll get better." One last pat, and she transfers her arm back to Majel's waist, holding the other tight to her body in the sling. "I'm so envious," she says to the weyrling. "So very, very envious. Could you…" She nods back to the bed, suddenly tired from the short walk.

Dyxath rumbles again, amused; why yes, he was tiny. His eyes seem to sparkle as they pick up speed just slightly, nose bumping forward in thanks for the girl's gentle attention. There's a fleeting impression shared with Veresch of rain drizzling on a cold street, a low chorus of baritone hums that tickle the base of the skull before he takes a careful step back and moves back toward the bowl, mindful of the foot traffic in the yard. Majel studies the teen for a long minute as she automatically reaches to help steady the other's frame. Her expression barely shifts, but she swallows hard, teeth finding purchase along her lower lip. There are no logical words that can be offered in the face of such a sentiment. Her answering, "Of course, " as they start back for the infirmary's interior is heavy.

Despite the sentiment not one that has an easy answer, it's not something that remains on Veresch's mind very long, not with the effort it takes to get back into bed. Her need to be in the infirmary definitely hasn't been faked. "Thanks, Maj," she says when she's safely back in bed, and produces a ribbon. "D'you think you could tie my hair back before you leave?" It's only enough for a stumpy ponytail, but still.

Majel hesitates only a moment before taking the ribbon with a little clearing of her throat. "I'll see what I can do, " she affirms, carefully moving to the head of the little bed so that she can better gather what dark hair can be pulled together into a tiny ponytail. It's secured swiftly with the ribbon, even if the occasional piece looks as if it'll come free from the tightly-pulled binding at any moment. "I'll send a message to Nana about getting you something to keep you entertained while you're here, " she promises. "I hope my visit hasn't tired you out too much."

"No!" Veresch says swiftly. "No. You haven't. I feel better, really." Waiting until Majel's done, she turns to hug her one-armed, holding on only for a few moments. "You and Dyxath are the most interesting things all day since my parents showed up earlier this morning, promise. And I'll sleep. Healer Grumpy over there isn't looking too happy. If you speak with Granny, tell her that I look forward to her visit, okay? Or whatever she can come up with." Obediently sidling down into the covers, she pulls them up to her ears and gives her friend a big, if tired grin. "I'll see you when I see you again. I hope the walking goes fine!"

Majel returns that hug, if a little awkwardly. "Healer Grumpy means well, I'm sure, " she says with a tiny smile. "Take it easy and don't push yourself too hard. It wouldn't be sensible to reinjure yourself so soon after starting to recover." Watching her settle back into bed, there's a nod that tilts down to her. "I hope it does, too. He's not the most graceful walker I've ever met, but we'll make it work." They must. Quietly, she withdraws from the patient and murmurs a thank-you to the desk attendant before striding out to meet Dyxath. Their journey back to the barracks is quick, silent.

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