Logs:Admirable Efficiency
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| RL Date: 8 January, 2016 |
| Who: D'vro, Reston |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Reston helps D'vro deal with some of his stress. |
| Where: Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Riva/Mentions |
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| At the end of the day, people finishing up with work means a rush of things for the healers to attend to--complaints or follow-ups not serious enough to miss work for, that kind of thing. But it's a pleasant sort of busy, for a cavern that's seen so much worse. Reston might be still settling in, but it's back to work, and that means standing near the entrance with a woman in her late twenties and a little boy, maybe four years old. "A little of that in some water or juice before bed," he tells her, perhaps more briskly than one would hope. Maybe he's in a hurry to get back to the plate of food sitting on the reception desk. It looks largely untouched. A polite, well-natured man by default, D'vro hesitates at the entrance to the infirmary rather than walking rudely past the people standing nearby despite the stiff tension in his face. In his person in general, really. Even moreso than usual, the bronzerider is looking like a man who has never relaxed a day in his life. But he waits for the mother to move along with the child before he making his way in the direction of the reception desk. "How long might I be waiting before I can speak with someone about my condition?" he asks of the other man, looking at the food as though he finds it distasteful more than the Healer's face. There's only a brief exchange before the patient and his mother are off on their way, after which Reston gives the plate a brief and wistful look before turning his attention back to D'vro. "Well, unless the complaint of anyone else waiting is that they've ceased to be visible..." A hand on the small of his back briefly, as he then scans the infirmary. The other healer on duty appears to be otherwise occupied with someone else. "Ah. Well. I suppose..." Another look at his dinner, but then the thought seems to be put aside. "This way, have a seat, tell me what the trouble is?" D'vro turns his body rather than his neck to look behind him and see that he is, indeed, the only one present. "Right. Thank you." He moves along to follow the Healer, ending up near the seat but not actually sitting down in it just yet. "I've had a headache for the better part of the day, didn't think much of it. I thought it might subside after a cup of tea. I even tried klah. I was hoping to wait until morning, but I can barely look at my reading anymore." He has more reading to be done before morning, presumably. "You've something you can give me and I can be on my way, yes?" "Admirable efficiency, but you have your job and I have mine, if you'd like to let me do it?" Reston leads the dragonrider over to the cot but doesn't insist he sit. When he fails to do so, in fact, Reston sits, himself. Perhaps not one to stand on tradition, or maybe it's just that he does look... worn. "Do you get headaches often? When did it start, today?" The Healer sitting makes D'vro look at him more closely, eyes narrowing for a moment as he considers the other man. "On occasion. Today, yes. I woke up with it, fairly common, but I didn't realize it wasn't fading until around midday. I know you, don't I?" The question comes right on the tail of his other comments. "Southern, yes? Master...?" "Reston." The Healer does not point out the connection to his sister; perhaps he thinks that will be reminder enough to get that far. "You woke up with it. Are you sleeping reasonably well?" He leans forward, peering at D'vro, but not his face--his torso, his posture generally. "Settling in? Finding your new home satisfactory?" It doesn't sound so much like polite questioning as like he's rattling off a list, following a flow chart. "Master Reston. That's right." If D'vro has more to say on the matter, it's interrupted by a wince when he tries to move his head too quickly one way. He closes his eyes, nods very slightly, and clears his throat. "Sleeping as well as can be expected in a dark cave. It's been stressful, to be honest. Moving here, I mean." He doesn't offer more information than that, but his eyes are open again and he's looking at the seated Healer. Apparently this is Reston's cue to actually stand, going over to one of the cabinets, extracting a jar, pouring powder into another, smaller one. "Willow will do you some good, but I'm not giving you anything stronger than that. Moving is stressful. Pain feeds on tension." He comes back to hand over the jar. "Find a way to relax. Preferably one that doesn't involve dangerous levels of intoxication." D'vro stays where he's standing, but his eyes follow Reston toward the cabinet. He doesn't look happy about what the man says, but if he's in pain, that could just be the way his face is going to look for the time being. "Find a way to relax," he repeats it as though it's something unattainable. "Perhaps another glass of wine in the evening won't cause any harm. Thank you." His gratitude is offered as stiffly as his neck is held, but he asks, then, "Have the stresses of moving been more kind to you?" If Reston slouches to lean against the wall just like that, they're about the same height, look. "It's never easy," he allows, "but I have help. Apprentices. Riva. She brought me supper. After I get done with work, she'll come down and we'll have a drink and she'll help me with my writing. It's not so bad. I'm not looking forward to the winter, but I grew up in Fort--have you ever lived somewhere with snow?" That seems to remind D'vro that there was food on the desk and he gestures in that general direction. "Don't let me keep you. I was glad that Riva decided to come with us. Perhaps I should be thanking you?" Did she follow him here and not her Wingleader? "Never for an extended period of time," he says of the snow. "I suspect all will be well again as soon as the wings are sorted out and I find a routine, anyway." "Oh, no," self-deprecating, Reston waving off that suggestion. "I should be thanking you, though perhaps not by mid-winter. I'd have gone south again if she wasn't moving up here. This is closer to the Hall, of course, but with dragons, the distance is no concern." He heads back in the direction of the entrance, and his dinner. "After this summer, I think I will like the cold." "I may well be regretting my own choices come mid-winter," D'vro will allow with a small grimace. He walks with the Healer toward the desk, seeing himself to the other side. "Thank you, again. If there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, Master Reston, please let me know. Or have Riva let me know." He must feel at least somewhat responsible for the man being in Fort. But then, his words are probably meant to be more polite than actionable. That actually makes Reston smile, not a thing he's done quite so easily as perhaps he might have on earlier meetings. "I'm sure she will, whether I ask her to or not," he admits, as he finds his chair and settles into it. "If you don't start feeling improved in the next few days, come back. Or if you have any other complaints. I would just as soon not see you anytime soon." This should have a caveat of at least not here, but it doesn't seem to occur to him that anywhere else would be an option. |
Comments
Kaleidoscope (11:51, 9 January 2016 (PST)) said...
This was a fun read! I enjoyed seeing how two transplants with such great work devotion interacted and particularly the discussion of moving and adjustments. Poor D'vro and his headache and oh, Reston - no life outside the infirmary~ :D
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