Logs:Auntie Says
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| RL Date: 29 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Serin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Serin bump into each other in the infirmary. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 12, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cold. |
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| High Reaches is cold, but it's not yet snowing, and still the infirmary is full of those with common winter ailments. It's in the midst of the whirlwind of healers, apprentices, and patients that Farideh is intently speaking with one of the senior journeymen, seemingly having a pleasant conversation regardless of the sick people around them; the goldrider has a short sheaf of paper in her fingers and the journeyman a thick-bound set of hides. "I'd be obliged," the weyrwoman says, loud enough to hear, before the healer whispers something that makes them both laugh. They part ways amicably, but Farideh doesn't get far, stopping instead to lean her hip against a convenient desk, perusing her list, mindless of the noise and fuss. The infirmary isn't the first place that Serin likes to go, but sometimes it's necessary. He's got some fairly heavy clothes on, and has flushed cheeks, despite his otherwise pale pallour. Pausing for a moment at the entrance to consider which of the healers he's going to hassle for something to deal with his fever. However, his blue eyes fall on Farideh and light up and he heads nearly directly to her position where she stands talking to the Journeyman. However, rather than address the goldrider or the person she's talking with; he attempts to pick out one of the nearby apprentices to ask for some medicine - you know, so he can be close enough to eavesdrop, without actually looking like he is, right? Right? When it's suggested he needs to be looked at more fully, he scrunches his nose. "It's just a fever, come on now." A pale face in a sea of pale faces, and yet the familiar voice pulls the junior weyrwoman's gaze from her paper, searching for the owner of said voice. Lips quirk in amusement as he gets fussed at, but she braves the apprentice's indignity to tip her head at Serin. "Sick?" is Farideh's question; no, she doesn't try to hide the laughter in her expression. "You should listen to them. Get checked out comprehensively and see what the diagnosis is, instead of slapping a cure-all on it and calling it a day." If his eyes were daggers, Serin would probably have killed Farideh the moment he turns to look at her after she so politely suggests that he should get looked at more fully. His voice cracks slightly, as he answers, "I come in here for fun." His expression does seem to get less hardened as he turns his attention to the healer to wave a hand as he says, "I'm here often enough this time of the turn, I know what I need." You know, as all people who think they know what they need say and with how busy it is, many healers are happy enough to leave it at that. Some of his humor reappears briefly, and he curls a finger beckoningly at the goldrider. "Are you worried about me? You're so sweet, come here and give me a kiss." "It's an odd choice for a party, but I've heard stranger," Farideh replies with a neutral expression. "I think that's a risky move. It's your health, and if you somehow infect the rest of the apprentices, I'm sure your Master will understand." She's only joking, right? Regarding him with one eyebrow cocked, she crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. "I'll pass. It's unfortunate we keep meeting this way, though. I've yet to see you do any actual work. First," and she surprising remembers, "you were sleeping in a chair and now, bothering the healer apprentices." She makes a tsking sound. "It's my health, and I know my body better than any healer would." Serin is quick to chime in, and despite the flushed cheeks and slightly runny nose, he doesn't appear as though he's going to keel over at any moment. "Besides, I'm pretty sure one of the other Apprentices started it spreading around the barracks. There's little anyone can do about that, when you got so many people sleeping in the same area. You act like it never happens this way, when it /always/ happens this way." He glowers, rolling his eyes and sighing lightly. "Some people are just really good at looking busy, while others are really good at getting their work /done/ so they don't /have/ to look busy." He retorts. "Calm down." The goldrider stands up from her lean aginst the desk and walks closer to Serin, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling in response. "There's no need to get your underwear in a twist." He gets a curt once over with sharp-eyed gaze, that lands unceremoniously on his pale face, searching his features, still with one brow upraised. "What was your name again? Sherwin? I can never remember these things," Farideh sighs, lifting one hand to way dismissively in the air. Serin doesn't look like he's feeling good at all by the end of it, his cheeks flushed even brighter red as he falls silent and just gives the weyrwoman a look. "Then don't try and yank them out of my pants." He responds flatly, looking grateful as one of the healers has decided to bring him something to start helping with the fever. "Should I be pleased that you don't? Maybe I won't tell you." He sighs as well, glancing at her as she gestures dismissively. "Not like you care." That flat tone earns an equally flat look from the weyrwoman. "I see." She gives the healer a tight smile, but doesn't say anything until they've moved on. "No one likes a pessimist. I remember the names that matter, and even those-- there's too many weyrfolk to remember every one." Taking a step back, Farideh jerks her chin at him. "Now that you've gotten what you need, you're off, then? Should I send around a tray of soup and liquids, since the whole lot of you in your area, seem to be down with something?" "You'd do well to realize that even though not every name matters, that nobody likes to be made painfully aware of how little they matter." Serin says as he turns his back towards the weyrwoman to wander a short distance away to take the medicine that was given to him. "Do what you want." He answers to the suggestion that there should be soup and liquids offered around to the dorms, and he tugs his coat a little tighter around himself. His gaze lowers, looking more at the floor than at the goldrider herself. "Oh, for the love of--" Farideh stops short of making a face at the apprentice, and forces a polite smile instead. "I do wish you well. Get better soon?" Fingers wiggle in the mimicry of a wave, before the goldrider turns and makes her way out of the infirmary, only stopping to say a couple murmured words with one of the aunties sitting in the waiting area. "Wait. So, was it you that retched over some important person's shoes?" Serin wonders probably far louder than the goldrider wishes, before Farideh can wander too far away. He then reaches to snag some more of the medicine and shove it in a pocket as he wanders along behind her. "I heard from one of the aunties, one that's making me a scarf." You know, because he's so good with names himself. The other auntie, the one Farideh is talking to, gets a pat on the shoulder before the goldrider turns her head back to glance at Serin with an annoyed look. "That rumor was going around, but it's completely unfounded." They're being gawked at by the auntie, who is not knitting a scarf, but instead, is listening fairly hard to their every word. "That clear it up for you?" "Are you sure you're just not embarrassed and lying about it? Because it sounded like there might have been a grain of truth in it." Serin asks, lifting a hand to wipe at his nose and then wipe it off on his pants because well, that's what guys do. At least, he does. He gives Farideh a discerning look over, and shrugs his shoulders. "You know... Nevermind." He says with a long pause between the two statements, before heading towards the exit himself. "I'm positive," is the automatic answer. The apprentice's immediate leave-taking is met with another exaggerated roll of her eyes, but Farideh graces the auntie with another one of her bright smiles and makes plenty of assurances about the rumors and her health, before seeking to leave the infirmary herself. |
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