Logs:Not Good At Making Friends
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| RL Date: 3 June, 2014 |
| Who: Alida, Oliwer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Oliwer is on duty when Alida needs a healer. |
| Where: Infirmary, HRW |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'laer/Mentions |
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| Today's winter sun - and what little warmth it had to offer High Reaches - has already set, but that doesn't mean the Weyr's activities are over. Not by a long shot. Near 9pm, a stony-faced bluerider marches smartly into the Infirmary, her face slightly pink with chill, her clear green eyes holding a touch of leftover irritation and more pain. Note the ginger way she's tucking her left arm - within its voluminous riding jacket - into the side of her body. Even before she reaches the verge between the tunnel behind her and the Infirmary-proper, her gaze is slicing over the occupants of the place, searching for not just a Healer, but one she can stomach in her current mood. If there's a cheery one anywhere near, a cold glare hopefully dissuades them from trying to tend her. Evening isn't quite so busy for the infirmary since most people like to get the mundane, boring stuff out of the way during their day. Evening is generally for emergencies and riders who can't find the time to come in earlier. Given Oliwer's specialty, he spends many an evening on duty in the infirmary. It's the aide at the desk who acknowledges the bluerider, though, with a tentative, "Hi. Do you have an appointment?" Since she has the schedule in front of her, she probably knows the answer to that already. Alida isn't one for wasting time, especially when in pain, so the blonde with the braided, long hair simply stares a little harshly at the desk aide's inquiry - as if the other female is missing a handful of gears in the windmill of her mind - then clips off a hard-accented, fast, "Whadda' *you* think?" Grumble. DUH. Stare. "No." The aide doesn't seem that intimidated by the cranky bluerider. Lots of cranky people come in here. People who are hurt don't generally tend to be in that great of a mood. But she smiles all the same and rises from her seat. "Give me a moment." Then she's turning to find the healer that eventually comes back with her. The aide sits without another word, which is fine because it's Oliwer that addresses Alida now. "Evening," is offered with a professionally pleasant smile. "If you'll come with me, we'll get you taken care of, hmm?" He gestures to one of the nearest curtained off rooms, waiting for her to walk before following. Those rather merciless green eyes flick over Oliwer's person from stem to stern in an almost-professionally assessing manner, then move to note where he points, Alida merely grunting at the 'good' in his 'good evening.' Crisply, she strides after him towards that curtained-off area, the aide behind her already mentally filed away, and by the time the bluie reaches where the Healer's pointed, she's managed to wrestle her riding jacket off in a series of wriggles and grunted sounds of small pain. Oliwer will likely quite plainly see a bloody, rolled-up cuff of the woman's beige shirt at left forearm, and a handful of small, but rather deep little puncture marks along said arm that ooze blood. If Oliwer finds Alida's manner off-putting in any way, there's no hint of it from him. He closes the curtain door behind them and, since she's making it pretty obvious what her problem is, he doesn't ask her why she's here in so many words. He does offer a wince of sympathy, however, gesturing for her to take a seat on the cot while he begins gathering the few supplies he'll need to clean out the wounds. "Get into a fight with a tunnelsnake?" he questions conversationally. "Irate firelizard..." Alida mutters softly as she glances between Oliwer and her own owies, the blonde then lightly seating herself on the indicated cot. Added almost triumphantly, yet still quietly, "But I finally fuckin' found 'er eggs." If the Healer catches her eyes at that moment, there's a glint of rather 'war-like' exultation within them. "Congratulations," says Oliwer mildly, though with a brief smile, as he takes a closer look at the bluerider's wounds, carefully dabbing away blood with a piece of redwort-splashed gauze. "I can't say that I've ever seen my own firelizard in any state close to irate. But he doesn't lay eggs, either. Come to think of it, I'm not sure he's ever caught a lady of his own. Do you want me to use numbweed? I'm not sure anything is deep enough to warrant stitches but it might make the dressing more comfortable. Did she get you anywhere else?" There's a low snork of darkly ironic humor at the Healer's congratulations, her green eyes watching him and her wounds as he assesses, cleanses them. Oliwer will note there's sand in a few of the punctures that he'll have to fish out of her hide. As for numbweed, "I'd usually say 'no,' but I *still* have ta' go back in an' try ta move 'em." Eyeroll. "Nah. Only reason she went after me is I almost stepped on 'em before I saw the mound." Once enough of the blood is cleaned away to get a better look at what he's actually working with, Oliwer shifts for a pair of tweezers to pick out any bits that shouldn't be where they are. He applies the numbweed first, though, giving it a moment to act. "You can't just leave them where they are?" he wonders out loud while he waits, clearly no expert in how firelizards reproduce. Yep; she thought there might be gunk inside the punctures, and, after the numbweed's taken effect, Alida watches as Oliwer tweezes out the little intruder grains of sand. In the meantime, with the cessation of pain comes some relaxation and reason to not be irked much anymore, so the bluerider murmurs thoughtfully, "Not sure, really, since they're on the hatching ground sands. Hrae's not even gone up yet, so there's no way she'll plop 'er own eggs there before Pyrite's hatch, but..." Shrug. Ah yes... maybe the dragon queens (and their Weyrwomen) won't want to share the sands with a mere flit and her brood. The journeyman is an efficient worker and, soon enough, the scratches are clean of debris as well. He gives them one last feel over for anything else before nodding his head to himself and glancing up at the bluerider. "Dragonkin do seem to have a thing for sand," he notes with a pleasant smile. "Good luck fetching the eggs if you give it another go. Maybe try to wear a few layers of leather." That might be mildly teasing. "We'll just dress this up and you should be good to go." "Bake those eggs good..." Alida mumbles laconically in answer to Oliwer's statement of dragonkin and sand, the woman then rolling her eyes some again. "I took my damned jacket off just before I went out on the sands. Hotter 'n a volcano out there." And see what she got for it? A bob of plaited head is given for the Healer's words of dressing her many little wounds, and soon the blonde's looking back up at her caretaker as he works and moves about...and murmuring a quiet, "Are you Oliwer?" He shifts to find the few supplies necessary to dress Alida's wounds, listening while he gathers what he needs. "I file down my own's claws on occasion. Fortunately he's the laid back sort." Much like his person, evidently. Oliwer starts on the dressing and bandage once everything's in order, but he pauses at that question, looking a little sheepish. "Right. Yes. I'm sorry. I usually introduce myself. I forget sometimes toward the end of my shift. Especially after a long day. I'm Oliwer." "I usually file the points offa' mine's, too... but she's rarely around, right now. Didn't wanna' get 'er worked up while she's fussy, anyway..." Alida comments casually about her own firelizard, nodding at Oliwer. "Nice ta hear someone else has their flit trained decently, that way." The slight aspersion in her voice might not speak well of too many other firelizard owners. The Healer's sheepishness leads to more moments of direct observation by the bluerider, 'lida then finally noting, "No big deal." Beat. "I'm Alida... Ilicaeth's." A small filing of upper teeth to lower lip presages a vaguely curious, "I hear you 'n Gal 're a thing." "He has his moments, I admit. But they often have more to do with not wanting to do anything than doing too much." Case in point, clawed up arms. Oliwer continues with his work, glancing up at the bluerider's face only briefly when she mentions the greenrider. He doesn't say anything right away and, for a moment, he looks mildly uncomfortable. But finally, "I suppose you could say that." Since they live together now, it's sort of hard to deny. "Lazy, eh?" the woman inquires casually, suddenly 'garrulous'... for her, anyway. Smirk. That glance Oliwer gives her is a chance for the bluerider to critically assess his reaction, her greens studying his face quietly. Discomfiture... ahhh. Another tweak of a half-smirk, and she notes low while slowly rising to a stand, "I heard 'im laugh, once." Once. Eyeroll. "We're supposed ta be friends uv a sort." Is there an imp dancing behind the blonde woman's eyes, right now? "Maybe I oughta invite you two over fer drinks 'n a few hands uv dragon poker..." "Very, sometimes," he smiles fondly in regards to his firelizard. And the smile stays for a few moments beyond before fading back to less comfortable uncertainty. "Of a sort?" He seems to regret asking as soon as he has. Probably nothing he wants to know. "I'm not much for poker. Or drinking, for that matter. But perhaps G'laer would enjoy the invitation?" Oliwer returns attention to her bandage, "You'll want to have that changed once a day over the next few. Just to make sure there's no sign of infection." "Pyrite just likes bein' around humans..." Alida notes with a hint of her own smile, the woman answering the Healer's inquiry blithely enough. "Neither uv' us 're good at makin' friends." Smirk. "Drinkin' doesn't have ta be booze... but 's'up ta you." Shrug. "Will do..." is noted crisply to the man, who gets a smooth and rather professional salute before the bluie pivots, and moves to exit the curtained area. Over her shoulder, "I honestly won't be surprised if I don't hear from either uv' ya." Contrary to those parting words, she doesn't appear unhappy. In fact, Alida seems to smirk softly. "Ah. I suppose that's true. I'm not especially good at making friends, either." Since they're done with the actual business of healing, Oliwer starts putting things away that need putting away and cleaning up things that need cleaning up. As the bluerider heads for the curtained door, the journeyman glances her way with a small frown before forcing it into a more usual smile. "I'll speak with him. Have a good evening, Alida." "No wonder..." Alida notes mostly to herself, leaving the Healer to perhaps ponder her quiet blurb. "You too, Oliwer..." the bluerider murmurs soon after, her paces economical and fluid as she simply disappears back the way she came. Perhaps it's time for round two: human versus firelizard. |
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