Logs:Raining Dragons
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| RL Date: 30 April, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Tess, Elaruth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The scene in Fort's dragon infirmary is rather chaotic. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Violent storm. |
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| It's a mess. The storm of less than two hours old continues to cast thunder, lightning, high winds and almost anything else that it can summon down on the Weyr and the region beyond, with no sign of letting up anytime soon. Most of the dragonhealers who have been pulled on-duty have begun to look more than a little worse for wear, those who are also riders looking more harried and frayed at the edges, finding themselves faced with both dragon and human worries, and the dragon infirmary itself looks more like a disorganised storeroom than medical centre. All the wallows are occupied, harried riders standing or lying at their lifemates' sides, while the huge double doors leading to the bowl are fought with and wrenched open and closed every now and then as healers head out to deal with more patients. Elaruth doesn't occupy a wallow, nor does she look to be injured, but she's crammed and curled herself into one corner of the room, her focus pale and distant. As for the Weyrwoman, she's sat in the circle of her queen's folded arms, dark eyes wide and staring. Traffic control? Tess is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a trained dragonhealer, but she can, in the least, provide help for any injuries to the riders themselves and dole out fellis or other medications at the dragonhealers' direction. Right now, she's at the task of handing out blankets and klah to those coming in from the storm. Elaruth can't have escaped her notice, but Tess would understandably be hesitant to interrupt whatever task brings them here. Still, after a time, the healer make an approach with klah for the goldrider, greeting her with a solemn, "Ma'am." Hattie's focus continues to absent itself for a few moments after Tess addresses her, and though she likely doesn't mean to stare straight through her, when she blinks her way back to present surroundings, she doesn't offer up an apology. One hand reaches, lifting back to press firmly against pale gold hide, her other hesitantly (reluctantly?) seeking out the offered klah, which she regards with a wrinkling of her nose and no evident, immediate intention of drinking. "Thank you," she says all the same, sincere despite those hints of distaste for the stuff. "Needs must, I suppose. I don't think we'll be sleeping tonight." A glance around yields, "Any of us." "No, I suspect not," Tess agrees soberly. "No guessing how long the storm will last," or how many injuries it will incur. "If there's something you find works better for you - a tea, maybe? - I can make sure it's on hand, ma'am." She looks back over the dragons in the cavern, "You're both doing more than I suspect any of us can." Big picture vs. small picture. "I appreciate that," Hattie replies, "but I'll survive on what everyone else is. Seconds finding me some tea could be seconds spent stopping someone bleeding, for all any of us know." She's matter of fact - though not unkind - about it, her expression soon concealed by the mug of klah, which she holds her breath to take mouthfuls from, its heat ignored to the best of her ability, yet a slight twist of her lips might make it a futile battle. As for her lifemate, Elaruth maintains her silent focus, tensed and distant, bowed beneath the weight of shared and stolen pain, but still very much /there/. "No fatalities? No riders, at least, since..." No keening. Yet. Tess's smile appears, but only a thin, ghostly version of its usual warmth and presence, "I promise not to hand out klah when I should be triaging a wound," the humor there is not an assumption that the goldrider actually thinks that she would, just that it's a funny idea and every ounce of humor is nearly essential in these tension fraught times. "Not as yet. There's one being seen to by the trauma specialist," Tess swallows hard, "makes me wish I'd studied harder in certain specialties, to be able to better help, but she seemed optimistic." Certainly optimistic enough to send Tess off to help with these things, here. "A couple of breaks have been set already, but nothing that recovery time won't fix." She chews her lower lip a moment, some concern niggling her thoughts enough to be expressed with that. "I think I'll accept optimistic and not enquire further, for now," Hattie murmurs, lifting the mug again to down more of the drink like she just needs to get through it as soon as possible - another task to complete. "I'd consider calling for more assistance from the Hall if this continues on longer than any of us can anticipate, but I'm half sure it would only result in more casualties. Travel isn't really an option." More klah, and this time she doesn't bother concealing it when she screws up her features in a flash of distaste. When she opens her eyes again, she peers up at Tess, head tilted, her silent study seemingly an enquiry, or an invitation to speak. "The watchdragon there," Tess starts, her brow puckering, "they've-- the Hall knows, don't they? To be prepared to send people? Will more dragonhealers come from other Weyrs, if they're needed?" The healer half-asks, half-wonders, before looking contrite. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you've thought of everything. I didn't mean to presume." She glances back the way she came. "Would you like updates? About non-rider injuries and-- and casualties?" She makes herself say it; where she came from, there must have been casualties, of course, but not like this, not with this kind of potential for disaster. The hesitation betrays her youth and inexperience. "...If I ask for other Weyrs to send dragonhealers through the storm, I'm asking them to risk their lives and potentially... not make it," Hattie answers a little hollowly, fingers curling white-knuckled around the mug. "No matter the potential benefits, it's a lot to ask. And a lot on a person's conscience." She won't say /hers/. "If things settle enough for any length of time, assistance from the Hall stands a chance of getting here, but I don't know if the roads are any safer than the skies." A low, quiet note catches in Elaruth's throat, and Hattie ducks her head for a moment, pressing the heel of her palm to her temple. "...Could you put together a list?" the Weyrwoman requests. "I think I'll process it better that way." "I meant after," Tess is quick to make an attempt to clarify her original intent, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say to put others in danger, just for after." She looks away from the Weyrwoman. "I'll make sure there's a list available for when you want it," which is to say that it will manifest nearby at some point, thanks to some passing infirmary aid and be updated in much the same unobtrusive fashion. "I ought to let you focus." She probably also has ways to spend her experience in the craft that's better in the long-run than passing out klah and blankets. "I don't think that was what you were suggesting," Hattie attempts to assure, giving a little shake of her head. "And besides... if this carries on for long enough, we might not have the choice to wait for any /after/ to get here." To say that she sounds less than thrilled about that would be an understatement. The subject of the list is easier, and so she asks, with a hefty dose of dread colouring her words, "Could you include the riders as well, please? I'm not sure that I'm getting an entirely accurate picture. I've got most of the dragons tracked, but..." She has a less stable link to their riders. "If it becomes a logistical nightmare to have me and Elaruth here, we'll operate from the hatching cavern." Tess's head bobs once to the first words, her expression grave as she considers. It's probably moments like this when she's glad she's one of the most novice journeymen in the Infirmary and not, say, in charge of it. There are privileges to inexperience, even if some of the trade-offs are feeling less than useful sometimes. "I will. I'll coordinate with the dragonhealers." She glances to those healers in question, perhaps trying to pick out who's best suited for that task of those present and not otherwise engaged. "Do you need paper or something to write with or anything to help track the dragons?" It's a thoughtful offer, not one meant to imply they're not managing well enough on their own, but... who knows how long this could go on for. It's Hattie's turn to colour a little when she admits, "...I say 'I'... it's more she," a nod back and up at Elaruth, so close as she is, "has an awareness of them. I'm more or less the organisational implement in the arrangement." She moves, rearranging skirts as she settles back against her queen, the support wanted or just necessary. "If it gets too complicated, I'll track down my assistant and send him. I'm sure he'll be thrilled." That last statement is a touch dry, yet she presently lacks the energy to make it truly sarcastic. "Thank you, though. I appreciate the thought." Tess's blue gaze settles on Hattie while she answers, but she doesn't seem to be judging the difference between dragon and rider, though nor does she offer an opinion that might be supportive; she's still, as yet, out of her depth when it comes between the bond between dragon and rider. "Yes, ma'am." Then, "Just have one of the infirmary aides fetch me if you need something they can't get for you," in case. But then the journeyman is turning to head back to direct one of said workers to the blankets she was managing and make her way back toward the infirmary, probably to work on that list or keep someone from bleeding out - whichever seems more pressing in the moment. |
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