Logs:Reactions
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| RL Date: 25 September, 2014 |
| Who: Lycinea, Oliwer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After her pleasant chat with V'ros, Lya comes to play games with Oliwer, but in the end, it's Lya who gets schooled. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Vesra/Mentions |
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| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
Riders and flight issues. Oliwer seems to mind them slightly less when they don't interfere with his personal life, but they're still a hassle to deal with. Once the scraped up riders are sent on their ways, though, the journeyman glances toward the girl while he puts the rags used to clean the riders' wounds in the laundry. "What brings you by tonight, Lycinea?" There's the habitual, probably unconscious, scanning for injuries, of course. "I came about that thing," Lycinea rolls from her side, where she was helpfully picking bits of down out of the pillow under her head, onto her back to look up at him. "That we talked about before." So specific! That thing. Oliwer frowns. He's not exactly a young man and he sees a lot of people during the day. It's been many days since his last proper conversation with Lycinea. But then? "Ah! You mean about Healer?" "Yee-- ah... Not quite. But sort of." Because that's clear as mud. Lya shifts to propping herself up on her elbows. "About shadowing you. To see if I might like it," which is sort of what he just said, but also different. "Right. Of course," says Oliwer as though he completely understands how that might be different. Even if he, you know, doesn't. "I'm still willing to let you shadow me," in case that's what she's actually asking him now. He's not entirely sure. Reading teenaged girls isn't one of his strong suits. "Yeah," Lya will at least confirm that is, in fact what she's here about. "'I'd like to," she says, finally sitting all the way up and swinging her feet to the floor. "The only thing is that I'm on shift so often in the kitchen, I don't know where I'd get the time, so I was hoping you could talk to my boss, because she'd never believe me if I tell her I'm coming to shadow you and help," which likely says a lot about Lycinea's relationship with her boss. Oliwer doesn't seem entirely convinced that she wouldn't be able to find the time if she really wanted to. But possibly more convinced that she wouldn't be able to find the time when it's most convenient for both of them. So he nods, "I don't think that will be a problem. So long as it's not going to cause you any trouble. You'll tell me if it does, won't you?" "I can't imagine they'll see it as anything less than a gift, Healer Oliwer." See? Look how polite and good Lycinea is being. "Now, if I'm to observe you I have some important questions to ask." She sounds quite serious. Without waiting to see if this might be a convenient time to field them, she asks, "First, is it going to be gross? The stuff I see?" "Yes, probably." He's an honest man, though he doesn't seem sure why this is even a question. It's common sense, right? "Healing is often inevitably... gross." Oliwer will just use her word for it. "Especially with my specialty. Is that going to be a problem?" Lya makes a face, but a moment later she's answering, "No. Have you seen what people do to their food trays? You don't know gross until you've done dishes for a Weyr full of grown children." She stands up, "But do you have to-- you know, deal with delivering babies?" Her eyebrows go up in dubious inquiry. The journeyman offers a smile that suggests he understands how that would also be gross, but he doesn't comment directly. Instead Oliwer answers, "From time to time. There are other healers that specialize in that area, so it's not one of my primary duties. But I can step in if the need arises." Lya's sigh is heavy enough that it might be supporting the whole of Pern. If Oliwer is clever, he'll discern the showmanship with which the girl hunches her shoulders and the skill with which she sets him up with her next words, "Then I guess you'd best explain to me." Oliwer looks dubious, but not unkindly so. He offers Lycinea a small smile as he says, "You won't have to worry about delivering babies for some time even after you apprentice, I assure you." Assuming she apprentices at all. "I mean..." She keeps her voice quite low. Then Lycinea turns wide, too-guileless eyes up at the healer, "You'd better explain to me where they come from." She's going to be a joy to work with! Oliwer's brows furrow at Lycinea, slightly taken aback by the prospect at all. "Do you expect me to believe that a sixteen turn old girl doesn't know where babies come from?" Does that mean Oliwer also expects her to be, well, personally experienced in how they're made? One might imagine that's the case. "I don't have a mother," Lycinea plays the pity card, not ready to give up the game yet, "to explain these things to me." "I can assure you that it wasn't my mother who taught me about... any of that." Probably for much the same reason that Oliwer is hedging. If Lya were a boy that was interested in other boys, it might be different. As it is, he's probably one of the least qualified people to be talking to her about that even if she were being serious. Maybe especially if she were being serious. "Well," the teen blows out a breath. "I suppose I could talk to this one big pervy bronzerider about it," the description of whom must give something of the game away. Oliwer is generally an easy going guy. Especially with children, of which he surely categorizes Lycinea. But he frowns at her now. "What are you playing at, Lya?" The blonde sighs, long-sufferingly. "I was just trying to see how much fun this would be." Lya flops back on the cot, perpendicular so her head lolls off the far side. "You're so serious." No fun at all! "You think it would be fun to listen to me explain how sex works?" Oliwer seriously doubts that. "I think it would be uncomfortable. For both of us." But that thing she mentioned before sticks with him. "You're not getting involved with pervy bronzeriders, are you? That can be... ill advised." He won't say dangerous. That might be dramatic. "I think it would be fun to see if you blush when you do it," Lycinea answers, not yet righting herself. "I heard healers aren't allowed." Now she pulls herself up enough to lean back on her hands. "Not involved in a way that lets them teach-by-example if that's what you're worried about." Probably more fun than a paint by number! "I probably would, to be honest. Delivering babies is one thing. Talking about how to have a pleasant sexual experience with or as a woman is another entirely. Experience is useful, in that case. And my experience with women is rather lacking." At least he can say that without blushing. And Lya totally wanted to have to think about Oliwer's sex life, too, right? Just exactly as much as Oliwer wants to think about what Lya returns with, "Well, maybe I should let H'vier give me the hands-on lecture then. He claims to have a lot of experience anyway, and the gossip mill is willing to confirm that much, even if the reports of his prowess or lack thereof are varied." And almost certainly colored by many a scorned woman. The girl might find it interesting that mention of H'vier in this context has the opposite affect from blushing in Oliwer. He goes pale and he looks a little horrified before he can get his composure smoothed, if not with complete success. "Lya, that man is dangerous." Not too dramatic now, evidently. "You have no business hanging around a man like that." That has Lya sitting up straighter, confusion playing on her features. This was not an anticipated reaction. "Why does everyone hate him so much? I mean, he's a rake, but--" Then her eyes widen and she looks up at Oliwer, "Did he sleep with your weyrmate?" It's asked a hushed tone, not because she's going for a reaction this time, but because she's genuinely just happened upon the idea and -- what. "His dragon catching my weyrmate's dragon is irrelevant. He's... violent. And unpredictable. You should stay away from him, Lya." The look Oliwer gives her is very serious, but there's concern there, too. Lycinea's eyes widen because, no, she doesn't keep up with the which bronze caught which green for a bit of dragon nookie. She's blinking at Oliwer, suddenly out of her element. She came in here to play her little game on the healer, and now-- now, she's at a loss, and for once, looking just exactly as young and inexperienced as she is, her cheeks reddened. "Okay." It sounds a little stunned but serious enough. It might be just another lie, but... it seems genuine enough. If it's any consolation, Oliwer seems legitimately uncomfortable now. "Right. I should get back to work. I'll speak to your supervisor tomorrow, yes? We'll work everything out." He doesn't leave immediately, but there's the sense that he'd like to. Lya only nods, her knees touching together, shoulders hunching and head bending. It might be best if Oliwer leaves. Perhaps she's just gathering herself, or maybe she's about to burst into tears. It's hard to say. The journeyman hesitates because he didn't mean to upset the girl. He just has strong feelings about this particular bronzerider. Oliwer doesn't say anything else, however, he simply clears his throat and turns to get back to his duties. |
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