Logs:Transfers Get a Check-Up
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 4 October, 2014 |
| Who: Leova, X'vae, Izazeth, Vrianth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Even on Pern there's paperwork and initial appointments, if not the need for health insurance. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 12, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, U'sot/Mentions, Y'rel/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
    |
| Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr The vast cavern has much the same odor of redwort and numbweed as the human infirmary, though here it's seasoned with coppery ichor rather than the iron of blood. It's also laid out similarly though on a much more massive scale, its walls lined with a number of places for patients, in this case large dragon couches recessed into the floor for ease of access; nearby cots provide space for riders. Tucked into the western curve is a huge circulating pool of warm water, by which are kept vats of oil. The healers' duty station is a counter on the north side of the room, a checkpoint before the storage rooms behind it that are now shared with the human infirmary, hosting supplies that are as neatly labeled and carefully scrubbed as the rest of the infirmary. The senior dragonhealer has an office there as well, and human-sized double doors have recently been built as a direct route to the human infirmary, while opposite a wide winding tunnel leads to the east bowl.
Izazeth's glide is efficient and his landing made near the wide entrance to the dragon infirmary. His rider's dismount is equally simple with the grace of one turns into his riderhood. They enter the infirmary together, companionably. The blue's gaze ranges about with great interest, eyes whirling a healthy and excited blue-green. It's not that he likes check-ups, of course, but rather, this is a new space to explore, to learn from. The bluerider approaches the duty station, leaving his dragon to regard the pool with interest. He's not in the way is he? The rider pauses at a respectable distance to wait for acknowledgment before saluting crisply. "Izazeth and X'vae, reporting as requested, ma'am." It's polite, it's clean, it's professional. What's not to like? The attention, the instructions to stand this way and that, the prodding... on second thought, at least most of that comes later. The greenrider's already looking towards them as they enter, amber eyes intent. "Leova," she says once she's snapped off her own salute, walking a few paces towards the younger rider but not so far as to meet him. "Vrianth's." It's the dragon to whom her gaze turns, before it moves once more to the rider. She hasn't yet opened the slate she holds. "How's he doing here, X'vae? So far." "Better than Yizibeth," X'vae relates with a sigh, turning away from the healer to return to Izazeth, assuming that a dragonhealer will want to see the dragon and all that. "Izazeth believes in the reasoning behind why we left. Yizi... well, she's here because Z'riah came, and that's different than knowing for yourself that you've taken the right course." He frowns, "He says it's challenging to transfer one's loyalty to new queens, but he's doing his best. He also says he's excited to see so many new things to explore. And that he likes your snow. Our snow. The snow here." It takes a few incarnations of wording to get that right, but the lopsided smile from the transfer shows there's no nefarious purpose behind the words. Leova's got a low chuckle for that last, but doesn't stop surveying the dragon in front of her with that professional eye. Sticking with what's in her purview for starters, "Any more physical issues? Dry hide, say. Dry membranes, even. Difficulty with the landings, ice and black ice and all. Congestion. Just plain feeling cold all the time?" This time, she does look around the blue's shoulder to his rider. "We're oiling a little more often," X'vae relates, "though I expect that's as much adjustment as anything. It's different here." Certainly the winter weather is anyway. "He says his left wing bothers him 'a touch' more. We strained it trying to fly early in weyrlinghood and it's been a little sensitive ever since." He moves to place a hand on the blue's side, stroking there lightly. "All in all, we think he's doing as well as might be expected. None of the feeling cold all the time thing." "Mm. Suppose it is a trifle." There's a one-cornered smile, right before the dragonhealer examines the arc of his dragon's ribs, the crease of his haunch. No scars, not yet. Nothing worth writing down there, though a little later she does take out her slate and jot a few marks. When she writes, the implement naturally covers most of the thin, silvery scars that cross that hand's palm, though some streak further out. "Glad to hear coping's going well. Nothing else of note? Boringly healthy all his life?" she asks before requesting that Izazeth adjust his stance, that with a nod to the measurement marks on the walls. "Well, there was that one time he contracted dragon leprosy..." X'vae starts but Izazeth snorts, so even if Leova had bought in to the bad joke, there's dismissal for her. "No, sorry," the bluerider says, laughing, "boring. Totally." Then, "Oh, though he did have an extra tooth. They removed it when it seemed to be crowding the others as he grew. It was-- five or so turns back?" Easy to see how something so simple might slip the mind. The blue would adjust his stance as requested, except that he's craning his neck to try to see what Leova's writing about him. There's a laugh for that, easy and quiet. "Wouldn't that be a sight," Leova says, almost... wistfully? Certainly the dragonhealer's glance towards the blue's head is quick, interested, but she's still stepping back for a better look at him as a whole. There's no move to protect her writing, might not be even if it weren't shorthand. The curve that loosely echoes a dragon's neck-to-tail might be more recognizable, albeit upside down. "How'd they go about that? Have a queen sit on him, something else? Reckon pulleys played a role." X'vae thinks before he speaks, another fine quality in a rider. "Zaisavyth helped," though he doesn't get very specific on the 'how.' "He's-- a very reasonable dragon, as these things go, I'm given to understand. If you explain to him what's happening and why, and why it's necessary, he's generally quite good about doing what needs to be done. It wasn't pleasant, of course. But he forgot once the ache was gone and I haven't really thought of it much since, though I kept the tooth." This remark heralds a silent realization that makes him frown. "They got it before he was very large, so there wasn't need for pulleys. Even our lone interesting story is boring, I'm afraid." Nor does Leova ask him to get specific. She's gazing up at his dragon yet again. "Mm. Rare, that," wry. Reasonable. It's followed by a brisk nod and striding off to grab a step stool for those few steps' extra height. Along the way, "Good on them. Glad they made it easier than it might have been. Glad, too, it's one of the ones that came in earlier than the last. Any of his siblings have it, sire, dam?" Dragon necks are flexible, but even so, she waits until she's moved square on to his chest and back a ways before saying, "Open wide." It might be a more fun examination if Izazeth were the type of blue to let his tongue loll out to greet the dragonhealer, but he's not. Very boring indeed. He does just as he's asked, opening his maw, and even helpfully shifting his tongue as best he can to indicate where X'vae remembers the tooth having been, once upon a time. "Not that they were aware of, but they said these things sometimes happen." Leova's got a glow-tube, and she's not afraid to use it. Unhooking it from her belt, giving it a shake before uncapping it, those are practiced motions. Checking out the spot in question doesn't take terribly long either, though once she goes so far as to brace a hand on one of his upper teeth for a better view. He's not, after all, Lythronath. "Mm." Later, "Mm-hm." An exhale, and she steps down. "They do. Wasn't so long ago as how we'd be too busy for this sort of thing, but now, why not? Have to train up the next set somehow." Not that Leova's got a trainee here and now. Though, "Don't suppose the other one, Yizibeth, has anything you'd think unusual? We do get hidework on you lot, but often they sum up, less writing to do and all." It's less with a grimace, more matter-of-fact. Izazeth is not Lythronath, doesn't even know Lythronath, but might spend hours and days trying to understand Lythronath, even though he's a gasp! blue. All of this is to say that he doesn't snap Leova's hand off as she rests it on his teeth. Nor does he react much other than to lick his maw like she left behind a funny taste once she's finished. "Not especially unusual, although--" X'vae clears his throat, "You'd be doing us all a favor if you didn't imply there was anything wrong with her, at all. She's-- sensitive." The bluerider says it meaningfully. "Like... a teenage girl about to go on her first date," X'vae suggests the comparison. "Or maybe a bride on her wedding day is more apt." What with the way brides can explode. Leova may lift one brow more than the other, but they both still go up. "And people have gone along with that. All this time?" She's got a rag, and wipes her hands before putting the glowtube back. Of the other tools at her belt, she doesn't get any out. Yet. "Oh, no. No, of course not." X'vae relates ruefully. "It's just that... we used to be neighbors. And we were clutchmates before that. And now we live in one of those weyrs that's good for roommates. So, we'll all have to hear about it until she forgets." From the way he says it, it sounds like she has a good memory for that kind of thing, or maybe it just feels that way to those around her. "Mm." Leova considers the bluerider, now, with much the same intentness she'd given his dragon. At length, "Can see where that wouldn't be comfortable. Her rider, though. He all right with that sort of thing? Might try writing it down, if he is." Might. "If she isn't one as who'd just grab it from his head anyhow." "I suspect Z'riah would be used to that sort of thing." X'vae admits with an amused smile. "They had their share of weyrlinghood-- er, adjustments let's call them." He doesn't flinch under her examination. He's easy, self-assured, and still earnest. "I think most times she can't or won't take from his head. Better that way for everyone." Leova's laugh is, this time, short enough to approach a cough. "For that sort, aye. If he's so used to it," she stops short of the conclusion. "How's he take it when you're the one hurt? Sick. Upset. Mad. Not to imply there'll ever be a need." "Z'riah?" X'vae questions, sounding confused. Then, "Oh, oh. Zaz. He's-- sort of an interesting blend of logical and empathetic. It really depends on the severity of the hurt. We've not, thankfully, had much experience with the worst sorts of hurt." He has all his limbs after all. "Minor things, he-- is usually a rock." "Mm. Good on him, then. Wish there were more like that," Leova says pragmatically. "Felt anything like homesick, yet? Don't know as it's harder for them or for us. And," coming back to it, "how's he when he's not a rock?" The bluerider is quiet some moments, that thinking thing again. "Emotional, but not hysterical." It's easiest to answer the last question, so he does that first. X'vae's jaw sets and shoulders shift to be a little more squared before he answers, "This is home. Nothing to be homesick for." Except all the things he could be and probably is. Leova's is a brief nod. She makes a note. Notes, now. No remark on his body language. "Suppose dragons have the edge on us long-run, anyhow. Would be a rare man as who wouldn't want to look back to something." Her low, smoky voice puts it out there without varnish one way or the other. This time, X'vae doesn't need to think. "Would it be less rare to find a man who knows he shouldn't and therefore doesn't?" "Look? Pretty near by definition. Want..." the greenrider's wryness is not unamused. Leova doesn't move to fill the silence she's made. Until, a few moments later, "By the by. They fit you out all right for oil? You know about coming here for refills? Got a few different blends to try out." The bluerider looks a little blank when Leova makes the distinction, but thankfully he need not linger on what he doesn't really follow because there's business to be discussed. "They got us a starting supply, but no, we weren't told--" about the rest. X'vae has his best attentive face on. "Please," do tell, teacher! Leova does so. In short: some are thicker, some thinner, some smell better but may not be as effective as those with fish oil, some have emollient herbs, so on and so forth. She'll go into as much detail as he'll take in, adding, "Most find they like to change it up, seasons being so different and all. I've liniment for that left wing when he needs it, too." She takes a few more notes. Her hand stills. Then, carefully, "He get aggressive much, flights-wise?" He takes it all in. Even if X'vae starts to open his mouth at one point to perhaps deter further explanation, a look from Izazeth has him shutting it again immediately and resuming his apprentice-attentive expression. "Aggressive?" The word sounds almost foreign as X'vae repeats it. He can't help laughing, and perhaps that's because his answer to the question is, "Amorous." The look he gives his blue is fond if perhaps a little teasing. Leova isn't laughing, though his laughter's infectious enough that she permits a one-cornered almost-smile. But. "Best you keep an eye out for Lythronath. Kinda stripey in the body, mid-size bronze, dark streaky wings. We've had some problems with him. Though like as not you won't get into a tussle with him, it not being a queen flight." Not that some green flights aren't violent in their own right. "Lythronath," X'vae repeats the name likely to internalize it, nodding. "Thank you." Why, yes, he'll take any tips that help keep Izazeth from being here for anything other than a check-up. "Is his rider--?" The same? Also aggressive? Incompetent? The bluerider doesn't really clarify the question, probably purposefully so. "Works on him, A'rist does. But when blood's drawn," Leova lifts one shoulder, lets it fall. She adds a couple other names, but notes, "Most of 'em behave all right. The flight weyr," weyrs really, "you know where that is?" X'vae's expression hardens briefly for the seriousness of the first remarks, nodding. There's more repeats for each of the names, and inquiries to make sure he has the names of both in a pairing. Whether or not he'll remember when it's important... well, one can hope. "Yes. Zaz chased here once or twice before when we were in the area." Though he doesn't elaborate on their reasons. Isn't it always duties? "I was going to ask," and now seems as good a moment as any, "how they handle taking on trainees here? I've had a little training and would like more, if it could be arranged." Surely, Leova is the one to know the answer to these things. "Good." Reasons don't fall into Leova's need-to-know, it seems. Or care, likely. "Mm. Training's doable, for someone with the patience. Attentiveness." She considers the bluerider. "Here's what to do. Have your head dragonhealer write U'sot a letter as how it's been, working with you. Then wait till full-on spring, when you got an idea of what it's like settled into your wing... and if you still want to once the ice's gone and the daylight's back." This time, that one-cornered smile's unhindered. "If you do? Come see me. We'll see what you know and what's same, what's different from how we do things here. See what you have time for, what fits with our schedules. Questions?" Wrinkles appear in X'vae's brow as he considers. "I'll-- see what I can do, ma'am, but the truth of things is that my mother is a good friend of the head dragonhealer and I didn't depart Monaco with any well-wishers." He sucks in his lower lip for a moment, considering, "How would one who has never studied before go about becoming a trainee?" "Mm." Leova eyes him more assessingly and then, abruptly, nods. "One of the others would do. Or, we can start from scratch, not like we take their word like Faranth's own anyhow. Everything else's the same." Then, "Funny thing: one of the girls as wanted to train, she went to Monaco. And here you are coming in from there, not as she's not back herself." "I'll try." X'vae commits that much. Then he's raising brows at the dragonhealer, "Really? You wouldn't happen to mean a scribe about yay high?" He demonstrates Edyis' approximate height with a hand. "Dark hair, suspicious nature?" Leova gauges. Then, "About that. Don't know as I'd say 'suspicious.'" She directs a meaningful glance to the cavern at large, though: not like there's much here to be suspicious of. "Edyis, out of Nabol. Works hard at learning what's under the sun, I'll say that for her." "Hm." X'vae's noise and expression speak of true consideration. "Maybe it's just Monocoans that weren't thrown out that she's suspicious of then." He tries to sound wry, only it doesn't quite get all the way there. He shrugs; he won't let it bother him at any rate. The dragonhealer nods. There's a shrug from her, too. And a change: "Riding for Y'rel, are you?" It's right before she folds her slate and, after explaining to Izazeth, moves to check a few more things. Some of it might be considered prodding or poking. None of it bears the urgency of a problem suspected, only due diligence. "Working out so far?" "So far," X'vae nods, though it's not been long, to be sure. "We'll miss doing search and rescue as we did in Monaco, but-- there will be times, I'm sure, when we can help." Aren't there times when all hands are needed? Izazeth reacts to the poking and prodding amiably, though occasionally with noises of complaint when she touches more sensitive areas. The bluerider rolls his eyes and then schools his expression in answer. "Y'rel and H'kon seem a good sort." He observes without apparent aim other than to make the comment aloud. Possibly the dragonhealer might have worried if there weren't complaint. She doesn't aggravate it, at least. "Appreciate working hard, working regular, not handing out shit," Leova agrees as far as that goes. There's a glint to her amber eyes when she adds, "Mellowed some, has H'kon." She steps back, stashing her slate and then wiping her hands with an air of finality. "Any questions? Long as you're here." "Yeah?" This is to H'kon having mellowed. It's said in a tone that doesn't expect an answer, but rather simply suggests he has a hard time imagining what less mellow would have looked like, given... well, H'kon. There's a simple shake of his head then, "None that I can think of just now, thank you, Dragonhealer Leova. Anything else from us?" Or are they done? Izazeth might look the tiniest bit hopeful. No expectation, and yet. "Even he was a weyrling," Leova mentions rather dryly, perhaps inviting imaginings when wing meetings get old. "Reckon we're set, bluerider. Izazeth." Her nod's as much for the dragon as the man before she turns away to her other work. |
Leave A Comment