Logs:Uncomfortable Encounters
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| RL Date: 14 November, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A Brief, stressful encounter in the infirmary. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, HRW |
| When: 8D 4M 39T I10, spring night |
| OOC Notes: Feel free to make any changes, edit, alter or adjust as needed. |
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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. It's early in the evening yet, and the Infirmary is about as busy as it usually is. There's a rather green looking weyrling sitting on one of the chairs, and a few healers are already restocking shelves and putting things to order. Amongst those seeking out the healer's skills, is Edyis engaged in conversation with one of the healers near a counter. "Every day, around the same time." The former scribe repeats the instructions as she clasps a small clay jar between her hands with a smile. The woman at the counter nods, which also seems a dismissal. Irianke is exiting an enclosed office, one of the more senior healers exiting behind her. The goldrider turns, her pivot bringing her face to face with the man, continuing a conversation from within, or concluding it. "I'm pleased with the numbers thus far. We're looking to hiring a few more nannies over the next half turn, so I imagine, well..." The slender woman shrugs looking past the healer to the rest of the infirmary and purses her lips. "As long as we can be sure to keep that sickness at bay. Could you please let Master Madilla know I'd like a meeting with her as soon as she's available?" Though posed as as question, it is anything but, and with a tacit nod, the meeting ends with Irianke walking towards the exit, the counter an intermediary between. As Edyis's path bears her in the direction of the exit, Irianke's voice and presence are both regarded with a faint lift of both brows, quickly resolved into a polite smile. "Good evening Weyrwoman." Is warm enough, the sealed jar going into the satchel hanging at the rider's side. "I hope the day finds you well?" "I'm free of rash and fever," is Irianke's morbidly gay response, though there's some agitation about her eyes and a solemnity on her mouth that isn't anywhere near cheerful. In fact, the Weyrwoman looks downright tired and a touch suspicious as she watches the sealed jar disappear into the satchel. "You? I hope you're well and there's nothing of major concern." Dark brows lift at the answer, and the curve of her mouth straightens. "I suppose that is something to be grateful for, is it really as bad as the rumors say?" As for her own health, "In good health, and no there are no concerns." Hooking her thumb under the strap of the bag as she falls into step. "Aye." Irianke's response is swift, without thought, and followed by the deepest shuddering breath. "Boll's first family has passed, Lady Jenilynn went before or after her husband. I can't keep straight. The Fort Weyrwoman's lost one of her children from what I've heard and now their junior goldrider and some of their Weyr has fallen ill. I've..." The Weyrwoman looks again to that bag, a frown pulling at her lips. "I've half a mind to require everyone to wear bubbles around them so we stay in the clear here." Edyis's lips press into a thin line at the news of Fort, brows drawing together roughly. "Has the Hall given guidelines, other than simply avoiding those areas which have been quarantined?" If she notices that glance at the bag it doesn't register in her expression. "Have any of the holds in our care reported cases of the disease?" "None that I've heard of yet. I'd hoped to speak with Madilla, but you take what you can get when you come to the infirmary these days," remarks Irianke, her hand waving to all the other healers on attending, just not the one she wants to speak to. "I am hoping she's not journeying around the area at the moment for her duties. From what I understand," and it seems very little given how ineffectually the Weyrwoman's capable hands flutter about, "It's moved so quickly and spread so fast the Healer Hall is just trying to keep just one step ahead of it and absolutely failing." There is an emphatic nod of agreement for taking what you can get when it comes to the infirmary staff. "I hope not either, though if it moves that quickly and it has already taken hold at a Weyr." Dark eyes close for a moment and she shakes her head. "Not that there's much to be done for it," She says upon opening them. "Is Fort the only weyr afflicted so far?" Irianke stills her hands against her legs and takes what might be a deep breath at first that shifts into a more shallow one halfway. Aware of this tell, the woman's cheeks pinken. "So far. But with Fort infected and who knows who's been visiting, I'll have to speak to K'del about Niahvth and Roszadyth making sure our dragons don't leave our coverage area. No visiting weyrmates at other Weyrs or friends. Or... are you sure you're fine?" The Weyrwoman is looking at that satchel again, the curiousity blatent in her dark blue-grey eyes. Ink-dark eyes widen, at the mention of not leaving the coverage area, knuckles whitening as her fingers clasp around the strap more tightly. The last question, however, earns a head tilt from the younger brownrider. "Yes, they just gave me a clean bill of health." Brows drawing together faintly when those eyes go to the satchel again. "I'm not sick," She answers trying to understand the unspoken concern, "If you must know," the brownrider lowers her voice, "It is a preventative against pregnancy." The faintest touch of pink to her ears with the admission. A mixture of relief, more curiosity, and that distinct sense of disapproval floods Irianke's face. In the end, relief is the one that wins out to claim the majority of her expression. "Well, at least it's not the Bollian plague. Is there," a smile finally creeps out on the goldrider's lips, helpless in the light of this news, "Someone in your life? Or several someones that pregnancy would be a concern?" The disapproval only earns the faintest twitch of her jaw, and a soft breath out. The smile while suspect is returned faintly in kind. "Yes," She answers to the first, and perhaps the need to justify the choice prompts an answer for the second. "There is a very strong history of complications and miscarriage on my mother's side of the family. It would pose a health risk, and I'd prefer not to endanger Akluseth." A silent brow twitch is not Irianke's only response to Edyis's justification. There's also that resurgence of a flush on her cheeks, having been caught out on her opinions. But that's all the brownrider will get, as the smile warms, perhaps for being called out, and the Weyrwoman says, "Congratulations. I hope you are happy. It's such an elusive thing and if anything, the news out of Fort reminds me that each day is precious so I hope you find at least one moment of happiness in each day." A sharper intake of breath, less nervous, and the kind that clears the sinuses, is followed by, "Luckily, none of our Holds are ill. But I fear it might only be luck that's had that happen. The other Weyrs repor..." But the goldrider's voice trails off, suddenly distracted. "Would you excuse me? Niahvth is speaking to the Benden senior queen and I'm afraid. I'm sorry, perhaps we'll talk again soon. Good luck." She nods towards the bag and then at Edyis. Edyis's expression softens, and there's a more formal salute. "Good luck." Those dark eyes tracking the woman's departure, and when she's out of sight the air deflates from her lungs. |
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