Difference between revisions of "Logs:Replacing Misinformation"

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.

Evening. Here in the dragon infirmary it's dark but warmer than such a large stone cavern rightly should be, courtesy of the dim light-reflecting pool of heated water that's sized on a draconic scale. Even so, there's a brazier situated by the counter behind which a woman sits next to a single unlidded glowbasket, staring moodily at the fine linen-wrapped object before her. The object that, as it turns out, is linked to a sleeve... which rises to the shoulder upon which is the greenrider's knot... in turn leading to the fleece collar that rises high about her neck, just below her short hair. The object: her hand. She exhales, slow, controlled. Beyond her glowbasket, and the pool, all else is dark.

Out in the bowl, snow is once again coating the stoney ground, undoing much of the shoveling that has been done off and on throughout the day. It is possible the candidate that now enters had been working on said shoveling just a moment before, because there is snow obviously coating his shoulders and the top of his knit hat. A quick shake dislodges much of it, but not all. Perhaps it's the process of leaving the white driven snow and entering the dark cavern, but it takes Kaeden a couple seconds to notice the glow-lit counter, and another second to realize there's a rider near it. The candidate quickly removes his hat and raises a hand to wave. There is a moment of looking back toward the bowl, but rather than retreat, he moves forward. "Is it okay to be here?" he asks, once he's close enough for easy conversation. "Just been... y'know, curious." His dark eyes land on her wrapped hand for a moment, then back up to Leova's face. "You all right?"

By the time he looks up, she's already looking at him, quiet and level. Whatever the natural color of her eyes, here they reflect a yellowed green. Then one corner of her mouth tips up, and with her good hand, she lifts two fingers: half a wave, hinting at a salute, not committing to either one. "Depends," she says, and with the twist of her wrist those fingers turn and curl into a beckon. This way. Though, "You tracking snow all over? Have a mind to get into our supplies. Try some experiments. Skinny-dip in the pool. Write your name on the wall with redwort? Not like it's an exhaustive list, mind. But if not, reckon it's fine. Tonight." As though that were what he asked. Her voice is smoky beneath the Tillek accent, or would be if there weren't that detached, dry humor.

At first, Kaeden starts to reply with, "Oh, no I..." while halfway hooking a thumb toward the bowl and the diminishing trail of sparse water connecting the bowl to his boots. As Leova continues, however, the candidate falls silent, shaking his head toward the end. "No, ma'am. Just wanted to see the cavern," he promises, adding an uncertain smile to the end of the assurance. "Just wanted to see what an infirmary made for dragons might look at. His own voice and tone is nothing but 'Reaches, though more specific to the Hold. It is open and smooth in that particular way only young adults can maintain, before age starts giving it color. "You do experiments?"

"Mm. Might say we experiment, sometimes, but not so much that we do experiments." Her bandaged hand stays put on the counter even when she shifts forward to the edge of the stool, as though it were nailed in place. "Won't carve up a dragon to learn on, see. It's only if they manage it anyway. Look if you like." The greenrider, the dragonhealer gives him a few moments before adding, "Is it what you imagined?" If he did.

Kaeden takes in the rider's input with an expression more vague than vacant. He's listening, but in the manner of the uninitiated. At Leova's question, he turns his head a couple degrees, then looks around the cavern in a slow, pondering way before grinning at her. "Great big cavern. Yup. The pool is a nice touch. Didn't expect that." After being sheltered from the weather as much as the cavern offers, he is apparently warm enough to also remove his gloves, which he tucks into the knit hat. "You said, 'we', so... you work in here, then? You're a dragonhealer?"

"We're lucky to have it," Leova says briefly, brief as her smile in response to his grin. But it's two-cornered, this time. "Weyrlings use it, when the lake's frozen, or 'fore they can get that far." Does he get that assessing glance often, riders sizing him up as to how he might do as one of them? "And aye, I do. Dragonhealer, wingrider: don't have to be a rider to learn dragonhealing, but unless things go really south, it helps. Name's Leova. How are you with fixing things? And what's your name."

"Kaeden," the candidate supplies first, all in a rush, and accompanied by an easy sort of smile. "I didn't know that... I mean, I don't know much about what you do, just what I heard growing up. I'm from the Hold." He takes a slower look around this time, picking out more specific nooks and crannies before he continues answering. "As for fixing..." Kaeden starts just before turning back to Leova, "I... sort of." He shifts his feet and tucks his hat under an elbow long enough to unbutton his coat. "Where I work--ed, I fixed schedules. If that makes sense. Only so many hands to make the cargo move. Gotta use the hands logically, right? Don't know about fixing other stuff, though."

Apparently dragonhealers like gadgets, because there are several in those nooks, implements that are clean but scarred from use. Some are outsized, some are not. Leova gives him time to scope things out, and to fidget with his coat, though her gaze seems to linger on the latter. "Mm. Scheduling's important here too. Not likely as much, at least unless you listen to the person who's pissed because he didn't get the half-day he wanted and someone else did." Then, "So. Kaeden. What did you hear growing up? At the Hold." She's got that one-cornered smile again. But then off a ways, in the darkness of the cavern, something... moves.

"Yeah?" Kaeden begins, a hopeful sort of expression on his face that just misses looking pathetic. Hopefully. "I kind of like scheduling. It's like a puzzle." He's about to answer her last question when the moving is spotted in the corner of his vision. Mouth closes as he turns in that direction. "Oh, uh..." he begins, then trails off before turning back to Leova. The question is on his face, but he doesn't actually ask what that was, instead haltingly offering, "Mostly that... healers for, uh... for dragons... were riders." He swallows quickly, feet shifting again. "I've discovered a lot of the stuff I learned growing up at the Hold is pretty much made up, though. Or hearsay. Or just... people trying to sound smart. It's kind of ridiculous." His glove-stuffed hat is kneaded slightly in his hands as he gives the moving shape a last glance. "Did, uh... did you come from a hold? Or here?"

It's hard to distinguish much within the darkness. Not when it's still, at least. But when he looks back that last time, there's something sinuous and serpentine that halfway seems to slither. It could be a dragon's tail. Surely it's a dragon's tail, and not a gigantic tunnelsnake. Leova, who's been watching Kaeden and his reactions with some bemusement, now says, "At least that one thing is pretty much true, at least. Not like some things people say, hm? I came from a Hold. Tillek." She starts to straighten out her arms in a stretch. This time her hand moves, and she freezes, brown face suddenly paler until her next caught breath that's simultaneous with a sharp scratch from the darkness. But she exhales. It quiets. Then, "What was the most ridiculous thing? That you've heard, that wasn't so. So far."

Kaeden seems to be finding it hard to divide his attention between the serpentine thing and Leova, though the scratch from the darkness isn't enough to pull his attention away from Leova's obvious pain. "Oh, you know... mostly stuff about orgies and chaos. Is it broken? Your hand?" he continues, moving off-hand into his own question as he nods his chin toward the linen-wrapped object.

"Never happens here," Leova says in a way that should be reassuring, though there's that emphasis on here. Right here. Right where they're standing, or half-sitting, in her case. She eyes her hand with disfavor, then. "Strained something in my wrist, which might wind up being worse. And the cuts have a way to heal. If you fall, make sure you don't plant your hand straight out to catch yourself, hear me?" And while she's asking him questions, "Had much time to think about the eggs, what's coming out of them, what your hopes are? I hope you didn't leave a really good position, back at your Hold."

Kaeden seems to at least take Leova's first statement as reassuring. There's a barely palpable feeling of relaxing, accompanied by a short nod, which then turns into a curious expression as he looks down at her hand again. "Oh right... that was in a class. Roll, don't brace. Or uh..." His sentence trails off as he frowns, focus wandering somewhere to his right as he tries to remember the rest of that training course. "Go limp. That was it. Easier to say, right?" He starts to give the rider a crooked smile, but it falters, feet shifting yet again. "Well... sort of. I guess. I left a job I liked at the Hold, but I'm no one special. As for hopes..." Kaed hunches one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Still figuring out that part, though I think... I think I could do the job. If it happened to me. Thinking about staying even if it doesn't. That would be okay, right?"

"Much easier," Leova says, with feeling. And an attendant grimace. "Heard it, taught it, but still..." She shrugs, one-shouldered, only to wince all over again. This time, there isn't a scratch-sound in response but rather a snort, far more forceful than any runner's, one that has her glancing in that direction with a curious smile. But to Kaeden again, "Mm." And then, "If you want to. I reckon so. And if you don't break the rules and mouth off to people and start fighting duels in the galleries or anything. Any other questions, while you got me here? I'll be needing to get back to work shortly." Work that is, presumably, more than just staring at what's supposed to be her writing hand.

Kaeden doesn't exactly jump at the snort coming from the shadows, but he does tense and stare in that direction for a long moment before giving Leova first a side glance, then his full attention. "No, ma'am," he replies quickly, halfway holding up his empty hand, dismissing the need for more questions. Or maybe the ideas about him breaking any rules. It's ambiguous. "I'd better get back to quarters, really. Thank you, Leova." He quickly tugs his hat back onto his head, though he just holds onto the gloves. It's not that cold. There is a last parting smile for the greenrider before he adds, "If you need help with work, or... writing and stuff," with another glance to the bandaging, "I'd be happy to lend a hand." He gives her a layman's salute, then, and turns to remove himself from the cavern, disappearing into the snowy night.

Leova's "Appreciate it," is distincty more reluctant than her earlier you're-welcome, but ruefully so. She does watch him begin to depart, but then turns aside to what tasks she can manage. But just as Kaeden walks past the creature in the dark? There's an excessively dramatic snap of jaws, underscored by scrabbling stone-scratching claws and a sense of movement that just might become a lunge. If he doesn't hurry. And if he doesn't? There's always the roar. It's enough to make the green's rider cover her eyes. With her good hand.