Difference between revisions of "Logs:Some Solid Advice"

Infirmary - Healer Hall

Brightly lit and cheery, this room has several couches near the entrance. Games of all sorts, along with fresh fruits and water, have been left here to help those visiting patients pass the time.

At the eastern end of the room is a fireplace with a pot of fresh water ready to be heated. A long counter nearby is perfect for preparing medicines.

The rest of the room is sectioned off by curtains, to provide private areas for patients to rest or be examined. The private areas seem unusually large, at first, until you realize they were made that way on purpose, so groups of Healers can visit any patient and learn from the patient's condition and treatment.

The smell of fresh herbs drifts through this room, and it appears to be kept very clean.

Cold, but dry, the afternoon wears on with thin sunlight in the Fort area. The main infirmary is steadily busy, a few people waiting to be seen, but progressing steadily through the available healers. Madilla, her hair pinned up to keep it consistently out of the way, ushers a woman with two small children towards the door, obviously mid conversation. "-- just for a few days. Like the Journeywoman said, it's nothing to be too concerned about, but keep an eye on it, and bring them back if anything changes for the worse. Okay?" The woman looks disgruntled, but departs, leaving Madilla to wipe her hands upon her apron, and turn back to the infirmary.

At which point a couple infirmary assistants squeeze past the woman and children to enter, and even if they don't work for this particular infirmary, they have the hide with their Weyrhealer's signature to prove they're legitimate. Or, at least, legitimate enough to be bringing a few bundles to the pharmacy and some gossip to one of the journeymen on duty, likely a friend or at least a solid acquaintance. In any case, they leave their ride in the dust. Leova gives the family all the room they need and then some, keeping that cautious distance until she can slip past toward the relative safety of the infirmary. Clear her throat. Step inside.

The arrival of the infirmary assistants causes just enough of an audible interruption that Madilla turns about sharply, as if expecting to find the infirmary flooded with new patients, something serious, or something. But it's just those assistants, and since they seem to know where they're going, she lets them pass unhindered. Which leaves Leova, whom Madilla notes with a flash of recognition - "Welcome back to the Hall, Greenrider," she says, resuming a position behind the check-in desk.

Which means that Leova knows where she's going, if only to the desk. And only to stand by it instead of sit, one of those accustomed and perhaps martial-looking stances with knees very slightly flexed instead of locked. "Thank you... apprentice. This count as a busy day, or is it pretty slow?" She glances to the others waiting, offers them a smile that nearly makes it to her eyes.

"Madilla," says the apprentice, supplying the name with a genuine smile. "We met a few months ago. Oh," she adds, giving a brief glance to the waiting patients scattered about the couches. "Pretty quiet, really. And nothing much more serious than a basic cold, which is good, too." There are a few sniffly noses among those waiting, plus a heavily pregnant woman who doesn't appear to be in labor, and a girl holding a makeshift ice-pack to a lump on her forehead.

"Very." Leova makes as though to wipe invisible sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, then turns that into just tugging off her knitted cap and clipping it to her belt. Which leaves hat-hair, but she doesn't seem to mind. Or notice. "And I do remember you. Hyssop! Not that I've had a chance to put it into practice, but you got me started before everything went down."

Though Madilla's face shows clear pleasure at having been remembered, the expression doesn't last long; Leova's words draw a more serious turn to her features, and, as her hands grasp the edge of the desk, she asks, "How are things up there, now? We heard about your 'fall, of course. I was very sorry to hear it."

"Thank you. And: better." Leova says it plainly, not as though it's time to celebrate. "Still have a few in our infirmaries, but most everyone's out. Maybe because it's been cold, but there was less infection than we had worried over, a blessing right there... But. You? Your studies. Seems like your knot's changed maybe?"

Madilla nods several times in succession, listening intently as Leova explains. "I am glad to hear that," she tells the greenrider, quietly, but with obvious sincerity. "I hope that's the last of it. For everyone, if we're lucky. I know Ista had a not-too-good fall, too." Despite her seriousness, her cheeks do flush pink at mention of her knot, and, again, she nods. "Made full Apprentice at the end of last turn. And I'm doing advanced pharmacy classes, too." There is distinctly more enthusiasm for the former achievement than the latter in her tone, though she concludes only, "So things are pretty good for me, I guess."

"About a month before ours. Yes. You remember these things." Leova does smile, despite the gravity of the topic, though there's wryness to it in the angle of her head, the slight pull to her mouth. "Congratulations, though. The tables. Does it make any difference other than the kinds of classes? Better spot in the dormitory, or anything? I hope..." It's not that she looks around, so much. More, the quality of listening for a moment, that leads to the greenrider's flicking her fingers toward the hidework. Her voice is quieter, though not a whisper. "That the writing doesn't make those pharmacy classes that much more difficult."

"You would. Remember them, I mean," agrees Madilla. "Some of the older Apprentices went to help. Some of them had never seem threadscore before." Unhappy for them, her expression suggests, wide-eyed and uncomfortable. "Thank you," she says, of the more pleasant subject. "Oh-- we get our food quicker, at meals. Slightly quicker," she amends, though cheerfully. "And I'm in a different dorm. Slightly older girls." Again, her cheeks flush, though not with pleasure, this time. "Not--" She keeps her own voice low, fingers roaming the things on the desk as if of their own accord. "Not /too/ much so. But. I have to work harder. And I'm getting better. Luckily, I'm good at memorising things."

Leova cuts past that into, "Have you?" The greenrider has a murmured guess of /warmer/ for the food, a less certain /quieter/ for the dorm, though she can't quite seem to lapse for good into the more comfortable areas of conversation. At least she can keep her glance from more than touching reflexively upon the fidgeting, rising again to read Madilla's expression. "Seems like that would be important. That's what you want to do, then? Pharmacy?"

Madilla shakes her head: no. And by her expression, doesn't really want to, either. Both the 'warmer' and 'quieter' get nods, though for the latter, she notes, "Except when they're gossiping about boys and clothes." Hastily flicking through some files left waiting on the desk, she keeps her attention to these as she corrects, "Pharmacy is what I'm /good/ at, excepting the writing."

"Guess that happens everywhere," Leova says dryly. "Good to know healers aren't... immune." She says it with a straight face, just that little pause in there. Steps sideways, a little, resuming her stance at an angle: room enough for a journeyman to check on things or a patient just to check in. "But. Don't sound thrilled: there something you'd rather do? Even if you're not so good at it yet."

Madilla's lip twitches with mirth at the 'immune' comment, though she manages not to laugh, retaining at least a semi-professional expression with which she glances around the waiting room - but no one seems to be paying any attention. "I think so," she agrees. "Just a teenage girl thing. Oh." Pressing her lips together, looking bashful, she admits, "I'd rather work with patients. Children, particularly. But everyone says I'm not pro-active enough. And, anyway, it's hard, when you do really well in one subject, and just okay in everything else. So."

Leova's expression gets wary all of a sudden, but then she must realize for /she/ laughs a little, low, and explains, "You must be brave. Children. But. What's this about pro-active, when it comes to healers anyway? Chase them down before they get hurt? Got to say that most people would go with what they're good at, be glad to be good at /something/... But. Seems as though if you're full apprentice, not like you still would have got some romantic notion of, I don't know, wafting around the infirmary and curing people of plagues with a soft word and a touch."

Madilla opens her mouth to respond, but then comes over one of the Journeymen, rescuing a file from the apprentice's hand, and calling over one of the sniffling patients-to-be. She waits until he's gone before resuming the conversation, putting the rest of the files down, out of the way. "I like children," she says, shrugging. "It's more--" Pursing her lips, she attempts to explain, "They say I'm not sure enough of what I'm doing. That I don't want to take charge, make a decision. In case I'm wrong. Though chasing people down before they get hurt... that's an idea." She cracks a smile, for that, looking rueful as she concludes, "It's nice to be good at something. But. I don't know." Amused, again, at that last comment, she adds, "Not sure I ever believed that. But... Yes. Exactly."

Leova gives the journeyman a mild don't-mind-me nod as he passes by, thereafter settling in to listen more closely. Nothing overt: just how her weight's rocked back to her heels a little more, shoulders counterbalancing, head slightly cocked. She nods, here and there. And then she's got a question: "How come they expect apprentices to be sure of what they're doing? I mean, you're still pretty early on with learning, right? If you're good enough to where you can specialize, not be in a smallhold and have to do everything, seems to me that there could be someone else who could handle trauma. And it's not as though making decisions can't be trained, some anyway."

"They don't, not really," says Madilla, quickly, her cheeks turning pink again, and her gaze grazing the desk-top so as to avoid looking at Leova. "They're just concerned. A healer has to be confident about what they're doing. Not like I /can't/ go into pediatrics, anyway... but they're just concerned. Some of them. So I'm trying. But I'm kind of terrified of," she lowers her voice again, "Getting things wrong, see. Killing someone by accident. So. That's all."

It takes a few more sentences, but Leova finally realizes, looks away, rubbing her forehead with her knuckles. "Could do that in the pharmacy too, seems like." Though she does glance back, say wryly, "Hope that didn't just make things worse."

Madilla just looks embarrassed, shakes her head. "That's the really dumb part," she explains. "Herbs don't worry me. Someone tells me what I need to make, I make it. Or what kind of thing they need. But either way, it's-- a step removed? Different, anyway. Just doesn't bother me, there." Leova rubs her forehead again, like that's going to help. "Do they have you do much... following an experienced healer around? And maybe he has you guess what he's going to say to do before he does it? That's what Rilsa, she's our senior dragonhealer, had us do. For practice. When there's a backup."

"You're studying Dragonhealing? What's that like?" Madilla wants to know, latching on to this subject as a rather more comfortable one, her gaze lifting again with eager curiosity. "Some," she adds, of the other question. "A lot, really. But there's so many apprentices, so we mostly do it in groups. And then I'm afraid of them teasing me, if I get it wrong." She looks wry. "Sounds pretty pathetic."

"The arteries get sketched in green ink instead of red," but Leova isn't ready to be distracted quite /that/ easily. Instead she follows up, even has a slight headshake for pathetic-ness, maybe though more for irrelevance than as refutation. "What about guessing in your head? You're the one who's got to know if you're getting it right, so's you can count on yourself. Or..." She hesitates, gives Madilla a closer look. "Don't know what all you have for free time. But. If you want it real bad, maybe look up someone who understands, journeyman or master even. Ask if you can shadow him on your off hours instead. Through lunch. Whatever. Figure he'll probably have better ideas than what I got, too... But you got to want it bad enough."

Madilla makes a face at the green ink comment, opening her mouth in readiness to push further, but Leova's focus upon her own problem draws her back to that, instead. "I suppose that's worth a try," she says, very slowly, apparently thinking her way through the idea - which? Both, maybe - with pursed lips and glazed eyes. "I /do/ want it. I do." A stubborn focus lifts her shoulders and juts out her chin; she nods, then. "Thank you, for the ideas. I hadn't thought of them."

"Been through... not that, but something like," Leova says with a lift of her shoulder that isn't quite self-deprecating, just factual. Only then motion past Madilla catches her eye, and she speaks more quickly, quietly. "Get a friend to keep an eye on you, if it comes to that. Make sure you get enough sleep, grab a meatroll if you're going to miss lunch, because you get worn down hard enough, makes everything else. And..." No time. Here come the infirmary assistants with their gear, getting close enough that she settles for a, "Thank you for your good wishes, Apprentice Madilla. And good luck with your future studies." An equally formal nod, a far less formal hint of a smile, and she prepares to lead them off.

Madilla ohs, curiosity visible in her expression again, though she makes no move to query further. "Thanks, again," is all she manages to get out, in response to the rest of Leova's advice, along with several short, sharp nods. "Duties to your weyr, and your dragon, Rider Leova," she adds, hastily. "Thanks." She grins, then ducks her head, back to the work she's been-- shuffling.

"Vrianth," Leova tosses over her shoulder just as she leaves. "She says you should know her name is Vrianth."

"Vrianth, then," says Madilla, but softly - Leova's already gone. "Vrianth."