Difference between revisions of "Logs:Healed and Done"

While Jocelyn doesn't make a habit of visiting C'thoun and his brown much in the first seven following the pair's injury, Aidavanth checks in every now and then with Dathath to gauge how he's feeling and inquire after his rider, solicitous and cheerful. Her rider, as hands-on as Leova permitted during the initial exam, has an easier bedside manner with dragons than humans. At the very least, Jocelyn's taken some interest in following the older dragon's case as her schedule permits. Having volunteered to accompany Vrianth's when it's time for Dathath's fourteen-day follow-up, she's a polite enough presence during the examination, asking questions here and there and otherwise keenly observing what's said and done. Once they're back on the ground, to Leova: "I'm thankful that it isn't as big of a production to set one of our bones." Smaller scales are, at times, helpful.

Hands on had happened, hands on and minds on. Once Leova had confirmed the fracture closed and the bone aligned, nearly as clean a break as it could possibly have been, there was plenty of leeway to let the neophyte have at it. Which meant... a balancing act. Aidavanth calming Dathath while Jocelyn watches, that's one thing. Observing while also taking in information from Vrianth via Aidavanth, channeled from Dathath and Leova both, that's another. Then came Aidavanth's sensing from Dathath directly, while having to keep his emotions separate despite the closer linkage, on top of everything else. Assessing. Cleaning. Tending. If Dathath had become too distressed or the younger dragon too distracting... but they hadn't, and the incipient infection several days later had subsided, and at the moment all seems well. Except the weather, maybe. Leova eyes the sky with its heavy layer of clouds before saying, "Aye. And he wasn't even misaligned." The might-have-been gains a weighty moment of silence, though the greenrider's also moving to haul their gear inside. "Ever broke anything, yourself?"

"Sprained an ankle some turns back, but no breaks yet, " Jocelyn answers, automatically reaching over to help with the gear retrieval. "Sounds painful." There's a glance up to Aidavanth, a subsequent grimace. "If it feels anything like what she's relayed from him, I think I'll pass on the experience." Despite the frown that tugs at her features, her silence afterward seems more thoughtful than broodily discontent. "Did you ever think you'd end up where you are now? Dragonhealing. Vrianth."

"Sprains can drag on longer, long as the bone heals fine. Healed and done, y'know? Hope your sprain didn't lag," though the lift of Leova's brows, more than the lilt in her voice, makes it a question before she heads for the infirmary proper. Vrianth's watched them at work in freeing her, that faceted gaze of hers so intense, and she shifts her haunches and finest wingsails in preparation to be gone. "Vrianth..." can't help but be an endearment in her rider's smoky voice, for all that she's preoccupied too. But, "Can't say as I did. Was Rilsa as got my foot in the door, back when I was a candidate there was this scavenger hunt, excuses to roam around and ask people things. She was senior dragonhealer then. Half liked that we did that, those hunts, though I s'pose there were other things to be doing."

Jocelyn makes a little noise that sounds more or less like agreement, carefully following in Leova's wake. Aidavanth, rather than making to vacate this side of the bowl for the other, springs aloft to settle on the rim above the infirmary, perhaps in the hopes of catching some sunlight as the clouds continue their ever-present shift overhead. "I'm not sure I see the purpose in a scavenger hunt for preparing a prospective dragonrider for their training, " the redhead muses aloud, "but exposure to a wide range of places, people and roles - that is a practical application." Pale eyes slant a side-glance toward the older woman, then: "I don't think I've ever reflected this much in my life on where I'm been, where I am, where I'm going." But milestones do that sort of thing, particularly when they involve significant changes in one's circumstances. Perhaps it's more of an admission than she intended, for she clears her throat, busies herself after with making sure that the implements and instrumentation she carries end up back in their rightful places.

Nor does Leova comment to it directly, yet, despite her own thoughtful glance. "Some are inspired by a 'game,'" she says with brief amusement, "and others, competition. Don't remember what the prize was, though there was one. Beyond, well. 'Winning.'" She sets about refilling her satchel, but there's another long look Jocelyn's way.

"Competition. Ambition. Some might say those are very much the same thing, " Jocelyn says lightly enough, hands clasping rigidly behind her back once she's out of objects with which to hide her urge to fidget. What she'd like to say to Leova is, for at least a moment, written all over her expression as she permits some uncertainty to show, however briefly. What she says, instead? "I'd like to continue studying with you as my schedule permits, even after my knot changes."

"They can be." Quiet. Simple, near-neutral. Warmer: "I'd like to have you." A bottle rests, there in Leova's curled hand. No fidgeting for her, but only stillness. Though, "'U'sot will,' I should say." Should still say.

Something in there makes the corners of Jocelyn's mouth quirk upward, a genuine, if small smile relaxing her countenance. "Good. Thank you." That curl of hands behind her back relaxes a fraction, as does the set of her shoulders into something less rigid. Quieter, then: "Do you think I'm ready?" Those administering her final evaluations get the prompt and precise recitations, essays, physical performances which she consistently demonstrates. Leova gets an honest question, given in much the same way as the 'do you think I can do this?' of nearly a decade ago, hours after a meeting with Giorda.

"Ready to take it on." Still quiet. Serious. "Come," Leova says, and she moves toward the circulating pool. Warmth rises from it, and humidity, so rare in this season. The noises it makes are quiet too, a ceaseless flow that's barely there. One chair, two. Leova sits. "Where do you see yourself, Jocelyn? Right now," no commitment for always.

Jocelyn's hands shift a little in her lap once she's settled, jaw setting. "I - we - aim to do our best by our home. I never could have planned for taking on this role, but I did once imagine that at some point, I'd be behind Jounine's desk managing parts of the weyr that way. I want to excel, " naturally. "Someone asked once how I'd like to be remembered. I'd like to be remembered as having been fair and involved in making good, solid decisions for the future of this place. Everything else will be all but superficial to the historical records." A pause, then: "I'd like to serve here as long as circumstances will permit."

"Mm." That last. Leova's gaze drifts beyond them and back, steady. "Don't like to think of one having cause to have you leave. Even when, especially when, all 'cause' needs is a wish. But. Like to think you're doing the right thing, to not be wanted to go, or if you must leave then on the best terms." A brief pause. "Don't know if there's been word on Irianke's return."

Jocelyn doesn't like to think of it either, says her tight nod, even as pale eyes turn briefly to the pool before tracking back to the other rider. "It would change things if she had to stay in Igen, " the High Reaches native says slowly, so carefully. "Farideh's - young, even still, " and she's probably not just referring to her chronological age. "Volatile. I can't say that I'd cope any better than she has, were I in her shoes, but - " Her gaze grows distant, then focuses sharply once more. "We'd give it our all." For all that it's a softly voiced admission, it's a determined one.

"Want to think Farideh tries." Leova's voice is slow. "Appreciated that she did, when she studied here. But. Different approaches. Irianke... know you worked with her, beforetimes. Feel like you had much of a handle on her, the way she was? Even with you a weyrling, seems like she'd begin like she meant to go on."

For anyone else, even for Lys, Jocelyn would rearrange her expression into something evenly neutral to go with her response. There's a breath released, but her brow puckers into a frown. "Different approaches, " Aidavanth's agrees. "Before, I was another face in the lower caverns, maybe even helpful a time or two. Most of our interactions after, she seemed set on trying to push any and all of my limits. Sometimes, I met her challenge. Sometimes, I suspect I disappointed her." That last apparently hasn't bothered her much, if at all, for her shoulders roll into a quick up-and-down-again shrug. "She must have chosen her approach on purpose. I would have, I think, if I were in that knot elsewhere, working with a trainee."

"What do you think her purpose is?" is Leova's quiet, simple question. This isn't a quiz. Isn't, in Leova's hands, a test.

Jocelyn can only speculate, really, and the set of pale eyes to amber indicates as much. "Perhaps, " she allows at some length, "getting nothing less than my best efforts. She doesn't miss much, " dryly, "and everyone knows that my loyalty to this weyr is such a well-kept secret." Almost sheepishly: "I - let her get under my skin, near the beginning, with talk of Monaco, their one queen, and our three."

"Jocelyn," is just as quiet, but smoky-warm. Sympathetic. "Sounds like she's keeping you on your toes," Leova says, "the way she's kept."

There's nothing Jocelyn can say in reply to that, expression tightening with restraint before she pushes to her feet, hands stuffing into her trouser pockets. "It's difficult enough to try to stay one step ahead of what's out there. This shouldn't - " One hand lifts, drops uncomfortably. "I should - thank you, Leova, for your time."

The dragonhealer's standing, now. "Aye." A last look to Jocelyn, a not-quite-smile. "Graduation's soon. Give yourself a chance to breathe, hm? Will see you next time."