Difference between revisions of "Logs:Lessons Learned"

Though the rain stops once in a while, it's only to raise the hope of relief before starting up again, making the Bowl a gloppy, muddy, slippery mess. By the time Edyis shows up at lunchtime, though, Vrianth has had the luxury of a bath in that heated pool, and an oiling, too. Leova's looking a bit harried, her hair spiked on end, pacing as she talks with a considerably older man: U'sot, whom the girl's likely seen before.

Perhaps it is the rain, or the overall sense of gloom that it brings, whatever the reason. Edyis is actually moving at a normal pace today. Her usual mad dash to the infirmary slowed to a steady jog, a fresh smudge of ink on her cheek, but otherwise looking respectable. The usual smile only fades slightly when she spots Leova, and U'sot, and drawing her heels together both hands wrap about the strap of the bag over her shoulder. She's quiet, politely waiting to be acknowledged a touch of worry at the edges of her eyes.

He's patient. He doesn't pace, but rather watches his protege with an air that's part mentor, part grandfather. Dark eyes notice the girl, and the senior dragonhealer nods once to her before returning his attention to Leova. After a few moments he interjects a comment. His voice is deep, a baritone that's raspy in places. Leova listens, her focus visible, and keeps listening even as she resumes. It's a minute or two longer before he dismisses her, limping back into his office and leaving her to glance Vrianth's way before moving to join Edyis. "Get anything to eat while you waited?"

Edyis returns the nod quietly, with a smile. When Leova joins her, there's another smile, "I ate before I headed over." She admits perhaps having taken someone's comment on studying the notebooks of others while consuming food rapidly into consideration. "Is everything alright? You seem a little stressed." She seems to arrive at the last word after some deliberation. "If you prefer I can come by later." She offers gently.

"Ah." Then, "Later, now, it's all the same." Leova snags what looks to be a half-eaten savory hand pie and takes it with her, beckoning to the girl before pacing towards Vrianth. "Tell me, Edyis," she says along the way. Her dark-soled boots neither slip nor squeak on the stone. "You have rider and dragon exhibiting joint-ail. At what point do you recommend transferring somewhere warm, to spend their remaining days?"

The younger woman eyes move from rider to dragon studying the olive hide curiously. "I would imagine, when the ailment impacts quality of life, but maybe the larger question is, when will the rider usually listen?" She falls quiet considering the weight of such a change for someone. When does anyone want to hear that they are no longer able to perform their duties? "I have no concept of how long that would be in turns for a dragon though."

"That's a question, all right." The dragon watches. She's long-boned, is Vrianth, for her color. More important is her sense of presence, the electric awareness that the sensitive might notice when she rests her attention upon them. "Turns," as a concept, gets a one-shouldered shrug from the dragon's rider. "Keep in mind, we flew Thread. The older ones, they flew it more. It has a habit of... aging people." Those who survive. "Including dragons in that. What would you look for, with your 'quality of life'?"

Dark eyes close a moment, as though she is imagining a memorized page of text. When she opens them, they still remain on the long-boned green thoughtful, and a touch wary. "Greying of the hide, inability to hunt, extreme loss of mobility in the air, severe loss of tooth and claw - but" she pauses thoughtfully, "The real question is the state of mind of the dragon and rider, and how they perceive their own discomfort. As cold as the winters are, I would think that there are some who find the prospect of leaving behind everything familiar just to lessen a few aches and pains far more discomforting. I've noticed that people without something to keep them occupied to also seem to last longer than those who retire from the fields without anything to keep them active." She seems to consider something, "Would changes in diet or perhaps care to lessen the effects, exercises to keep them mobile?"

Leaning against Vrianth's foreleg, Leova watches Edyis even as Vrianth watches her. The amber gaze is more openly speculative than the inscrutable, whirling one. "We do those things," she says to the last. "And yes. Uprooting is difficult, though it varies even amongst dragons. Some take it easily. Some require their own... family, if you will. The thing to remember, Edyis, to keep remembering: dragons affect their riders who affect them. So it's particularly hard. Sometimes one half will stay hale, while the other not. But it's still their lives tied together."

Brows knit together, "I take it then this isn't a purely rhetorical question. You're considering retirement?" Somehow her voice seems a little smaller in that, uncertain. "So sometimes the rider must do what is best for the dragon, and the dragon what's best for the rider."

Abruptly the greenrider laughs, even as Vrianth tosses her head back, eyes gleaming. "Me? No, I'm young, Edyis. Believe it or not." Amusement stays with her as she looks the girl up and down. Her one-shouldered shrug says yes, both those sometimes, and yet. "You thought me so aged? Edyis."

The way the air rushes out of her, visibly relieved is probably a solid indication that was the answer she had hoped to hear. "No, just the way the statements were worded, I drew the incorrect conclusion." She couldn't be happier about that clearly. "I suppose there is a lesson in that about assuming." The dimpled grin widening.

"Reckon you'd not be wrong to think so," says the greenrider, dry. "What's another assumption you've made, lately? Rightly or wrongly, so far as you know."

Maybe the girl isn't sure to how to answer that question, from the length of the silence between the question and the answer she gives. "A lot of things, I think maybe the biggest one being that at some point things will settle down enough to stop changing, but it isn't going to happen is it?"

"No, not until you're dead." It's promptly said, that smoky voice still amused. "But reckon they're likely to be at least a little more predictable. So. Look at my Vrianth. Tell me what you see."

"She's in excellent condition, and very alert I would imagine from the way she studies anything studying her." Edyis breathes in deeply as she moves a little closer, cautiously, respectfully. "Muscle looks good, and the hide is healthy, She's still in her prime if I had to guess."

Vrianth doesn't bother displaying herself, not even for the young human's benefit. Or at leas, no more than she does just by breathing. Or existing. "Considerably so. Mind, I won't say I hadn't thought about substituting in an oldster, just to see whether you'd say the same." Which is to say, to see if Edyis were sucking up. "What do you look for, in her hide?"

"It would be interesting to see some of the older ones and make note of the differences that are a result of age." She assents, eyes moving over the hide. "Her color is good. Some grey to it, but she looks like she's got the healthy gloss to her hide, may I touch her?" Edyis asks of Leova.

"She hatched that way. Part of the reason why we keep solid Records: need a baseline." The greenrider slants a look up at her dragon, pausing there. Then, half-regretfully, "Not today. I will ask her to spread her wings," not just spread but angle. "See, her 'sails, how you can see light through them? Opacity varies too. Hers are sensitive. Much finer, they'd be more prone to rip, to flake when it gets dry."

"She hatched that way. Part of the reason why we keep solid Records: need a baseline." The greenrider slants a look up at her dragon, pausing there. Then, half-regretfully, "Not today. I will ask her to spread her wings," not just spread but angle. "See, her 'sails, how you can see light through them? Opacity varies too. Hers are sensitive. Much finer, they'd be more prone to rip, to flake when it gets dry."

"So just looking for ashen spots won't be enough with some dragons who have unusual variations in color." Asked as she intently studies the wings, "She has longer spars, than most of the diagrams of greens I've seen. With sails being so delicate, how do you handle an injury to one? Do they happen frequently?"

"No. Got to keep tabs on the variations. S'why we get Records from Weyrs when folk transfer, best as we can. Which isn't to say that the greyer spots don't have issues, sometimes: her 'sails soak up oil like nobody's business, but her clutchmate, he'd a brindled look to him but a whole lot less of it. As for injuries... to her, not so often." Though the greenrider's glance strays towards her dragon's shoulder, even so. "Handle 'em with stitches. Use a fine thread, but not so fine or so small a stitch that they'll just rip right through."

The girl fishes the journal from her bag, wrapping the leather of the cover back, to solidify the surface for writing, and the char stick is used to record the notes. "Which would also explain why the descriptions are made as precisely as possible." She frowns, "Do healers get injured treating dragons? I mean getting a creature her size to hold still while in excruciating pain, that would be difficult wouldn't it? Once the injury is healed is the area more prone to re-injury or does that too vary between dragons."

"Including measurements," Leova agrees. "We can, sad to say. Queens can calm them, but sometimes they're busy. Or things... slip. Thing about scars is, they don't have the give and take normal hide does, see? So a lot depends on where it's at." She has a few more comments along that general line. Then, "Last question, hm? Before it's back to work."

The journal closes with a snap. and gets tucked back into the bag. "Just one really, what made you decide to take up dragon healing?" Curiousity brimming in those dark eyes.

"That's too likely to take too long," Leova notes with amusement in her eyes, pausing to brush her fingertips along Vrianth before walking Edyis towards the exit. "But you could say it started with the senior dragonhealer, back when I was a candidate, and never had seen hide nor hair of a Weyr before. Good day to you, Edyis." Until next time.