Logs:Charmed
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| RL Date: 13 February, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, Saliqa |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Saliqa's hands need some healery attention. In return, she charms Madilla utterly. |
| Where: Infirmary, High reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 13, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
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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. The onset of the winter snows has no doubt made a difference to the workloads of High Reaches' healers: it's mid-afternoon, and the infirmary is rather more inclined towards 'busy' than 'quiet', though there are plenty of healers around to make sure that patients are seen in an orderly, timely fashion. One such healer is Madilla, the professionalism provided by her white coat, apron and Journeyman's knot, somewhat belied by the way she kneels on the floor near the exit, talking in low tones to a small child with his arm in a sling. "How careful are you going to be, running in the ice next time?" she asks; the answer is a quiet, solemn, "/Very/ careful." It's easy to note this busyness immediately upon arriving, causing the newly entered Saliqa to hover at the doorway, inspecting the progress of those others in the room: the scope of injury. As she's propping the door open with a foot and shoulder, she's able to glance down at her hands and make the decision to ultimately step inside. That white coat of Madilla's is instantly attractive to someone looking for a healer, so she bustles up, coming short of interrupting the child's last lesson. She's holding her hands at her chest, one seemingly cupped gently in the other, but any inspection will note that both palms are irritable and red from doing more work than they've ever known in a short amount of time. "When you've a moment..." she pipes up, prepared to move off to some corner to wait.
Having taken those few steps to put herself out of the way, Saliqa takes them right back when she has Madilla's attention. "Thank you," expressed as warmly as the other looks. "They're just a bit sore... I thought, perhaps, a bandage to keep out the elements while the skin heals..." She draws her palms down, away from her chest, to display their nature to the healer. Besides the slight burn on each, the left hand also has a fresh cut along its side, between thumb and pointer. Clearly, the worst position for someone wanting to use full mobility for defter projects. The moment Madilla's gaze drops to rest upon Saliqa's injured hands, her eyes go wide and her expression turns utterly sympathetic. "Goodness," she murmurs, her voice soft and filled with concern; she turns her attention back to the other woman's face in the moments that follow, nodding firmly. "Of course. I'm sure-- yes, of course. If you'll follow me? I've some ointment that might help the healing, too, and stop them from hurting quite so much." She beckons Saliqa forward, indicating one of the curtained cubicles across the infirmary, and begins, without waiting any longer, the walk towards them. There's almost a grateful smile from Saliqa at the reaction, though it's marred somewhat by her grimace at moving her fingers. "Thank you," she repeats, obeying the beckon to follow Madilla towards that private section. "They got really bad all at once. I'm not typically this negligent, really." A brief thoughtfulness strikes her eyebrows down as she mulls over the injury. Stopping wherever she's indicated to, she hovers, fully attentive to whatever the healer goes and does next with bright, inquisitive eyes. "Cold doesn't help, of course, making everything chapped as it is. I suppose you're seeing a lot of what the weather does in here..." In the cubicle, Madilla indicates one of the seats to Saliqa with a smile, as she turns to busy herself with supplies: bandages, a tub of something, a bowl of water, a towel. "I understand," she assures her, perhaps a little belatedly, turning back with a smile. "Yes, we are. Lots of skin complaints, in addition to the broken bones and other ice injuries." She shakes her head, laughing wryly; "By the end of winter, of course, we'll be getting all the 'tired of the cold' injuries. It never ends." As she sinks into a seat across from the other woman, she adds, "I'm Madilla, Journeyman Healer, by the way." It takes some extra concentration to slide properly into a chair sparing her hands while still keeping her skirts smooth. Saliqa mostly accomplishes this, however, then turning to continue taking in the process of the healer. "It's funny," she comments, "How people can manage to forget through the course of a turn what happened in the last one. Forget what it's like to be careful around ice. Or... rocks!" Her hands lift lightly as evidence of this last one. "Well met, then, Madilla. I'm Saliqa, just visiting from Crom, I am. Doing a little business, maybe you've heard some news of it going around." She says 'news', but her eyebrows lift slightly and her lips tighten a touch and it hangs in the air more like 'gossip' might. Despite the conservatively pinned-up hair, and the dull colours of her clothes beneath apron and coat, Madilla's eyes do light up as, apparently, she makes the connection between Saliqa and her business. A little pink in the cheeks, she says, while reaching forward with the obvious intent of taking Saliqa's left hand in hers, "I have heard of you, I think. You make all the pretty things people have been talking about. I'll be gentle." The last must be in relation to taking up the hand; her free hand has reached to dip the corner of her cloth into the water. "I'm told you have some lovely things." Perched slightly forward in the chair, Saliqa readily lets Madilla do what she will with the hand. Besides that initial grimace at stretching the wound, she maintains a face of strict composure in the face of the treatment. The way her upper body is a little too stiff might suggest where she's putting all that reaction, but, then again, she's full of that strict politeness anyway. Yet, there's a companion glimmer in her own wide eyes when she answers. "That's so nice to hear. I do believe I have quite a range of lovely things. And I'll be glad to get back to the making of them, with your help here. Though, to be fair, you may have also heard of the wares of my girls, too." Madilla's touch is gentle, at least, and lingers as little as possible; she keeps a steady eye on Saliqa nonetheless, to make sure that nothing she's doing is hurting /too/ much. Once both hands have been washed, she moves on to covering the entirety of both hands with the contents of her little jar: some kind of soothing cream, one part numbweed, perhaps, and multiple parts mysterious other things. "We'll have you back and working in no time, I promise. I'll give you some of this salve to take away-- it should help a good idea, and keep your hands better moisturised." Giving the other woman a smile, she adds, "I've heard you all have lovely things, yes, of course." "That sounds very good," the merchant girl nods in satisfaction, a tight movement that eases up some as the cream, mysterious as it is, begins to take a cooling effect on the ache. "And I'll have to learn pacing, the next time I decide to toss myself to the unknown." A little jab, she says it almost to herself, eyeing the raw fruits of her labor in those palms. "I'll tell the others, of course. Though, if you've a special fondness for mine, I'd be ever so pleased to see you come around to look at them, yourself. There's nothing quite compares to getting your own opinion than just listening to those of others, hmm? Especially when it comes to my lovely little jewels. Really, best on the eye, not the ear." "What were you doing, to cause this damage to your hands?" Madilla wants to know, frowning, now, as she glances up from her work to the other woman, her eyebrows raised slightly. "Perhaps you should try wearing cotton gloves, to protect them more." The hands of a lady, obviously, should not go unprotected. She rises to fetch more water, washing and drying her own hands in her careful, methodical fashion, as she adds, a little pink, "I'd like that. To come and see-- of course, I'll take a look at what all of you do. I know very little about such things, but... it would be nice to see, yes, of course. I've looked at such things at gathers, of course, but they're always so crowded, and I feel bad, when I don't have much by way of marks to spend." "Gathers are fun for atmosphere, but rather harsh on getting to really sit down with the goods," Saliqa agrees amiably, giving her fingers an experimental wiggle while Madilla's off taking care of her own. "And don't you worry about knowing! That's why we came, instead of just, oh, shipping a carton of pretties at you instead." There's a small giggle for this before her face sobers out. Her hands rest down in her lap now as she swings short legs at the floor. "Stablework. And-- well, mostly stablework. For a fortnight, I'd volunteered. I wore gloves a good deal of the time, but they were ill-fitting and I suppose I took them off some to get around it. I /do/ own a nice pair, but they're a lady's pair, and I just couldn't..." Not in the /stables/. Dropping her towel into the basket presumably set aside for such things, Madilla looks at Saliqa in surprise and dismay as she admits her occupation. "That-- well, no, of course, you couldn't wear nice gloves in such a place. I suppose stores may have had some, but... have you finished out there, now? Your fortnight?" She returns to the table between them, adding, "How do they feel?" Hands, presumably. "It does make sense... that you came, I mean." Her smile is a shy one, sweet. "It must be a very big adjustment, though. The Weyr, instead of Crom. Not that I've /been/ to Crom, but... I imagine all Holds are very different, when it comes down to it." "Quite finished," is the determined announcement from Saliqa before she obligingly tests out clenching her fists. She doesn't exactly wince when she tries to close her hand around that cut, more like her mouth thins out; she's put out at the injury rather than necessarily pained by it. "Soothed," she finally decides on, "A bit tingly... perhaps wet. But much better, thank you." Her methodical listing of symptoms is certainly not at all complaints, and her smile to Madilla is just as gracious as when they started. "It's quite a... difference, yes. We're doing our best to... respect the Weyr, while maintaining the kind of responsible behavior expected as representatives of Crom." A little mechanical, she searches for words, but she comes out sounding fairly confident. Madilla watches with a close eye as Saliqa tests out her hands, her eventual slow nod marking her relative satisfaction. "Good," she says, pushing the jar of ointment towards the merchant. "Apply some morning and night-- you might want to find some light gloves from stores to protect them while you sleep. If you need more, you're more than welcome to come back and ask for some." She returns the other woman's smile, adding, with an obvious measure of humour, "I understand. I've been at the weyr four and a half turns, but I'm from a little hold out from Peyton, originally. The weyr has been... quite an adjustment." She's careful with that, too, her pause obviously suggesting that there are other things she may have said. "It does grow on you, though. Or - it has on me, at least." There's a row of acknowledging nods Saliqa performs to let Madilla know she's listening, and she wraps the right hand around the ointment, letting the jar sit mostly in her lap with some propping by her fingers. "Well," she tests carefully, diplomatically, "I'm sure it won't have to come to that. We'll be leaving come a few more sevendays." Another tweak of her smile, encouraging. "Out from Peyton. That sounds nice, though. You have a very pleasant manner about you, Madilla, I see that hold did well by you. The Weyr's lucky to have such a kind healer about for their scrapes and things." She scoops the ointment up more definitively then, sliding out of the chair. Preparing to go, she pauses once just to eye the sliced part of her hand a last time. "Do you think... do you think it moves too much for a bandage to stay on there?" The twitch of Madilla's lips, and something in the corners of her eyes marks her amusement, but she's obviously not laughing /at/ Saliqa, not given the warmth of her expression, and the understanding nod she gives. "Of course," she agrees, pleasantly. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Just that-- the weyr does not quite have to be as bad as it can seem." She looks pleased at the compliments, too, folding her hands tidily about her back as though an Apprentice receiving praise from her Master all over again; "Thank you, Saliqa. It's been a pleasure to work with you - I hope your hands heal quickly. As for the bandage... I don't see why you couldn't give it a try, properly bound. I would strongly request, however, that you keep them unbandaged when possible. Fresh air in moderation can be good for healing." Saliqa blesses Madilla with a sweet, allowing number but has no further comment as to the sustainability of Weyr life for her. Instead, she just primps herself up as if giving the compliments has been just as rewarding as hearing them for the healer. "Thank you, of course, I hope they do, too. Then we can set you up with something to complement those pretty eyes of yours." Oh, yes, she can keep laying it on: but make no mistake, it all sounds as honest as day. She nods again as to the bandage, "Ah, fresh air. You'd know best, so I'll keep that in mind. Now, I'll just get out of your way for more of those ice wounds and broken arms." Standing now, she can execute a mostly good curtsy, somewhat lacking by way of her distrust in gripping her skirts too tightly. But it's there. Madilla's little bob in return is perhaps a little unpracticed - certainly, she has more of an air of country bumpkin than fine lady about her - but it's obviously genuinely meant. Her pleasure all but radiates from her, cheeks faintly pink, her eyes outright shining. "I'll come by and visit when I can," she promises, eagerly. "Have a good afternoon, Saliqa. Look after yourself." She'll even walk the merchant to the infirmary exit - though, of course, that has the additional benefit of letting her pick up another patient on the way back. Still: it's polite. |
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