Logs:Mixed Emotions
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| RL Date: 9 April, 2015 |
| Who: Schuyler |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Sky spends a sleepless night in the infirmary |
| Where: Infirmary - High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 6, Turn 37 (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. It's just before dawn the day after the fire. Sky is among those who were kept overnight for extra observation to be sure infection didn't set in. The gashes on his hand and leg had been deep and the ash had worked their way well into the cuts before the healers had been able to grab him from the wreckage that still is the bowl and lug him off to the infirmary. At some point during the night the Headwoman, weary but on a mission, had come in to check on the injured. Sky, in his sleeplessness, had managed a quick moment with her to inform her of the odd search that had happened before the fire broke out and a while later a drudge had been sent to deliver his new knot. In the light of the dimming glows, the infirmary has an eerie feel to it. Most people have been either dosed with fellis for their pain or fitfully fallen asleep, but Sky had been up, quietly watching everything as the long night passed. A quick chat with a friend or a murmur of thanks as someone brings him some wine, more injured being brought in throughout the night as people were pulled from the rubble marked the ever more painful passage of time. The odd way in which he was suddenly picked to stand and the joy and pride he had felt at being asked are all but drowned out by the aching sorrow that consumes the entire weyr. And guilt, guilt for feeling that happiness, for letting it creep into the dark corners of his mind trying to reduce the pain. Confusion. Flames. Screaming. Friends in near catatonic states dance before his eyes as he runs through the evening. Was there more I could have done? Did anyone else die? Are my friends ok? I should be in the kitchens helping. What will it be like to stand? To impress? His mind rolls with unanswered questions and muddled thoughts. The wine only doing so much to dull the noise in his head. Movement, people starting to come in for their daily shifts and the sound level in the infirmary grows. Someone comes by to check on his bandages, rewrap them, give him instructions for how to care for the wounds, what to look for and when he needs to come back. Finally: "You can go home now, Sky." "Home." But home is different now. Now he doesn't go back to his familiar bed in the craft complex but to the candidates barracks. Yesterday changed everything. |
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