Logs:Bedside Manner
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| RL Date: 7 August, 2014 |
| Who: Jadzia, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jadzia's having a rough time in the infirmary. Lycinea is obviously sympathetic. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 6, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: I'kris/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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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.
"Will you shut up," says the voice from the alcove on the other side. It sounds tired and slightly strained, but possibly familiar as Jadzia. It's hard to tell if she's talking to the moaning or something else, however. It probably doesn't really matter to her, considering she's laying on a cot with something over her eyes to block out what light happens to be in the infirmary. Lycinea looks. She looks. She thinks. So far, she doesn't move. She just looks. And continues to scratch. "Savroveth," growls Jadzia, like she's had just about as much as she can handle. Unfortunately putting a pillow over one's head doesn't actually drown out the sound of a dragon's voice. "Does it help to talk out loud, or does he just cut right through?" Lycinea asks the weyrling, her tone thoughtful. Her expression is disinterested now, as though she were asking just to pass the time. "What?" Jadzia doesn't even seem to realize that anyone else is talking to her right away. But once she does, well, she doesn't seem all that thrilled with the idea. Or the talking. "It doesn't matter." The resigned quality in the way she says that suggests it doesn't matter what she does. He's there all the same. "Huh." It's the only sound from Lya now. A moment later she's withdrawing the tongue depressor and shifting onto her stomach. "So you don't like it?" Having Impressed, presumably. "Do you care?" Jadzia's waspish tone is back, but she still sounds tired. Like that might be too much effort even for Lya's sake "Nah. Just bored." The teen answers. And that's when she starts tapping her toes without rhythem on the end rail of the cot. That can't possibly be more annoying than talking, can it? "If you don't stop making noise, I'm going to come over there and beat your skinny little ass. Why are you even here?" Clearly if Lycinea is well enough to be annoying the hell out of Jadzia, then she doesn't need to be here! "I doubt the healers would let you. They don't, generally like it when people give them more work." The foot has momentarily stilled, but Lycinea seems blithely unconcerned. "I'm here to see if they can do anything about the itching." She holds up the cast briefly, whether Jadzia looks or not. "Why are you?" ... Then she goes back to the thumping. "You think they'd be able to stop me if I really wanted to hurt you?" The way Jadzia says it only implies the 'how cute', at least. But maybe it also means she doesn't really want to hurt her. Or maybe she's just too... whyever she's here to bother. She doesn't answer the question. "Well," Lycinea considers her eyes ranging over the bodies about. "No, but they'd probably pull you off me pretty quickly. And curling into a ball and covering my head is one of my few real skills in life." She eyes the weyrling, "Plus, then they wouldn't be keen on helping you with whatever," since Jadzia hasn't said, "and you'd be in trouble with your weyrlingmaster and your dragon along with you. You might not care what they do to you, but I bet you care what they do to him. I hear a person gets attached." That last is said sardonically. "They don't do anything to the dragons. They're too scared one of them might stub their toes and go between." Which Jadzia clearly thinks is ridiculous. It's also probably a slight exaggeration. "I don't care about being in trouble with the Weyrlingmaster. Like you said, ain't anything she can do to me that I care about." And she seems pretty confident about her dragon being just fine. Jadzia turns her head to squint her eyes in Lya's direction for a moment, then starts to roll over onto her other side so her back is facing the other girl. Hmph. "They probably would if the dragon's rider turned out to be a bloodthirsty bitch without the means to control her temper." Lycinea offers this offhandedly, "I mean, they made Svissath go between with I'kris and Svissath didn't murder the Weyrwoman." So apparently the mouthy teen at least paid attention to her local history. Maybe it only stuck because it's a grisly story, the kind of thing that people don't like to talk about and therefore find unnerving when someone brings it up so casually. Like now. Jadzia makes a sound not entirely unlike a groan of pain, her knees drawing up slightly into something resembling a loose fetal position. "Even if I did murder you, no one would care. You aren't the fucking Weyrwoman. No one would even know you were gone. Now will you shut up already?" Lycinea sniiiiiffs. "Oh," beat, "Oh, no. I think I--" She sniffs again, "Why yes, I think I really do feel a coughing fit coming on." Cough. Coughcoughcoughcoughcoughcoughcough. Yeah, well Lycinea's going to feel a pillow in her face, too. Jadzia chucks hers at the younger girl as she starts pulling herself up. Fortunately, hey, it's a pillow and doesn't really matter how hard she can manage to throw it from here. And then the weyrling is struggling to her feet because walking around in pain is better than laying here dealing with this. "Fuck you." Abruptly, the coughing fit stops. It's the pillow first. Maybe her quiet, "Oof," will somehow be satisfying. Then Lya's batting her eyelashes at the older blonde, "Why, I thought you'd never ask." Because clearly, this has all been an act to get Jadzia's attention and good will. The fit of giggles she's overtaken with clearly says: not! |
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