Logs:Daredevil
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| RL Date: 4 February, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo stops by with Tacuseth for a check-up, especially since he's got a sprain. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 12, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Sleet |
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| Sleet has whitened the High Reaches sky for hours, made grayer by the lessening light: Rukbat's already below the horizon, this late in the high-north afternoon, and soon enough it'll be pitch black. It's relatively quiet in the dragon infirmary, with most dragons staying in their weyrs or vanishing for other climes, despite all the aggravations of recent sevendays. Leova's keeping herself awake with old case studies, a trio of glowbaskets around her for that much more light. The convict blueriding pair is landing just outside the infirmary, Jo dismounting in seconds flat with her riding gear still on. She seems relatively at ease with the cold around her as she rips the helmet from her head along with the goggles, but the black gloves seem to be staying on as she arrives inside. "Leova?" she calls out, pausing as she looks around the place. Further in she would find her Glacier wingmate right there pouring over hides, and she pauses there in silence to watches her at it with a glint of curiosity before she states, "Hey, Leova. Ya gotta minute?" "Over here!" Though the greenrider doesn't look up right away, the glows muddying her hair to a duller brown, when she does it's with a smile. "Reckon so, for you," as if she'd turn away any old stray. But when she gets up, those hides disappear behind the high counter first thing, just before she rounds it to join the bluerider: no snooping. Jo gives a low chuckle to those words, watching Leova as she says, "Perhaps, beyond sweepridin', I just can' get enough of ya." She turns then to gesture out towards her blue dragon before she adds, "And anyway. I figure it's time Tac got his checkup. I know I haven' really been keepin' up with them, though he's insisted that he's golden. Until now." Ominous words, but the bluerider in black leather still manages to keep her tone as easy as the wind. "Right, that's it. Follow me around, write me notes, eat the same food in the lunch line," Leova says, deadpan. There's still humor agleam in her eyes as she approaches the blue, at least until Jo continues. She pivots. "What's going on." While the greenrider's still short of the blue, Vrianth nudges discreetly: stamp-stamp-stamp. Kick off the snow. Onto her rider? Maybe. "Wait, ya've gotten my notes? The ones with the hearts drawn right on the top, with our names written inside?" Jo and her imaginations. "So ya were ignorin' me, then. Next time I'll try seranadin' for ya in livin' cavern. At dinnertime. In front of all our wingmates." Oh wouldn't that go down well with the Glacier riders! Keeping her humor up, she heads straight to Tacuseth's side and gives him a thump of one hand. "Well. I think he's sprained a muscle. Ya know how he lands - kinda like a thump down, pretty heavy....well, about a seven back, the ground was pretty slippery and I think he didn' go down well. He told he was pretty fine, but, this seven, and several landings later..." Yeah. "So. I think he needs to be checked out. Been awhile since his last check up anyway. Might as well get it all out of the way, right?" Jo eyes Vrianth when she feels the trickle of snow on her, and Tacuseth short-rumbles his apparent amusement. All that teasing, and Leova doesn't even crack a smile, not until she thinks to put one on to let Jo know she's heard. Or maybe that's the snow, which doesn't just get the blue's rider. "Didn't hear a pop, did you?" She retreats long enough to take a long pole, hooking one of the glowbaskets onto it for a better look as she rounds the dragon, muttering about a full sevenday all the while. "Tacuseth. Relay to Vrianth how it feels, please?" Not that Vrianth seems entirely thrilled with the idea: must he? She may not be visible, but there's still that sense of presence. "Might have," Jo answers on hearing a pop, all manner of joking aside as she regards her blue. "I mean, ya know. Been so busy lately..." Yeah. Try all the time-busy. That seems to be the excuse she's going for right now. Tacuseth turns his head towards the older green, sending the touch of rocks falling and the breath of warm air, « Painful. Yep, it's painful. Dunno why. My girl remembers a slip? » which clearly, he doesn't. He'll even lift the limb in question just a little, and Jo crouches down to see it better. "Ya don' think it's anythin' serious, do ya?" she asks now, looking up to Leova briefly. Despite the casual tone, her expression does have one detecting a bit of anxiety for his injury. "When are you not busy? Especially with weather like this," and Leova's frowning, even as she finishes her survey and drops to her own crouch by the bluerider. « You may show me which pain, » is Vrianth's reply. « I suppose. It is useful. » How does it feel, from the inside? When he flexes? And then perhaps some more of that warm air-feeling, after? Leova reaches towards the site, lighting her own way, though she doesn't yet touch. "Not like his leg's going to fall off or anything. No. But. How's it feel when he puts weight on it? Tacuseth, I'm going to be touching you, light-like. Don't kick me." If that last is at least a little teasing, it's for Jo's sake. "Not enough hours in the day," is Jo's easy counter on her being oh-so busy all the time. "Maybe. It is nice weather, right?" What? Tacuseth sends Vrianth a heated blast of where the pain is coming from, gravel disturbed with the taste of steel present. It's a muscle pain, making it hard to flex as he demonstrates just a bit. He's not big on talking too much when he's in pain, seeming to revert to showing her rather than telling. Jo, on her side, looks a bit mollified when Leova answers her on his injury, answering the question with, "It was fine before, I swear it. Just...this sort of weather, it's been spasming. The muscle, I mean. He's been saying it's been going stiff, too." She pauses then adds, "He puts weight on it today, it's not good. He's not feelin' balanced, he told me. He'll be good," she adds on the last, amusement coloring her tone once more on talking of kicking. And since showing is precisely what Vrianth wants, she sends a quick flow of energy his way, peppered with tiny, electric bursts of light: the sort of thing that might be, that is meant to be, distracting. Praise. "Mm," says her rider. She's nodding for the spasms, for the stiffness, even as she tests with her fingertips, now. "Reckon," and she holds onto the word an uncharacteristic extra moment, "it's more strain than sprain. Which is good. Sprain, it's ligaments, see. Treatment's about the same, anyway. Would have said rest, and ice, wrapping it and lifting it... but with it being a full seven, changes things up some." There's more testing, inspecting, but in the end, "So. He'll like this: I want him to soak in our hot pool for a while, see what we can do about those spasms. What he'll like a little less, going back and forth between cold and hot, regular intervals, I'll write it down for you. Don't want him to just sit like a bump on a log, mind, but it sounds like he's aggravating more'n getting better, hm? And I'll show you how to wrap his leg, we'll start by his paw and work up. The thing as is keeping you busy, to and fro... might want to wait on that. Unless it's better weather than here." She's gotten to watching the blue's rider, somewhere in there. Praise. Tacuseth likes praise, particularly from sharp, wily greens. Those electric bursts of light gets heated winds, though muted due to him not being completely one hundred percent. Woe is Tacuseth when he cannot woo. As for his convict rider, she's busy listening to every word Leova says, her frown slipping in between bemusement and relief. She nods firmly to the hot pool for her blue, then moreso on him having to go back and forth between, hot and cold. She seems to not mind at all most of what she's prescribing...except, whatever is keeping her busy needing to wait. She darts a quick glance the greenrider's way before asking, "Ya don' say. For how long?" The wait, but she does add in, "The hot pool soaks, too." Closer study finds no tension in her frame, but then, those that know her or have observed her would detect her to be carefully composed, right? For the patient, Tacuseth, or perhaps it's simply for the patient Tacuseth, Vrianth lets those night-lights fly high on those winds: beware, if he keeps that up, they'll fly out of sight. And then where will he be? Leova's stepped back to the counter long enough to take notes for Jo on a piece of scraped hide, her handwriting legible but hardly ornate. "Depends on how he does," she says. "Could be a couple sevens, could be less than that. I'm going to say, no drills for you: sweeps don't matter, he's up in the air anyway, and we cut them short wintertime as is." Even if the comet came again, even if Fall fell, it would freeze. "How's your ledge? Easy to land on, or tricky?" If Leova's studying Jo, and she may very well be, there's no change in her voice to speak of. Amusement for Tacuseth is very much like his rider's - just the right shade of arrogance, or is that confidence? And Jo? A couple of sevens doesn't sound all that good, but the bluerider's nodding all the same and answering, "I'll stay on top of him, darlin'. Don' worry about that. He'll be right as rain with the right kind of care." She seems to be vowing to that, given her acquiescence on them opting out of drills. As for their ledge, "Easy, I believe," she answers, looking the blue over now as she straightens to her full height. "He's never complained since we've been assigned there. He's just a bit sharp with his landings sometimes, and his take-offs." She watches Leova write the instructions down, approaching her for it as she asks, "Is that good? Anythin' else I need to do?" "I'll count on you." It could be a warning. Today, it isn't. Leova even smiles. "Don't exactly see him complaining anything's too difficult, hm? See what he doesn't say. And as for other things..." she pauses, nib stilled against the glass of the inkwell. "If his wrap gets too tight, loosen it. Shouldn't hurt. Stretches are good, take it slow, warm up before you go places. Remind him to land easy-like. Visit somewhere with decent visibility, until things clear up here: he can be good as anything but still have to see." And that wind, even in the caldera liable to toss a dragon unexpectedly. "Go somewhere interesting, bring me back a story for next seven when I'll take another look. Sooner if there's a problem. All right?" "Always," Jo is quick to smile on Leova counting on her, the word involuntary. "And I'll be sure to drop him somewhere....interesting. With easy landin'. He'll just love me for that." Tacuseth was known to be a bit of a daredevil, even back from his weyrling class, so it was safe to say that the blue probably would be grumbling on the easy landings and take offs. She nods to that and reaches a hand for the sheet detailing what needs to be done, saying, "Sounds golden, darlin'. I'll keep ya posted, and drop by in a seven. I'll even have a story for ya that won' have ya blushin'. If ya blush." Right. She just couldn't resist. "Deal." When Leova returns with the bandages, it's also with an amused inclination of her brows. "I might have blushed. Once or twice." In her day. "Good flying." And if Tacuseth's more of a daredevil here and now than is really good for him... well, in this sleet, who's going to see? |
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