Logs:Managing Symptoms
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| RL Date: 17 April, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Tess |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Is Hattie going mad? Is Elaruth okay? Is C'stian a potential drug dealer? |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 7, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'stian/Mentions, Dimatrin/Mentions, E'dre/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
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| As shifts switch over in the dragon infirmary and on-duty healers are released to go and get the lunch that their colleagues have recently had themselves, the cavern is almost devoid of patients, save for the presence of the pale little queen who has settled herself into one of the wallows and sits calmly letting the nice people get on with whatever it is that they're so interested in completing. If it involves prodding her, well, Elaruth is trying to ignore it, and is much better entertained by nosing at anyone who gets close enough (and some who don't) and exploring all the other things nearby that don't belong to her. Her rider is clearly the less at ease of the two of them, and as the barrage of questions for her finally reaches its end and she's left in peace to take a seat on the cot behind her, Hattie just watches the other healers like a hawk. "Mind if I join you?" Tess inquires of the Weyrwoman quietly, appearing at the end of the cot from being just another healer working elsewhere in the infirmary. She's not wearing an apron, but she's dressed simply, in the sort of clothes that are conducive to working. She looks a bit worn, so probably her shift has just ended (or this is a break in the midst of it). She looks like "she" could use a seat, if that helps make the decision easier for Hattie. That intense stare is diverted to Tess the moment that Hattie realises she's there, and though she studies her for a moment or more, she obligingly shifts along the cot a little to make room, bringing her closer to her queen. It's Elaruth who gets a proper greeting in first, and the gold gently swings her muzzle towards Tess to investigate her now, yet she has the manners to not be too intrusive and only very carefully moves to try and brush her nose against her left shoulder. Hi. "Please," Hattie somewhat tightly invites, tension only easing as the last healer retreats from Elaruth's side. "Hello, Elaruth," Tess greets with a friendly (if slightly wearied smile). She lifts up a hand to offer a return touch of greeting if the queen so desires, though she doesn't aim to touch unless the gold seems to be comfortable with that. Thusly, she does not sit immediately, but does ask, "Does the... pregnancy? What do they call it? Egg-growing? Go well? Not that I have any doubts, of course." Elaruth provides a quiet clatter of noise in response, and softly nudges her nose into Tess' palm, mindful not to push at her, before she retreats back into her own space. "I don't think I've ever called it anything other than pregnancy," Hattie hazards, looking her lifemate over as if doing so will give her a better answer, but all she follows her words up with is a shallow shrug. "It's a little early to really tell anything beyond her being in good health right now," she admits. "Should you be here?" she puts to Tess, as she slides her attention back to her. "Not that I mean you shouldn't be here, but... maybe you'd rather be in bed?" The healer is no doubt appreciative of Elaruth's care even if she doesn't make comment. "That makes sense. I suppose it's only those of us less intimately familiar with dragons who would have an impulse to call it something else." Tess observes with a laugh at herself for that. She drops down onto the cot beside Hattie, her fingers lacing together, palms pressed against one another between her knees. It's a causal pose. "I'm heading that way. I had the wee hours into lunch shift. Not my favorite. I always miss my morning run," she confesses with a sigh. No extra shift to observe in the dragon infirmary for her today! "I saw you as I was going, wanted fresh air before going back to my room, and thought to ask if we should be meeting again sometime." It's a delicate way to put the much more complex question of if Hattie's symptoms have faded since the flight. While some of those dragon healers have drifted off entirely, leaving only one at the main desk to write up whatever it is they've learned about Elaruth this afternoon, Hattie still watches that single figure across the room, and though she has no real way of knowing if they're listening or not - or can hear her from where they are - she admits, "If it were me, I'd be wanting to kill people about this time of day." No visible reaction from the desk-bound at her dry, murderous thoughts, and so she lowers her voice even further and confesses, "It's okay. I've decided that I'm going slowly mad, and Lilah or Dimatrin or E'dre will have me confined to quarters for crying over a creased napkin or the like." So... that's a no? Tess's brow wrinkles slightly as she thinks. "I don't really see how they could successfully do that." She admits. "You don't seem the type to let them." She tilts her head to look at Hattie. "Symptoms, even of madness," not that Hattie is going mad, it sounds like Tess has decided, "can be managed." She's frowning now a little and her eyes drift to Elaruth. "She's not worried for you, is she?" "Oh, I wouldn't go quietly, that's for sure," Hattie replies, both matter of fact and with humour so forced it does nothing to hide her concern, no matter how she plasters it on. She follows Tess' gaze to Elaruth, who has now begun an investigation of the empty cot no so distant from her, and gives a tighter shrug. "...She worries because I worry. I can hide some of the why from her as a matter of necessity, but I can't shield what she observes on her own." Back to Tess, she drawls, "There's probably a tea for it, isn't there?" "For worry? Oh, certainly. The sort they try to keep from the apprentices," Tess answers with a cheeky smile that shows her dimples. "I'm sure I could arrange for some, though C'stian might be able to get it faster, if that's what you wanted. He was always excellent at herbology." She lets her eyes linger on Elaruth a moment before returning to Hattie. "Well, I won't twist your arm to come see me," of course, "but if you decide it might be helpful to simply have an outlet who isn't going to pass judgment on you, isn't going to tell your junior, your weyrscond, or your weyrmate, I'm available." It's a simple offer, and just that, an offer. Hattie lifts one hand to cover her eyes at mention of C'stian, whether it's to try and shield her sharp smile, or to conceal its edge of despair. "...I think we can do without bringing him into any of this, particularly in that sort of capacity," she answers wryly. "I don't think my... whatever he is," she obviously doesn't have a term for it yet, "my weyrmate's son dealing in 'exotic' mixtures to make me less highly strung would sit well with said weyrmate, if they were to ever discuss it." She wrinkles her nose and just presses her face all the more into her hand. "Though maybe N'muir would be grateful for it, given givens." Sighing, she drops both hands to the edge of the bed. "No offense, but I need fixing more than I need an outlet." Tess can't have forgotten, can she? But then she is tired, so just maybe. "Well, I'm not sure he even could really. But that was going to be his specialty, and is his mother's," there's inappropriate amusement there. It prompts Tess to rise onto her feet, "I imagine C'stian would be dutiful and confidential, for what it's worth, but I'm clearly more tired than I thought. I think that sometimes an outlet can lead to fixing, but not always, so it's a chance, an option." That's all, and nothing she'll be forcing Hattie into. "Will you excuse me, Weyrwoman? Elaruth?" She asks permission from both, only just getting her hand to her mouth in time to stifle her yawn. "...I don't suppose it would be a great deal more embarrassing than Liesanth chasing Elaruth, but then there are degrees of embarrassing," Hattie mutters under her breath, tilting her head a little to watch Tess get back to her feet. "And I'm not sure that any of them are ones that I'd like to entertain unless the situation becomes desperate." And she really does end up confined to quarters. "Thank you, though, for what it's worth. For the... options." All of them. It doesn't seem prompted, when Elaruth pauses to answer Tess with another one of her funny, off-key sounds, her rider's voice woven more quietly and beneath that noise. "Sleep well." "It always seems to me that riders end up with so much to talk about, so much ignored," Tess muses sleepily in answer, but her smile that shows her probably more sorely in need of somewhere to lay her head than ever is kind. People talk only if they want to talk, and she must know that. "Be well," is her parting wish for the pair before she heads toward the bowl, stretching her arms as she goes, perhaps as a way to keep herself awake long enough to get to her room at all. |
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