Of Paperwork and....More Paperwork? (Sparrow)

[Requiem]

I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored! Can't we go see Adith? I want to sing songs with him. They're asleep right now, lovely. Remember? I'll let you in on a little secret: this isn't exactly exciting for me, either. I'm sure Adith won't mind waking up for me. Kalierre smiled tightly. Maybe not. But I can't leave the infirmary right now, sweetheart. Well, I can! Then, a pause, and Phremath's mind-voice returned, less self-assured. Can't I? Of course. Just let me now where you are and who you're with. Okay? Okay! Though Phremath was an excellent morale boost for the patients, Kalierre could certainly see why the green might want to do something other than chat with a bunch of injured dragons day in and day out. She'd now gotten too big to accompany Kalierre in the infirmary halls themselves...

With a sigh, the journeywoman turned back to the inventory list she was comprising. They had to get this finished and handed off to the Headwoman, so that the next bevy of tithes would have what they needed. Making a note to personally strangle I'ir and Trenlor when she saw them - which she probably wouldn't, given they'd managed to become quite scarce around the infirmary and she lived here - Kalierre continued her perusal of the stores. This wasn't something to trust to an apprentice or lower journeyman. Though it didn't take much intelligence, as far as such things went, the dragonhealer didn't want to come up short of something like, say, needlethorn in another tendays with no way to get her hands on any more.

This transfer to Selenitas had landed her hip-deep in administrative work. Add to that a dragonet, weyrling lessons, a full bevy of dragons who only had two experienced healers to treat them - one of which seemed to have gone AWOL - and a list of minor emergencies that Kalierre just had to see to, and she was more or less the walking dead. She'd put in a request to the Council to get another dragonhealer here at Selenitas, to lighten the workload, but as of yet there'd been no response. And training new apprentices was out of the question. She simply didn't have the time. Besides which, it would be turns before she could allow them to do much of anything without her supervision, and that would defeat the whole purpose.

Tugging on the hem of the overlarge tunic - hadn't it fit her before the hatching? - the journeywoman scrawled a few more notes, looking down at her handywork and sighing. Shorthand. She'd have to sit down and copy out a neat list for Marisina. Somehow in all her free time. Dreading the walk through the infirmary back to the small office she was now using, the woman tucked the inventory list beneath an arm and gritted her teeth. A good candlemark later she made it to her office, pushing through the door wearily. Why the apprentices couldn't do anything without having to have someone looking over their shoulder was beyond her. And where were all her journeymen? Someone up in the north must be laughing their pretty asses off right about now. Growing list of people to strangle: I'ir, Trenlor, laughing northern bastards, Meri on general principle, S'rei for bringing her here...Oh, it went on and on.

Settling behind her desk, Kali rubbed at her temples, wondering if the Masterhealer was doing any better. He'd been down for several days with a mild fever. Nothing life-threatening, but he was more or less useless in that state. If she wasn't careful, she'd be joining him. Kalierre knew she was stretched far too thin to be healthy, but there was nothing that she could do about it. His health was another worry for her. He'd been up and down with various minor infirmities since the hatching. They might have to consider looking for a replacement if he couldn't get his health back under control. Which would mean having to adjust to yet another master.

The list now scribed legibly, she moved on to the growing stack of paperwork on her desk. At least she wouldn't have to worry about missing anything important at the infirmary. Her apprentices couldn't seem to tie their own laces without seeking approval.

[sparrow]

((Bad post, sorry. Two hours, hot stove. Promise later will get better.))

The air as they burst out of between was warm around her; Lumari wriggled uncomfortably in the scarf wrapped around her neck, the only remnants of a history in the North. The rider in her arms ignored her, and the dragon winging his way through the winds started a downwhirl spiral. Casting a wary eye below them, the Journeywoman Healer saw nothing but trees and a thin thread of river winding towards the horizon: no sign of a Weyr anywhere. In a moment, she leaned forward. "I thought you said we were heading to the 'Selenitas Infirmary'," she declared. "I may be wrong. I could have heard 'heaping quantities of forest'. Did you say that?"

"Sorry," the rider bellowed back at her. The wind whipped his words about her in a tangle of shouting. Lumari's arms clenched around his waist before loosening purposefully. She had never been afraid of heights, Lumari thought, feeling the air whirl about her in a hollow blue tempest. It was hardly time to start now. "I only hear one word for every five you say!"

Comfortably, the Journeywoman pressed her chin into his shoulder, her fingers closing tight on his arm. "Big! Trees! Not! Weyr!" she crowed in his ear.

"What?" the rider yelled. Tiny shapes blossomed out of the general green as they descended. It was all like a gigantic HealerCraft banner, Lumari thought, as if the world were conspiring to remind her of how far she had fallen. And out of the diminutive lines there formed--

She started, but neither rider nor dragon seemed to notice. "Selenitas?" Lumari demanded, her arms hard and tense again.

"What?"

The dragon spiraled towards a landing... in a tree. Lumari raised her eyebrows. She'd heard stories, of course, but they had seemed absurd - more so now than ever. "You lot seriously live in trees?"

"You're not going to condescend, are you?" The rider's tone had cooled distinctly; his eyes, as he twisted back to look at her, were a chastened, wintry green.

"Just wanted to ask if there are any rules to swinging off the branches."

"It's a general rule that you may want to leave a note explaining that it was a suicide beforehand so that nobody else will be blamed for it."

Lumari dimpled openly. "I like you," she told the bluerider. "You are an excellent example whom everybody in this Weyr should follow. They should have a gigantic portrait of you set up in the Dining Caverns--"

"Just a Dining Hall. It's in a tree."

"In a tree," the Journeywoman repeated with a look of dreamy glee that might have looked disturbing to those unfamiliar with her. For all she knew, it was disturbing the bluerider, but if it did, he didn't show it. "I'm going to be living in a tree. -- Say it again."

"Well, if you like trees, you'll certainly like it here," the dragonrider said, his voice dry. "Although I doubt that your hands will fit around the branches long enough for you to swing off of one. Do you know where to go?" he went on, rather hurriedly. Setting one foot in a strap, he turned and held out a hand to help her down. Recognising the innate and universal signal of someone who wanted the conversation to stop here, now, before their eardrums exploded from overactivity, Lumari smiled and allowed herself to be helped down. Her foot caught and tangled, and she tripped and tumbled against him halfway.

"What a good thing I'm not here to be a performer," she said muffledly, and he laughed awkwardly and swung her down.

"The Infirmary's that way," he said, jabbing a much put-upon finger in the vague direction of an enormous entrance. "You can't miss it. Usually you need a boat and a river to get anywhere, but this is a landing platfor--"

"I've got it," she promised him. Waving him briskly goodbye, she strode into the Infirmary. The bustle of apprentices and patients immersed her at once, and she was stifled in a moment of familiarity in a stream of strange things. Several of them pointed at an office without looking, their shoulders slumping at the thought. "Okay," the Journeywoman murmured, sifting through the sights in search of something to catch her eye. "Clearly this is a place where Healing works by draining the life out of-- ah!"

She'd managed to walk into an office that already contained someone. Cutting herself off, Lumari shifted gears automatically. There had always been two modes: one to deal with every day lives, and the other - slightly less enthusiastic - to deal with authority. "Hey," she said cheerfully to the woman sitting at the desk, and ambled in without fear that something else could be more important at present. The office was full of papers, drowning in papers, and either they could wait or they couldn't and she would be ignored. The latter didn't matter and the former saved time. Win-win. "I'm new. Lumari, Journeywoman, and--" she produced a set of documents out of the bag slung across one shoulder and presented them. "Name, rank, papers. That's the way these things are supposed to go, aren't they?"

[Requiem]

((Don't worry about it, lady. All my posts yesterday were horrible.))

Looking up from the schedule she had been hastily throwing together - it was already a day late, and though that wouldn't throw anyone off just yet, they'd be asking soon - Kalierre regarded the young woman curiously. Though the dragonhealer was in something of a perpetually sour mood these days, it was a fact that no one outside her circle of familiars would be aware of.

The soft, mildly ironic smile lingered on her lips, as it often did when around people, her dark eyes scanning the journeywoman who had spoken so irreverently upon entering the disaster zone that Kali called her office. The fact that there was some truth to the words of the stranger only served to heighten the slightly older woman's sense of irony. Though her amusement was easy enough to see, the dark circles gracing the undersides of her eyes and the sunken pallor of her face turned the smile into something almost - frightening.

There was a brief flickering behind her eyes at the name. Now, Kalierre was nearly eight turns a journeywoman by this point, and, having been shipped off to Benden directly after she walked the tables at fifteen turns, she of course hadn't had any contact with this journeywoman personally. But a master healer at Fort Hall was still very much in touch with her - he'd discovered her, after all - and she recalled the name mentioned in one of Ninian's missives.

It was a testament to Kalierre's general weariness that she left the other woman standing there, still holding out the forms, to shift through a stack of papers in the hopes of finding that letter again. Normally Kali wouldn't have been so rude. At least she might have apologized briefly, explaining that there was something she was looking for...

"Ah. Here it is." Absently, the dragonhealer reached out a hand for the transfer papers, her eyes scanning the crumpled letter. One of these days she'd go through all of this stuff and get it organized. When she had the time.

Yes. Lumari, that was the name. The journeywoman Ninian had mentioned as being involved in a scandal back at Fort, something about - wait, what? Her gaze flicked back up to the younger woman's face, her expression having blanked, before she continued to read the brief paragraph amidst all the others. (Apparently Ninian was somewhat disappointed that Kalierre's replies were cursory at best, as he spent a great deal of ink complaining about it.) Faux surgeries. Lumari had been directly involved in creating circumstances to allow her to perform increasingly daring knife work, apparently under the influence of one of the other masters at the Hall.

Only then did she glance at the papers, setting down Ninian's letter. Journeywoman Lumari, 3rd turn, to be treated as a 1st turn. Under direct supervision of one of the ranking Selenitas journeymen. No indication of why she was being treated that way, which frankly annoyed Kalierre, given she would have no idea what was going on had she not been in contact with Ninian. There was also a request for frequent reports to be sent, three times a turn, to the Hall regarding Lumari. More work. Just what she needed: an overzealous journeywoman to babysit.

As she frankly doubted the woman hadn't read her own transfer papers, Kalierre cleared a small part of her desk and set them there, resting her elbows on its surface as she regarded Lumari over her folded hands. "It seems you've had a bad run of luck, Journeywoman Lumari." She didn't intend to give away the fact that she knew what was suspected of the newcomer. If this was an action Lumari was likely to repeat on her own - there was a better chance of catching her if she feigned ignorance.

And if the journeywoman saw through it? Well, it was no real problem, for either Lumari would be smart enough to steer clear of such actions, or she wouldn't. In the latter case, the journeywoman would likely be fully discharged from the craft. Either scenario was fine with Kalierre.

The older woman allowed her hands to fall, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "As we're short on staff here, I can honestly say you're welcome at this infirmary - even if it does mean you'll have me constantly looking over your shoulder." Extending her hand, she added, "I'm Kalierre." She felt no need to state credentials. Her knots said enough. Green weyrling. Dragonhealer. Senior Journeywoman.

Waiting until Lumari took her hand, the woman's grip tightened firmly, though not painfully. She had surprisingly strong hands from working with them so many turns. Her left hand coming up to further cement her hold on the journeywoman, the words were deceptively soft given the steel that had come into her eyes.

"You won't be causing me any trouble, will you, Journeywoman?"

[sparrow]

Lumari waited patiently without the appearance of waiting as Kalierre scrabbled through her things, searching for papers. Her own were sufficiently bland, after all. She remained standing as the Journeywoman perused her papers; there was no reason to sit when she would be gone so soon, and it would assume a comfort in this quiet place that Lumari didn't particularly want to pretend to. Scarcely comfortable in an atmosphere of minor cuts and burns, the staunch silence of this impractically hidebound place needled her more than it should have.

In spite of herself, the Journeywoman could not prevent a flicker of tension from sharpening the lines of her face in the brief moment between seeing Kalierre's expression and meeting her eyes. The older woman looked nearly broken by the papers surrounding her, and despite the gauntness of the features that presented themselves to Lumari's eye, there was a weird youth to her face. She couldn't be older than her mid-twenties, and already she was reduced to this. Another girl might have felt pity. Lumari's eyes, however, gleamed with an incurious void. It was not her problem if others didn't know how to care for themselves, how to wangle their way to what they needed instead of finding themselves used as what others wanted instead. Either the Journeywoman would find a way to deal with it, or she would fail and shatter herself against all she had to do. Neither option would change Lumari's own situation.

A decree descended from on high, and she listened with a quiet that was more wry than respectful. That Lumari hadn't been asked a single question about her peculiar transfer was validation enough. The woman didn't look to be a fool, and she certainly didn't seem sympathetic enough to skip asking questions simply because they might offend Lumari. But she hadn't, which meant that she knew, or thought she did. The way the Journeywoman had phrased it was odd -- but clear. She didn't want trouble, which was fine. Lumari didn't particularly crave it herself. But it did imply that whether Lumari continued her unsavory practices at Selenitas wouldn't matter, so long as she didn't bring more paperwork onto the other woman's desk. Which offered her a complex situation. From the looks of the Apprentices working outside, they were seriously understaffed when it came to Healers. Still, if life here proved as boring as it seemed, surely she could find someone to work under - or work with, if it came to that - and produce a similar working arrangement, just different enough to prevent expulsion if they should be discovered anew.

She was learning a kind caution, at least. That would have to be enough for now.

Her clear eyes lifted again, shining open and serene. "You've got enough to deal with as it is," Lumari answered, and gestured without irony or disrespect towards the papers towering on every corner of Kalierre's station. "I'd have to be very cruel to put you more than that on your plate." Curiosity, ever irrresistable, led her on into questions that danced on the borderline of impertinence. Not only danced -- there were possibly little high kicks involved. "Are you the seniormost Healer here?" she inquired, raising a brow. "Because I'd say that this," the Journeywoman jerked her chin, "is more administrative work than Journeywomen tend to get." Especially Journeywomen; the North hadn't been particularly keen in putting people without dangly bits in charge of anything more than cooking, and barely that.

One of the advantages, the woman thought complacently, of being a girl, and at the Journeywoman-level, to boot.

Dismissing that line of questioning after a moment's thought - it was strange, but in the long run of things it would hardly matter to Lumari, particularly given the unlikely conditions of her transfer - she pursued a different route of words instead. "So what work should I be doing as you look over my shoulder?" she asked. "Do the people here work in shifts, and do you get to choose them?" Her voice was utterly bare of fear, so unprovokedly friendly that there was almost a kind of naivety in it. She had seen the shadows circling the woman's eyes, glimpsed the cool, cutting twist to her lips, and acknowledged each without particular interest. Lumari had never been wise enough to be appropriately cautious; it was, perhaps, one of her besetting sins. "It's a Weyr, of course," she added critically, the words more to herself than to Kalierre. "So of course there's going to be fighting, but..."

The Healer broke off again, focusing on the weary woman before her. "What kind of injuries do you usually get here? You're experienced, you're old... ish, and you're probably due for a break from those papers. Spare a moment for a poor new girl and talk shop with me." She had never been particularly mannerly with authority. Chastened, she lowered her lashes in a pentient way that might have worked better if the lashes had been longer, her face had been less block-shaped, and if Kalierre had been a man. "If I'm out of line, send me out to sew up men with the other Apprentices." Her voice curled with a pale echo of the irony that had touched Kalierre's smile. "After all, I'm here to serve."

[Requiem]

A brow rose at the words Lumari chose to speak, though her expression hardly changed otherwise. Had she implied that she was only concerned with how the woman's actions might cause her more work? Perhaps. It didn't much matter now, and Kalierre was not the sort to go out of her way to explain herself when the purpose had been achieved. Lumari knew she'd be watching her. That, for now, was enough.

One thing she could say for this newcomer, however, was that she probably didn't realize just how offensive she came off with her flippant questions. No, Kalierre wasn't the seniormost healer in Selenitas, technically - but neither was she a doormat who usually allowed others to thrust her into roles she shouldn't be filling. She just had little choice at the moment. If she refused to take up the slack, there would be a lot of innocent people and dragons forced to deal with the consequences. The master healer was sickly, the other dragonhealer was curiously absent, and I'ir couldn't be bothered to spend time in the infirmary with the Weyrleader increasing the intensity and length of the drills. Those three were the only ones of nearly equal or higher standing than she. And, for one reason or another, they'd effectively abandoned her to the running of the infirmary, forcing Kalierre to take on their workloads in addition to her own.

I'ir wasn't an issue, really. He was technically below her, as well, though she could have used his help. She understood that he was more needed with his wing right now. And the master healer - well, she'd apprised the Hall of the situation. They might send someone else. Then again, they'd likely just tell her to handle it herself. Fort Hall didn't tend to respond to requests from Selenitas overly favorably. She hoped, however, that if they didn't send another healer to take his place, they'd at least send her a few higher level journeymen...not quacks like this one.

No, her main beef was with Trenlor. As far as she knew, there was nothing to prevent him from continuing his work with the dragons. He was the only other trained in dragonhealing, aside from her. Just him being here might have been enough to allow her to get some decent sleep once in awhile...She had an apprentice tracking him down at that very moment. Hopefully, she'd be able to drag him back into the infirmary in short order. He was higher-ranking as a dragonhealer, but Kalierre maintained a curious sort of clout, as she'd started in the healing field, rather than the dragonhealing field, and dragonriders tended to carry more weight than those who weren't bonded to the creatures. Thus he was under something of an obligation to come at her summons - if he could be found.

Though Kalierre didn't have much in the way of official authority, even at Benden she'd been grudgingly respected as something of a giant in her craft. The woman had an intuitive feel for healing that a lot of her fellow craftsmen just didn't possess, and she was more than content to simply do her best for her patients and allow the more power-hungry to run the show. What was recognized in the north was something people were willing to utilize in the south. Though Kali couldn't much say she appreciated it at the moment. Her heart was with her patients, not somewhere in all these stacks of papers.

Despite the flood of thoughts that had come at Lumari's comment, the which passed through her head in mere seconds, her only response was a mild shrug. Close-mouthed at the best of times, Kalierre didn't tend to be overly verbiose when in the presence of strangers who made her feel vaguely uneasy. Which Lumari did. Kali got the distinct impression that this woman was something like her polar opposite.

As the questions began spilling out, Kalierre shifted in her chair, the flicker behind her eyes betraying some of this discomfort. "Talk shop," she echoed dully. Yes, she did need a break, but she wouldn't exactly consider a conversation with this woman relaxing. A mild twitch of her lips betrayed some of that cynical streak as Lumari finally wound down. "Somehow, I rather doubt that," she responded, more to herself than anything else. The woman tucked one of the strands that had escaped her braid back behind her ear.

"We do work in shifts, yes...which I'll set. You won't be working the times that I can't be here, but if you have any specific requests, make them now." Her solemn eyes met Lumari's gaze steadily. She really was rather no-nonsense, this Kalierre. "It will be a little different than either of the northern weyrs, and certainly different from what you knew at the holds. Women are not considered inferior to men here, which should work somewhat in your favor." Kalierre didn't comment on the journeywoman's rather dominant personality. That must have gotten her into a bit of trouble up north.

"Neither do the dragon wings fight. I'm afraid you're rather misinformed on that count. Selenitas has thus far remained neutral in the war of the northern weyrs." She smiled tightly. "Most of what you encounter here will be minor injuries, the usual range of illnesses, injuries related to threadscore or to overexertion on the part of the dragonriders and their dragons, and, in some cases, injuries inflicted by felines. We had a couple of weyrlings and a candidate fall prey to the creatures a few weeks ago. That will be something you'll want to study up on, as there isn't a feline presence in the north."

[sparrow]

At Lumari's proposal, Kalierre seemed to twitch and look as though she'd seen death. If her superior was any example of the Weyr's denizens, then maybe this was why Selenitas wasn't involved in the wars, the Journeywoman reflected; because none of them could stand human interaction for long enough to quarrel about it. Not that it mattered, really, since she was offering information that Lumari wanted. The buzz of travelling was rapidly disappearing, and an exhausted calm had started to settle over her. With a little shudder, Lumari flicked it off again. Complacency was what had brought her to Selenitas in the first place. And while she had never learned from her mistakes before, there was no reason that she shouldn't start.

She didn't respond to the comparison. The North had treated her fine. The contempt of others had never unsettled her, the brawnier among her cousins had always guarded her from any unwanted advances, and the whims of her fellows had matched her own so that when she wanted to pull a trick, there was always someone to partner her in trouble. Lumari had not lacked for much in that age of oppression and weakness, and because she herself was comfortable, she had never looked to cure anything beyond the outward injuries of others. She had always been just so: primarily selfish and more absorbed in her work than the people who composed it.

Here she might be free - free to be ascend to any position (and do paperwork, blech), free to stand equal to any man - but she was alone and unwanted, and they expected her to be grateful for it. It was not the wonderful trade that everyone seemed to suggest.

"How many hours a shift?" she inquired. "On a seven-day rotation, I only need eight hours of sleep for five days straight - on the sixth, I can drop to four. Will it be possible for me to take over more shifts?" After a little artless pause that fooled no one, she threw in another question: "Do you keep records of what times people are most likely to be injured?" At the Healer Hall, with its proximity to the Weyrs, the times of greatest injury had traditionally been the dead of night - easier for attack - and the break of dawn - when all shifts were switching over. Selenitas, however, promised to be absurdly different - and farther from the familiar than she had ever been.

Not that it mattered. She had never been homesick before, and she wasn't about to start.

The Healer let her eyes widen deliberately. How she was learning! "I haven't been informed of anything," she told the older woman comfortably, which was true enough. After the verdict had been passed down, Lumari had deliberately closed mind and ears to all knowledge of Selenitas. At the very least, she had been half-thinking in that blind haze of confusion and mourning, in that quiet little corner of the world, she'd have some residual surprises left to her if she knew nothing of the place to which she had been assigned. It had been a chancy gesture, as likely to make her look foolish as entertain her, but little else had been in her power to fulfill by then. She should have gleaned it, however, from the way that Selenitas was rarely, if ever, mentioned; it was always Benden and Fort, each staggeringly heavy with loss. "I was talking about the riders, not the dragons. You know dragonriders -- of course you do," she caught herself with a little glance down at Kalierre's knot. "Few of them ever have weak personalities. And a wing full of strong personalities usually breeds a few brawls here and there." Brawls were considerably more entertaining than the mishaps Kalierre had mentioned. The fights where the only goal was to hurt the other as badly as possible (while still allowing for healing so that they could go back to fighting Thread afterwards) were always her favorites; the treatments had to be more delicate, and frequently creative (because dragonriders were creative), which was always a test of her self-control.

Surely there had to be brawls around here?

So the older Journeywoman preferred business over chatting, disapproved of untraditional things, and ran the Infirmary with a fist more silent than iron-bound. Lumari filed the information to consult later; it wasn't as if it would be of any use now. "How often do people get injured by felines around here?" She tossed her next question at the other Healer languidly enough, but there was an air of gleaming interest to her expression that would have been more appropriate to a collector of trinkets. It was too sharp and intrigued by the craft they both practiced - less interested in the patients than in the techniques they would use, the aesthetics of the human body.

Of course, Lumari had never been good at pretending that she was anything other than what she was: fascinated by her profession, intent on practicing it on as many people as possible. And it would hardly be fair, in any case, if they should discriminate against her for sheer joy in doing what she did. So long as she kept her nature to a simmer for the first few sevendays, they would have no reason to boot her. Those first days were always the most delicate.

She was leaping from question to question, subject to subject with only the barest of threads to tie them together, but it hardly seemed to matter. There was no point in dawdling with idle chatter; clearly there was nothing she could do about Kalierre, or anything else she had been faced with. Clenching a sudden flash of irritation at this powerlessness between her teeth, she swallowed it down and forced out another question. "Are there any wounded folk that I can study right now, or should I simply go pore through the records?" At least, she thought dryly with another glance at the hides, she could be sure that they kept good records here. It wouldn't be downright entertaining, but then, it could have been so much worse.

Although since when had she been an optimist..?