Stitches (E'rro)

[dragon]

Normally, Dorava would not even think to complain about her wher-handler hours in the infirmary. She was just glad to be there, and learning ... but sometimes it did really get in the way. What she was going to do when Aonith was approved for active duty again, she didn't know. Daytime dragonriding duties and nighttime healer duties didn't tend to really go well together. It was more than likely either going to end up with her and Aonith vanishing between to never be seen again, or her sleeping in her books while in the infirmary.

And if she started sleeping on shift, she knew she was going to get kicked out of the infirmary ... which she didn't want. Most assuredly, she didn't want that. She really did want to someday be a healer, and not just staff... thus all the time she devoted to studying when the infirmary did not actively need her doing something.

But right now, these were not the concerns in her mind. Instead, she was scratching at one eye in an attempt to be awake. There was someone on the morning shift she wanted to see ... E'rro, more specifically. He had done a dandy job of stitching Aonith up after Benden had attacked, despite being dead on his feet at the time...

And now Dorava wanted to know if he thought the stitches could come out. She'd spent the whole interval of time carefully keeping the areas exceptionally clean for optimum healing, not to mention keeping the wounds themselves well greased to keep the scars from forming quite so thich ... or so stiff. Scarring had happened, naturally, and she'd expected it. But after reading about how regular 'moistening' of skin wounds with grease would ease the effects of scarring, Dorava had decided that it couldn't hurt and had tried it. And it had worked, remarkably enough. Naturally, she always oiled her dragon every time she washed her, but three times a day she had made a point of greasing those spots.

Having been keeping a close eye on the things, she had been pleased to note no infections, which had been a very real concern for her. After the last round of skin infections Aonith had suffered, neither of them wanted to repeat that ... and since when she'd gotten those gouges, she'd been underwater in the river, it was something Dorava had worried about.

Now ... it was time to see if any of the actual dragonhealers thought the stitches could be removed. And she had wanted E'rro to do it, since he'd been the one to stitch her up. He'd be the most familiar with her case, after all. So, ... there she was, in the infirmary at an odd hour.

"E'rro?" She asked, wishing she were a little more awake and a little less tired.

[Tashe]

Sneezing hard, the Brownrider turned his head away from the top of the wooden box he was carrying. R'wign had been ever so kind in assigning him the duty of packing all of the scrolls and record diagrams of dragons, whers and Flits and then transporting them to the newly constructed Infirmary. This was his third trip, and the dust on some of the older ones had finally began to agitate his sinuses. Rubbing his nose on his sleeve, E'rro took the last few steps toward the shelving that would now house the dutifully bound hides and parchments. It would take a while to actually reorganize the scrolls, but the Apprentice healer had been smart and made sure that the different items went into the boxes in the more or less the same groupings. But since the records had been jumbled slightly because of their swift removal from the old infirmary, he still had to look through them and set them back in an efficient order. Stepping back to survey his work area, E'rro sighed and rubbed his hands together, getting any debris on them off before he started to work.

A fourth of a candle mark had passed and E'rro found himself sitting on the floor, looking over a folder of disorganized records. He hadn't expected to find one in such disrepair. In fact, he had almost gotten it organized when a familiar face entered the infirmary. Looking up as his name was called, the Brownrider put the file on top of a box before getting up to go see what he could do for the person. As soon as his head rose above the level of the tables, E'rro connected the voice to a body. He wouldn't admit it freely, but he slightly missed working with Dorava now that her shifts having been changed from Day to Night. Dusting his hands off on his pants, the Brownrider nodded toward the woman. "Is there something that I can help you with?"

[dragon]

Dorava smiled when she saw E'rro finally ... she had for a spare moment started to think maybe she'd gotten confused and come to the infirmary at the wrong shift to find him. "Hi! Do you have a moment, or are you busy? I don't have anything overly important that is pressed for time ... I just wanted to know if I could get you to look at Aonith's wing and back? I've been looking after it, but being as biased as I am when it comes to my own dragon ... I thought I'd better have you look at her again before any real decisions or actions were made. And, I know, anyone could look and talk, but ... you stitched her up, so I kinda ... thought you'd be a good person to look at it again. Since you know what it was like before." Dorava explained, before she realized she was rambling. And then she just grinned a little sheepishly, and shrugged. "Sorry."

She was just used to always having to explain herself, for every little action she took. And it was one of many habits she had accrued that were being slightly difficult to shake. Though it was one she was trying really hard to do so with, as the people at Selenitas didn't seem to like it at all. It tended to piss them off more than anything else, really. Which ... wasn't very good. So with another sheepish smile and another shrug, she tried to figure out what to do. Dorava ended up stuffing her hands in her pockets, and just waiting to see what he said.

He was younger than her, but he was still a longer resident of Selenitas, and by quite a bit senior to her in the infirmary. Which made treading around him rather awkward at best. How did one know how to step in such instances? Dorava imagined that it wasn't often that someone tried to take up a new trade so late in life. But beastcrafting was not exactly something that was going to help her these days ... she needed to know healing. Especially since Aonith was apparently very prone to getting badly hurt.

The hands being stuffed into the pockets illicited a rather indignat chirp, and Valiant bit down on Dorava's fingers. That hurt!!! The little blue and white mandyr had been sleeping curled up in there, and her cramming her hand in on top of him had stressed some of his own injuries. Something he was not happy about at all. With a jump and a jerk, Dorava yanked her hands back out of her pockets, rubbed her little bite, and just stared at her own pocket for a moment. She'd completely forgotten that Val had been in there. "Oh ..." She said, simply.

Dorava looked at E'rro again. "Whenever you have time, maybe Val could use a looking over, too?" She asked, as his little blue head popped out of her pocket to chirp again unhappily. "I think he's doing really well, though."