Night shift - [open]

[tompoko]

Watching the small fly plant itself on the desk which Tyrone had his feet rested on, he couldn’t resist the challenge of swatting it. In doing so he ended up on the floor from his midly uncomfortable sitting position. His ass was falling asleep anyways, and even though he did not get the fly – noticing it now buzzing over to the nearest glow—he felt he had accomplished at least something on his overly quiet night shift.

It had been a while since the end of the siege on selenitas weyr and the injuries that were still around were stabilized and healing. The people who weren’t going to make it were dead, and routine and order (or as much as you could get in any open door medical setting) was returning. There had been two admissions tonight. A chronic ear ache; he was given some *penicillin, pain killers, and was told to stay the night for observation. And then that man that came in at the same time every month for his unexplainable headaches. An injectable analgesic was given for him, and also told to go lay down. The duties were done, medical charting had been completed and filed and all that was left to do was either crush wandering flies or wake up his sleeping companion in the back.

Tyrone prodded Astendith with his mind. The pale blue was fast asleep; he could feel his presence to his back, somewhere near by. Tyrone knew exactly where the dragon was. He had cleaned that stupid hay stack himself. It was a pain having to come in an hour before work to do it, but the thought of Astendith being near by was much more comforting than the nuisance it caused. Thankfully the head healer was relatively sympathetic to newly acquired dragon bonds and didn’t say much on his dragon sleeping outside.

Tyrone did another round. Walking between the cots without tripping over some linen, or waking anyone up was a challenge, but Tyrone had a good route picked. No one awake, a few stirring, and then there was respiratory infection central. They were kepted in a partitioned area since they usually ended up coughing all night. *Anti-tussive medication was usually administered only in serious cases, or if a patient was *palliative.

Returning to the head desk, he sighed to himself. It was a horrible thing to have someone come in with a life threatening illness or injury, but at least it would liven things up a bit.


*Anti-tussive – anti-cough medication; usually codeine, or other opioid analgesics. – Yes, they did bring over the opioid plant, and also *penicillin.
* palliative – in the stages of death

Fun fact - Woman, if pregnant, can have spontaneous abortions from too many jumps.
-http://www.pern.nl/pe/R_table.html
- about advantages of female over male green riders in Threadfall

[glamourie]

“You could probably get switched to a day shift yanno… I bet they wouldn’t mind, since you’re a weyrlingrider now.”

The owner of the voice, distinctly feminine and very high pitched (a clear indication of her age if ever there was one), came into sight rounding the corner from the entrance to the makeshift infirmary. Kalerary was eight turns old, and it showed in how small she actually was; for a girl of her age she was on the short side and petite, though that was to be expected given how small her father was. Her long, dark brown hair hung free of any confines and she’d brushed it over the side of her face to hide the scarring. During the attack, she was slashed, clear across her face and her ear was cut rather badly. Three months had passed and she was completely healed… outwardly… but the embarrassment wasn’t gone. It was hard enough being a child that didn’t quite act like a child (a side effect of growing up in a war environment), but looking like a mutant made it all the worse; Kale really had no friends. Hiding behind her hair made her feel a little less self-conscious.

Some might question why a child was awake in the middle of the night and not in her rooms with her parents. The answer was simple: Kalerary didn’t sleep very well of late. Behind her eyes she saw flashes of that monster (she refused to mentally label him a human being) who had hurt her, who killed so many, and she woke up shaking in terror. She felt guilty waking her father up because it usually resulted in Savitri also being woken - and Savitri was pregnant. She didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable just because she had nightmares. So, instead, Kalerary would sneak from her own bed, pull on one of her father’s shirts over her pajamas, and prowl out for somewhere to do… something. Anything other than wallow in her bad feelings. The kitchens proved ill-suited, for the drudges worked all hours, and the infirmary was occupied, but… but Kalerary wanted to be a healer not a cook. So it was the infirmary she came to.

Her gaze snagged on the boy whose name she didn’t know and she lingered, just outside of the doorway in case of someone needing to rush in. She did not approach him. That she spoke at all was a miracle; typically, men frightened Kalerary. Given that she grew up at Fort Weyr, it was surprising to very few: she’d been taught early not to trust any male without a good reason. Selenitas was different, safer, but she had yet to break herself fully of the habit. Her eyes flicked back and forth, gray-blue orbs filled with anxiety, and she scurried over so that she was out of everyone’s way. Watching and learning was one of the best tools she had. The only thing better was actually being taught, but R’wign, her favored teacher (he was almost an older brother to her) was sound asleep … probably snoring and drooling on his pillow in a fashion not unlike his fire lizard Stumpy.

Kale squirmed. Her gaze remained snared on the boy - young man? - nervously, before she looked toward the ledge of the dragon entrance. “You do belong to the sleeping blue outside, right…?” ‘Belong to’ -- Weyr speak. She was weyrbred through and through and no part of her ever stopped to think her wording might have been… off. “My name is Kalerary… is there -- can I help…?”

[tompoko]

The little girl’s voice, or at least he assumed it was a little girl, cut the silence in the infirmary. T’yr turned around on his heel in the direction of the voice. It had come from behind him towards the entrance of the infirmary.

Upon turning, he found the source of the comment. Yeah, he was right. She was short, with long locks of brown hair which hid her face. /how does she know I don’t wanna work night shift.. do I look that bored?/ T’yr walked towards the little girl and stopped a few feet away. It was odd to have someone here this late, the girl didn’t look injured or ill and her parents were no where in sight. Even though her voice didn’t give it away, the slight shake of her arms and shoulders and her positioning to the side of the door made T’yr assume she was a bit nervous. “Yeah, I belong to the blue. His name is Astendith. How did you guess?” he said, while crouching down making his height level with the girls.

Getting a better view of her face now, he noticed a glimpse of scaring under the brown locks shadowing her face. /probably from the attack.. looks healed though/ T’yr thought. He didn’t recognize her at all. She must have been either treated during the day for her wound or was tended to at home.

“So what’s your name? What are you doing around the infirmary this late at night; can’t sleep?” T’yr paused. “If that’s the case, you can keep me company.” Standing up, T’yr walked out the entrance way while waving the girl on to follow him. He headed towards his groggy dragon.

[glamourie]

“Because he’s a weyrling, can’t be over two months old, and I know all the full-fledged riders that are also healers,” Kalerary replied honestly. She made a point to memorize almost every dragon rider’s name, another run-off habit from Fort. She’d been at Selenitas almost a full turn, but most of the habits ingrained into her personality hadn’t changed. For example, she still had trouble speaking to bronze riders and outright couldn’t meet their eyes. However, Kalerary was getting better. She spoke to males first sometimes, after all, and her refusal to leave her father’s weyr was gone. Of course, initially it was Z’hin’s weyr she’d refused to leave for very long, but… he was gone, and he wasn’t ever coming back. She’d lost enough people in her life to understand that, even if it made her want to curl into a ball and cry when she thought about it for long. She’d gotten better though. She was approaching people, and she’d taken to trying to get healer training when she could. Eight was a little too young, she was told, to be formally introduced to apprenticeship, but she was trying.

All of the questions that followed made her cock her head to the side. Hadn’t she just introduced herself…? Perhaps he hadn’t heard her; she was soft-spoken except when angry (and then she got loud and was prone to making faces that were termed identical to her father’s). The closer that the boy came, the more skittish she felt, and Kalerary had to force herself to remain rooted in place. Her chin tilted up in a half-show of defiance. It wasn’t directed at the healer-man but herself. She would not be frightened off just because he came closer to her. After everything she’d lived through the past few weeks - nearly being slaughtered by Benden’s Weyrsecond, for example - she was not going to be frightened by some healer from Selenitas who probably wouldn’t hurt a hair on anyone’s head, let alone hers! She wouldn’t!

Kalerary squirmed, her fingers turning in the hem of her shirt, before she blew a strand of her hair from her face. Before she could answer, the boy was walking off and she turned to toddle after him. Dragons didn’t frighten her, not even the largest queen. Grenostith, her aunt’s gold, was larger than any other dragon on Pern before she’d gone between permanently, and Hepaticath was a close comparison. Her father’s bronze was also by no means small. Ciceroth may have been the largest bronze at Selenitas -- she didn’t know, but in her eyes he was the best, so it didn’t matter.

“I’m Kalerary,” she repeated, acting under the assumption he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t sleep so well. I want to be a healer - I usually come to learn during the day shift when I’m out of the way and sometimes they let me tie off bandages, or get supplies. R’wign says I am too young to do much else, but I watch.” She lifted one hand to scratch at her hair and cocked her head back. “I want to learn, I want to help… that’s why I came here. There are people in the kitchens too, but I’m not too good at cooking and anyway that’s a girly thing to do.” From the slight scrunch of her nose, it was obvious Kalerary was not into anything ‘girly.’ She took great lengths to distinguish herself from the average female, with their emotional fits and fawning. She was better than that. She was better than children her age too, he’d see - she was very mature, she thought, and she was sure she could handle anything that a ten turn old could. If they got to be apprentices at ten, why couldn’t she at eight?

As the dragon came into view, the girl cocked her head to the side - a remarkable mimic of her father’s movements. The resemblance between the two of them was remarkable - right down to the only major differences being gender, age, and eye color. Kalerary had gray-blue eyes, while Ka’rys had dark, dark brown. “Astendith is very handsome,” Kalerary chipped in absently, keeping a few paces distance between herself and the healer. She liked blue dragons considerably more than any of the larger colors. Most of them were nicer. “I don’t know your name either…”

[tompoko]

T’yr sqatted on his heels listening to the girls response. “Ahhh.. your pretty clever for a.. 9 turn old? I bet your parents are proud.” The blue rider got the feeling that this girl learned more for necessity rather than from simple observation. / I wonder why shes so careful.. this weyr is probably one of the safest places to be anywhere.. well aside from that recent attack. / T’yr noticed he was babbling absently in his head, and also projecting his thoughts at the same time. For some reason he had a problem keeping them to himself, so to speak. Astendith didn’t hold it against him at least. He could feel the blue waking at that moment. A feeling of groggy reluctance sloshed through the bond. / … who are you talking to T’yr? / The dragons words had a tired edge behind them. / Just this girl. We’re coming out to see you. /

Walking towards the girl, he noticed her hesitation. T’yr did his best not to notice. The girl—Kalerary—answered his question as he passed her. “Kalerary, eh? Nice name. I started my healing training when I was your age. My mother was a really good healer back at the hold. She had myself and all my sisters taught in the art of healing. I enjoy it. It keeps my mind active and gets me out of drudge work.” T’yr glanced back to make sure Kalerary was following and smiled.

/ Good morning sleepy head. / T’yr projected towards his visibly groggy dragon companion. The pale blue was just stepping off his newly laid bed—which looked like it had seen better days already—and was walking toward them. / Morning sunshine. / Astendith sarcasticly pushed back at T’yr and his company. / Whos our little friend? / The blue turned his head toward the girl and sniffed at the hem of her skirt. “This is Kalerary, she says your handsome.” T’yr said and sent a verbatim thought to his dragon. / Why thank you little Kalerary. Did my dowdy—T’yr, since he forgets to introduce himself—companion ask you why your up and out this late at night? /

[glamourie]

“Eight,” Kalerary corrected, unashamed… though, honestly, she was pleased at being mistaken for older. So small was she that often times she got mistaken for six or seven, and for a child of her age, that one extra turn was a very big deal. It was the difference between her being a Big Girl and a baby. She was no baby. She’d proven that, and obviously this healer could see it too. The thought made Kalerary stick out her chest in pride, a subconscious action; she had no idea what she was doing, or she might have felt silly for showing off in front of a stranger. Not that he was liable to notice, since it only lasted about thirty seconds as she toddled awkwardly after him, her shoes smacking against the floor of the quiet infirmary as she went. By the time she caught up to the dragon’s side, she looked perfectly normal, save for the smile on her face.

She came to stop next to the young dragon and looked not at his rider, but at him. He was a good looking blue, in her opinion, but she had never met a blue or green she didn’t like. Few browns, either. Kalerary favored the chromatic dragons, not the metallics, despite the fact that her father was a bronze rider. Her mother at Fort was a greenrider, and the bias was undeniably ingrained into Kale long before she could talk. She absolutely detested golds, and was probably one of very few females on Pern who felt that way. Her mindset was that gold dragons existed for one purpose and one purpose only: to lay eggs. They didn’t deserve the recognition they got. Greens at least fought. They were useful. They didn’t fly around with flamethrowers looking ridiculous and causing other dragons to panic in fear of them being harmed. Golds were worthless. Greens and blues were the best.

The boy spoke and she turned to look at him through a strand of brown hair before raising an eyebrow awkwardly. He was her age…? Most apprentices didn’t start until ten at the earliest, she was told; R’wign and Kalierre were younger, but R’wign and Kalierre were also special in their own ways (to her). How interesting. Maybe she could be an official healer soon then…? But then she’d have to go to Healer Hall and that didn’t strike her as too fun…

“My father doesn’t know anything about healing. His weyrmate does, but I don’t want to ask her to teach me,” Kale admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t like watching things die without at least trying to do something about it. Seeing other people suffer makes me feel sad.” She was sick of people dying around her. Her mother. Z’hin. She was just tired of it, and she wanted to fix that by trying to become a healer. Maybe if she learned as much as she possibly could, she’d save lives, and then she wouldn’t have to watch the people she cared about die anymore. That was her reasoning, but she didn’t want to voice it to a perfect stranger. Some day she’d be able to look at someone and know she saved them. Some day. She was determined.

Sniffing at her clothes made Kalerary turn back to the dragon and she actually giggled at him. “T’yr’s his name?” she asked, directing the question to the weyrling and not his rider. “He didn’t introduce himself, but he did ask why I’m out and about. It’s because I can’t sleep and I want to be useful. It’s nice to meet you Astendith. I was hoping that T’yr would be nice enough to teach me some things. I like to learn, you see.” She leaned forward, offering one hand toward the dragon - she wanted to touch him, but she would make it his choice. She had no fear of dragons, but she wasn’t used to them talking to her mind to mind. Selenitas dragons were much less uppity about that than Fort, obviously. “Can I scratch your eye ridges?” Since Ciceroth liked that, she only assumed that Astendith would; most dragons seemed to…