Quest to Hoard up Karma [Jan Chores/Open]

[mierce]

Just as he had announced to Rulven in the jungle, Cer'c had finally made good on his intentions to gain favor with the infirmary staff. He had introduced himself and Harmonyth to one of the healers on duty and earned something of a sneer in response before being directed to a corner to help clean equipment.

Unfriendly: check. More cleaning: check. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to have just stuck to kitchen duty.

Still, Cer'c maintained a cheerful disposition as he settled down and began to meticulously (by his standards, anyway) scrub down the various oddly shaped tubes, flasks, plates, bowls, and all other manners of containers he had never seen before. Healing was serious business. Harmonyth made herself comfortable along a wall, out of the way and simply watched Hers work.

He was decidedly reckless and absentminded at times -- something even the young dragonet recognized -- and thus she was mildly surprised to see the determination in his eyes. As opposed to in the kitchens, Hers was not working as fast as he could nor attempting to make conversation with the bustling human females that breezed by behind him. His focus was on the seeming endless array of wares in front of him as he rotated between disinfecting the items and setting them down on large trays to be put away.

What are those things used for? she finally asked.

I dunno. Healing stuff I guess. Cer'c held up a wooden pestle. This is for grinding herbs.

Herbs? The green regarded the image Hers provided of fresh herbs with great interest. She had more questions, but decided to keep them to herself for now as she turned her head to watch the other humans in the room.

[Avu]

Since you can do things faster with two hands, can you leave earlier and come to me? Jingth inquired, and there was a plaintive note in her ‘voice’. The gold already knew the answer, of course. Hers never left the Infirmary before her shift was over, and sometimes not even then, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Perhaps someday Meira might indulge her. Doubtful, but maybe. The inflection of her words implied that she was uncomfortable, bored even, where she was, which was more or less a lie (but she hadn’t actually said it, so she was good, Jingth reasoned). Jingth was very much comfortable where she was, draped over one of the ‘ledges that was currently empty of any injured dragons, sprawled out as far as she could go, head resting on her forepaws idly.

Meira didn’t respond, though, save for a soft brush of amusement, and that was enough. It was very clearly a denial. The goldrider did, indeed, have both hands unoccupied though – which was a nice change, she expected; typically she was cradling Riaren with one arm and only set him down when she needed to. Generally made working in the Infirmary harder to do, but she compensated by staying longer. As it was, Riaren was currently with R’wign, but she did have Mimic curled around her wrist, happily licking her palm and purring enthusiastically as she brushed her fingers down his back.

The apprentice drifted past the last of the rooms after peeking in the doorway to make sure the occupant, a little girl who’d managed to break her left leg in three places, was asleep, before she spotted Cer’c and his tray of washed beakers and jars. Her path shifted and took her towards the greenweyrling, Meira squatting next to him and reaching out to touch the jars on one tray lightly with the pads of her fingers. “Are these washed?” she inquired quietly, the gesture lifting to indicate the other trays on which things had been piled. Better put them up before something happened and they broke.

Is good, Mimic offered, pleasantly wiggling from his perch around Meira’s wrist and crooning happily at Cer’c. Nice fixer— he was in the Infirmary, so of course he was a fixer, yes? He wasn’t hurt, and everyone who wasn’t hurt and was in the Infirmary was a fixer. Of course —so nice. Such pretty. The brown Salamandyr loved the Infirmary as much as Meira did (he made the patients happy, especially when there were young hatchling patients and Mimic adored making people happy, he did) and offered Cer’c a loud trill before he uncoiled from his Bonded’s wrist and half-glided and half-fell onto the floor next to the greenweyrling. A slight scurry and he rose into the ‘meerkat pose,’ head tipping to one side. Need help, nice fixer?

[mierce]

Faceted green-blue eyes followed the senior Goldweyrling as she neared. Harmonyth gently touched Hers’ mind to alert him of Meira’s approach--lest he be surprised and end up knocking everything to the ground. Cer’c looked up from a particularly cloudy beaker, momentarily confused by the young woman’s inquiry. “Yes…” he said slowly. He had been so far invested in the task at hand, words were difficult to form. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and repeated in a clearer, louder voice. “Yes, they have been washed.”

She is a goldrider, Harmonyth said, noting the knots that adorned the woman’s shoulder. Meira, of Jingth. At least one of them paid attention to lessons.

“Oh!” Cer’c half dropped, half set his beaker down and swiveled around in his little stool to face the woman. “Uhm…” his arms flopped a bit as he pondered what to do with them. They were supposed to be respectful of goldriders no? Even those who weren’t Weyrwomen? He bit his lip and awkwardly bobbed his head to her, then a friendly smile found its way into the corners of his lips as he met the woman’s eyes. “Hi, Meira! Nice to meet you! I’m Cer’c.”

Mimic’s appearance interrupted his thoughts, possibly for the better as Cer’c was about to conveniently forget about his duties and dive right into making conversation with the senior weyrling. “A fixer?” he repeated with something of an amused smile. Well, he hadn’t broken anything yet so he supposed he could still be called a fixer. The smile turned into a chuckle and he held out a hand to the brown salamandyr. “Sure you can help! Can you clean all these jars for me?” A ridiculous request of course, and Cer’c only laughed at the image of a little salamandyr wrapped in a rag, flopping and slithering from one container to the next.

[Avu]

“Thanks.” The word was murmured, Meira stifling the slight giggle at the vagueness of the boy’s voice. It probably wasn’t nice to laugh at it, but it was cute in a way, and she couldn’t quite help it. The goldrider leaned down, catching the tray by the edges and starting to lift it up. She didn’t want to disturb him or anything; she’d just pick it up and put it somewhere safe, like on top of a counter where it wouldn’t be as easily stepped on, and he could go on doing his – what, chores? Seemed a lot of people were doing chores in the Infirmary suddenly, but she wasn’t complaining in the least; she was actually extraordinarily grateful. The Infirmary was always such a busy place…the tray was balanced on one forearm awkwardly as she straightened a vial within a beaker and –

His sudden interest and life made her bite her lip to keep the grin from spreading; Meira tilted her head slightly to look down at him in his seated position. “Hello…it’s, um, it’s lovely to meet you, too, Cer’c…” A hesitant smile; she would have introduced herself except…he seemed to already know her name. Awkward. Not unexpected, given that Weyrfolk seemed to all know her by face, but still somewhat awkward. At least he’d offered his immediately so she wouldn’t have to actually ask. His name indicated that he’d Impressed, though, and…Meira glanced over at Harmonyth, a faint smile directed at the green, before she turned back to Cer’c and inquired, “Is she your dragon, then…?”

One of Millieth’s hatchlings, Jingth supplied pleasantly. A green? I don’t know this one. In other words, Cer’c wasn’t a real Healer – not a real fixer; Jingth knew most of the Healers’ dragons at least by name if not by sight. She just didn’t know the whers, for those that were ‘handlers; Meira was uncomfortable around whers and Jingth had responded by generally ignoring the nocturnal creatures. Tuelzanth, Eveyth, Harmonyth, Nemmalorith, Feyrianth, and Posilanth are the greens of that clutch. Take a guess; you’ve a one in six chance. The words were playful, and the gold didn’t expect an answer.

Meira blinked, hoping Cer’c hadn’t noticed the momentary flicker of amusement in her eyes from the dragon’s tone, given that he’d been apparently distracted by Mimic.

Said Salamandyr was crooning in pleasure at being acknowledged. Fixer. Yes, the Salamandyr echoed, nodding solemnly as his frill flicked up – the gesture wasn’t demanding or aggressive like most of his brethren tended to use it as, but definitely happy instead. Mimic was a very happy creature, after all. Will help. Too nice fixernew, will help. His intentions were purely helpful, yes, yes! He bounced forward, pressing his forepaws against the jar that Cer’c had set down (read: dropped) and licked it. See! See! Clean. Proudly, Mimic twisted to look up hopefully at Cer’c for approval. Yes? Help, see?

“Wonderful job, Mimic,” Meira murmured, crinkling her nose at the Salamandyr’s attempts as she took a few steps sideways to set the tray onto a counter. One hand pushed it inwards, away from the edge, beneath the cabinet, and she returned to Cer’c and Mimic, tilting her head to look down at the brown in affectionate amusement.

[mierce]

Cer’c laughed freely at Mimic’s efforts. So cute! Oh, he should have gone to the flitter and salamandyr hatching! Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that the beaker did not at any point contain something that would be harmful for a salamandyr to ingest, but the little brown seemed to be doing all right. “Thank you,” he said as he gently scooped the brown into cupped palms and set him on his knee before turning back to Meira. Cer’c was, of course, completely oblivious to any awkwardness Meira was feeling in regards to his actions and her own dragon’s playful words.

“Yes, she’s my dragon. Harmonyth.” He said proudly, beaming at the goldrider while the green in question offered a nod of her head to the young woman. “I’m just here for chores, hoping to score some brownie points with the staff here. Been told that some of the healers tend to be a bit quick to conclusions--”

Cer’clove… I think she may be an actual healer.

Eep! The greenweyrling clamped a hand over his mouth before he could stop the action. He tensed up, staring up at Meira with wide eyes as he tried to gauge her reaction to his little episode of word vomit. “Err um… I don’t mean you, of course!” The hand shifted to scratch the back of his head as a sheepish smile hung from his lips. “You seem very nice. Your salamandyr is nice too! Ah..hahaha…”