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 Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 5:19 pm
It wasn't like Gamoira never cut her fingers.
Being of naturally large size, her hands were sometimes not quick enough to get out of the way of her carving knife. It happened often enough that she had a little jar of numbweed for such occasions. The cuts were usually small nicks, and stopped bleeding within a few minutes. But this cut was bigger than the norm, which meant she had to set down her carvings and trundle all the way down the Healers just to get them to fix it up. She wouldn't have gone, except she didn't want to bleed all over her wood. Waste of a perfectly good carving, and the girl despised ruining something she had spent so much time on.
Still, cutting her fingers this deep made her angry, more so than she already was. She knew why she'd been distracted enough to nearly lop off her finger. Her friend had replaced her with an overgrown flit. Though she knew that Hesendek – or H'dek as he called himself now that little... – would never admit it out loud that he liked Bondyeth better than her she could tell. Mo knew their relationship had changed the moment that stupid orange thing laid its eyes on her best friend. He wouldn't have time for her anymore. She had half a mind to go back to the Vintner Crafthall, but she knew that would be the equivalent of the short end of the stick. She didn't really have much of a choice in the matter, when it all came down to it.
Thus, there was, in front of the Healers, with a spare shirt wrapped around her hand and a very dark scowl on her face.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 4:43 pm
“Keep working on those copies, my friend. You’ve been far too busy lately, so I’ll take care of this one.”
The Healer who had spoken now greeted the visiting girl with a “Right over there, Miss,” as he passed. He had briefly pointed toward the only other figure in the room, bent over one of the tables. The Healer at the table was a thin, somewhat disheveled man who was in the middle of scribing patient records and other important information that needed to be kept safe. He was frowning irritably until he noticed Gamoira and softened his features into a sympathetic smile.
The smile was one practiced until it would appear on command, and right now it was masking his intense frustration. He was needed out there, not in here, copying records like some common scribe! He didn’t want the other Healers’ pity. He knew his state of living was substandard, but he could handle it, by Faranth! And this was no dragonrider here for a checkup, if he wasn’t mistaken. But since he was the only Healer present, it was left up to him.
“Are you seeking assistance?” he inquired, getting to his feet.
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 7:21 pm
Mo's eyes narrowed slightly when the look changed to a smile, but she said nothing. People who could smile that quickly (and easily for that matter) were always up to something. Except for Hesendek. He could smile that quickly and mean it. She had a feeling this Healer was all show. Still, if he would fix her hand and make it so she didn't bleed all over her carvings then she didn't care what expression he had on his face. Competence was much more important than looks.
At the question she stuck her injured hand out, shirt and all. Just looking at it made her more irritated, but she tried not to look anymore unpleasant than usual. If this Healer was going to help her then she wanted him to do a good job. Since she wasn't a pretty girl – she had heard that pretty girls got substantially better treatment – she had to at least look like she wasn't going to slug the Healer if he was too rough with her. It took a lot of focus.
"'s cut," she grunted. "Belt knife."
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Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2009 8:58 pm
Entan didn’t really care about girls, much less the pretty ones. He had a special place in his heart for a young woman who—if he were to be absolutely honest—looked like a man. This one girl was all he could fit into his busy life anyway. Too much study to be done, and too many patients to treat. Like this one.
The Healer went to work, quickly gathering numbweed and other supplies that he might need. He brought these over to his latest patient and began to carefully unwrap the shirt that covered the injury. “Was there anything on the knife when it cut you?” he asked, examining the cut when it was finally revealed. “I can smell the numbweed that’s already on this wound, but I may need to apply more. It looks like you’ll need a stitch or two.”
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Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 7:13 pm
"..." Gamoira hesitated, brain cells working so hard that one might see steam coming out of her ears if they looked close enough. Was there anything on the knife when it cut her? Um.... well, it was made of metal. And she'd taken it out of its little pouch to use so the pouch hadn't been touching it. Was there anything else? Her eyebrows scrunched together, and she finally said, "I was... carvin'. So I guess some other stuff coulda been on the knife... maybe." Why did Healers always have to ask such hard questions? They always put her on the spot.
She merely grunted at his assessment, not the type to argue with a Healer. Nobody argued with Vintners about the wine they produced because it was their Craft, and so nobody should argue with what the Healers did because it was their Craft. Mo tried to be a good patient whenever she had to grace the Healer's room with her presence, and thus kept her hand completely still for whatever Entan was going to do to it.
However she did ask, "'s it deep?"
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Posted: Fri Apr 10, 2009 6:42 pm
The girl’s hesitance before answering such a simple question alarmed Entan. Quickly, but casually, as if it was no different than glancing up at the sky to gauge the time, he slipped his fingers up to her wrist to check her pulse… It was normal, considering her injury. However, she might have lost more blood than he’d first thought. How long had she waited before coming down?
“There’s nothing to worry about, it’s not very deep,” he assured her, but he pulled a chair over and gestured for her to sit down. He went to one of the cabinets and took a sweetstick out of the cup that the Healers kept there for anxious children, then offered it to the girl. “Here, eat this while I clean your hand.”
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Posted: Sat Apr 11, 2009 3:18 pm
She was completely oblivious to his alarm, seeing as he hadn't given her one of those quick looks. Mo had gotten those enough times to realize what they meant. They were the type that practically screamed "you didn't just say something that stupid and mean it, did you?" Usually she answered that unasked question with her fist, though if the person corrected themselves she could forgive them. So long as they didn't then go out of their way to pity her. Even if it wasn't her fault that she thought more linearly and slowly than everyone else, she didn't like being pitied.
"Good," Mo grunted, glad that the wound wasn't going to incapacitate her. "I can still do my carvin' and such, yeah?" She moved to sit when she was told to do so, shifting a little to get comfortable. There were times that she missed her chair at home. It was the only one she had that fit her just right. Entan's next comment surprised her, and she frowned up at him. "Eat it? What for?"
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