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 Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 8:55 pm
W'ten was Not Impressed.
It was rare that odds were not in his favour. He spent so much time calculating percentages based on the ever changing world that it wasn't too often he walked into danger of his own accord. As a boy he had rarely had to visit the Healers, not one to get into mischief or start fights with other boys over petty things. Logic has always kept him safe. Unfortunately, being told to mentor the frequently illogical and unpredictable K'em had proved to be a more of a hazard in his life than he had originally predicted. It was times like these that he almost regretted befriending the brownrider. Logically, he should sever ties, but he could not. Even if it was K'em's fault he felt like crap.
The brownrider pulled his blanket further over his head as though that would somehow make him feel better. It was logical, he told himself, to darken the room so that he would go to sleep faster. Sleep was the best way to heal. Of course after K'em had realized his roommate was ill – and it had taken him a while – he tried to play Healer. That had only lasted so long (thankfully) and the brownrider had finally left W'ten alone to sleep. Or rather, stare through his blankets at the wall. But it was close enough to sleep and he was willing to take whatever he could get. Anything to clear his brain. He couldn't even do a single math problem!
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 9:14 pm
“He’s done what.” Cordel glared at K’em, unable to believe what the Brownrider had just said about W’ten. Actually, that wasn’t completely true. The Healer would definitely imagine W’ten getting sick. He just couldn’t imagine him being so stupid as to try and hide it. That was really more of a K’em thing to do. But now the younger Brownrider was apparently trying to be responsible and let the Healer know that W’ten was sick.
Grumbling to himself, the Healer considered his duties. Really, he shouldn’t drop everything, just because his friend (antagonist?) was sick. That would be unfair to the others. But, then again, W’ten could have a thus far undiscovered disease, one that would spread quickly through the unprepared and overcrowded Weyr. Clearly, the only solution was to go and collect W’ten and bring him back here. But, since Cordel was pretty sharding certain that the Brownrider wouldn’t listen to reason----or, more precisely, would listen to all the wrong reasoning---he gathered up some things that he thought he might need and made his way to the weyr W’ten and K’em shared.
There was only one instance in which Cordel had marched into any of K’em’s rooms unannounced. That was all it took. Even though the other Brownrider was out, the Healer still knocked on the door before barging in. “W’ten, what do you think you’re doing? K’em told me you’re sick. This may surprise you, but sick people belong in the Infirmary. It’s why it’s there. I know. I’m sure you’re as surprised as I am.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 9:44 pm
The brownrider in question had just gotten comfortable again and shut his eyes when someone decided to march into his weyr like a herd of bovine. Had he had any energy left he would have sat up and given the intruder the left eyebrow raise of doom. He was, however, feeling quite under the weather, and decided that whoever it was could just go away. It was probably one of K'em's many women "friends" looking for him. They would realize soon enough that their prized stallion was not in his stable, and thus they should leave before W'ten decided to sic Kaieth on them.
It was only when the intruder spoke that W'ten realized that he hadn't been too far off his mark. Only the gender had been wrong, which wasn't too bad for his current state. Cordel's voice sounded much louder than usual, and he almost scrunched up his face beneath the covers. He only stopped himself because the probability that the Healer would pull the covers away and expose his display of irritation was… well, it was high. The fact that it was taking him so long to calculate that probability was highly distressing.
He let Cordel have his little emotional meltdown and gave him an extra minute or so to compose himself before he said thickly, "I don't think I need to explain my current position to you, since there is nothing bizarre about it and it is adequately self explanatory. If you require me to calculate something for you I'm afraid it will have to wait. I am busy. Good day." He hoped that that had not sounded as pathetic as he thought it did.
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 9:56 pm
“Sounds more like you’re having a sharding awful day,” he pointed out with a slight snort.
After his little outburst, Cordel felt a bit guilty. Just a little! After all, W’ten was sick and you couldn’t expect sick folk to make the best decisions, especially regarding their health. That’s what Healers were for. Besides, mocking the sick was simply a low move, especially when they sounded as pathetic as W’ten did right now. And W’ten had only spoken a few sentences, instead of the usual flood of them. Cordel narrowed his eyes and stalked closer, sensing that this was a little more serious than K’em had thought.
“If I were an evil man, I’d probably take this opportunity to gloat a little about how even that tiny percentage was enough to make you ill,” he pointed out, almost to himself. “Luckily for you, I’m an ok one, so I’ll just leave it at that. Come on, W’ten. We’re getting you to the Infirmary.” He reached out to grab W’ten’s shoulder----or what he assumed the Brownrider’s shoulder was; since the man was hiding under his blankets like a little boy trying to hide from a monster, it was hard to say----but stopped just in time. Oh, yes, he could still remember those starebeams from the last time he had touched W’ten.
“Either that, or I’ll have to set up here. Your choice.” Either way, the man would be Cordel’s patient. It was just what Healers did. “It sounds like you’ve got a sore throat, not to mention you’re congested and you haven’t even named a particular percentage of, oh, I don’t know… me getting you out of here. You’re clearly very ill and I am not letting you go without help.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 10:17 pm
Idly, W'ten wondered if K'em's old trick of plugging his ears and repeating "la la la" actually helped you ignore someone. He remembered it being mildly irritating and extremely immature, but he couldn't remember how effective it had been. It took him several moments longer than usual to realize he was being childish (and thus illogical) and he mentally berated himself for that. Just because he was practically lowered to his roommate's level of intelligence did not mean he had to do as he did in a situation like this. He had to keep face, even if it meant suffering in silence.
The brownrider didn't have the heart to tell him that the percentage had been meant for K'em and not himself, but since he couldn't remember the number quickly enough he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut lest he further incriminate himself. Cordel seemed to enjoy being able to fill the silence that W'ten usually filled and who was he to deny the Healer his pleasures? Perhaps one day he would be purged of his emotions and see things W'ten's way. Then they would be eye to eye. The fact that he even thought something like that made the brownrider believe he was worse off than he'd originally thought.
He allowed Cordel's proposition to sink it, quietly weighing his options. "I am currently undecided," W'ten began, breaking off to cough softly, "As to which option will bring me the least discomfort. While the percentage is… low-" he winced at the vagueness of that word "-that K'em will attempt to play Healer again, I have no desire to be fussed over or hounded by people asking me the same questions. Your staff has poor communication skills and appears to enjoy sending different people to ask me similar questions. There is also a small detail, which I believe will not make my transport to the infirmary 3.44 times more difficult." There was a small pause before W'ten continued in an even quieter voice. "The likelihood of my legs being able to support the entirety of my body weight is less than 2.2 percent."
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 10:37 pm
Well, this marked a first. Cordel couldn’t remember a time when W’ten said the odds were ‘low’ instead of naming an exact percentage. That was just so general and non-specific! Anything less than exact would push the Brownrider towards honorable suicide. Possibly a slide-rule would be involved. “Well, most of the staff is still being trained. I’ve even got my own Apprentice now.” But this wasn’t the time to start talking about La and Isonth, no matter how pleased Cordel was with the girl’s progress as a dragonhealer. Now was the time to be a human Healer.
After a moment of thought and with a great deal of trepidation, Cordel went to explore K’em’s desk. It was, perhaps, the neatest surface on K’em’s side of the room, so it was easy for the Healer to find a scrap of hide and something to write with. He scrawled out a quick sign and went to put it on the weyr’s door: Do Not Disturb. If W’ten couldn’t make it to the Infirmary, then Cordel would just have to bring the Infirmary to him.
He pulled up a chair nearby the bed and sat down so he could talk to W’ten like a sane man. Because, for some reason, it seemed so much more sane to sit down by someone instead of standing up. Armed with a piece of hide and a writing implement, Cordel felt ready to figure out what was wrong with the Brownrider. “So, are you going to look at me, or continue to hide under the blankets? I’ll need to see you eventually. And tell me how long this has been going on and what is wrong.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 10:48 pm
W'ten would have made a snarky comment about how Cordel only kept untrained staff around to make himself look competent but he couldn't muster the brain power to do it in his usual verbose fashion. Instead, he tried to make a mental note to investigate this apprentice that Cordel had mysteriously acquired. He wanted to know exactly what kind of man or women would not only put up with the emotionally explosive Healer but actually attempt to learn something from him. It would have been a fascinating thought had his brain not felt like there was a dragon sitting on it.
The brownrider lay completely still while Cordel went about putting up his signs, quietly hoping that he had decided to just leave him alone. Of course, the odds of that were so small that he didn't even have to calculate them, and before long the Healer was back with a chair beside his bed. How quaint. No doubt he had found some hide to take notes on. It was mildly pleasing to know that Cordel could be professional when the occasion called for it. Perhaps he only liked flirting with patients that were younger than him. Another theory to test when he had more brain power.
"I am not hiding under the blankets," he replied with a hint of indignity. "I was attempting to go to sleep before you barged into the weyr. However if you intend to conduct your examination in here then all you needed to do was inform me of such." W'ten begrudgingly pulled the blanket down to chest level and blinked several times at Cordel. "5.3 days. Symptoms are as they appear. Your initial assessment was correct. You will have to be more specific with your questions. You know I dislike ambiguity."
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Posted: Wed Jul 01, 2009 11:03 pm
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your dignity? Amazing how attempting to suffocate yourself and hiding under blankets look so similar,” Cordel all but hissed back. Shards, even when W’ten was sick it was hard to put up with him! How unfortunate… perhaps in the back of his mind, Cordel was hoping that the two could finally set apart some of their differences and have a quaint little talk. Perhaps they could even share their various adventures in a vaguely comedic and touching manner! Yes. And maybe whers would fly. He reminded himself to at least pretend to behave; it wasn’t W’ten’s fault that he was insufferable. Besides, Cordel still felt guilty about letting his temper let him walk away from one patient in need. It wouldn’t do to let it happen again.
Shards, but W’ten looked awful. If one wanted to be polite, even healthy W’ten was ‘thin’. Sick W’ten was simply… well, Cordel thought the man looked rather like a self-propelled toast rack with eyes right about now. Very dull eyes, he noted as he leaned forward to get a better look. 5.3 days… math wasn’t the Healer’s strongest suit, but he thought that was a little over 128 hours, or around there. A few days after W’ten and K’em had gotten back from the storm, he decided. He made a careful note of this before speaking again.
“And what was the first symptom?” he asked, noting down the symptoms as he went. Fatigue, he was guessing, since it was highly irregular for W’ten to even consider sleeping unless it was dark out. Coughing, congestion, sore throat. Muscle weakness. Hmm… “You can still feel your legs, right? Are there any stomach problems of any kind? Did you eat anything foraged while you and K’em were in that storm?”
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 5:41 pm
Okay, Cordel was pushing his luck. Since when did Healers get off on insulting their patients while they were trying to help? Clearly he had underestimated Cordel's cynicism, as well as his emotional needs. No wonder he seemed to enjoy taking care of K'em. Still, W'ten was not about to let the Healer sass him, sick or not sick. It took more effort than he let on, but he slowly propped himself up on his elbows and raised his left eyebrow at Cordel. It wasn't quite the stare – that was hard to accomplish when your eyes were barely in focus – but the Left Eyebrow Raise was one of his favourites. Cordel needed to know he had put a toe out of line.
It seemed to work, as Cordel went back to his business and started asking the right questions. The brownrider was silently pleased with how fast he could become professional and ask clear questions. "I was fatigued after the storm, but it did not appear to anything more than that until I began working on a new statistical theory that one of the miners had come up with. I'm sure you haven't read it, but it was fascinating I assure you. After that, I experienced what I believe you write in your medical notes as a 'scratchy throat' and the symptoms of a common cold or flu." He had to stop then, taken over by a rather violent coughing fit. Kaieth crooned softly from his place on his stone bench.
W'ten gave a final cough to clear his throat and then turned his attention back to Cordel. "I believe the question was about my legs, correct? I can feel them. And as far as eating anything foraged, no. Only K'em would think it a survival tactic to eat unidentified greenery." It was irritating how much his voice was fading.
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 6:59 pm
Ok… even Cordel knew that the Left Eyebrow Raise meant, ‘if you don’t stop now, I will get severely sarcastic at you. I may even become sardonic’. And once that started, Cordel was certain to lose patience with the other man. And then he’d just feel guilty later. Right. It wasn’t even nice to take advantage of W’ten when he couldn’t really fight back, no matter how much Cordel wanted to debate.
It took the Healer a while to figure out what W’ten was talking about when the man started mentioning mining. The man really did read such things for fun… barely resisting the urge to snort, Cordel took notes. Right. So it started in the throat then and had spread from there. “Right. So no stomach problems?” he pressed, vaguely concerned that W’ten had either missed the question or didn’t want to answer it. Either way it was concerning. “Here. Drink some wa…” he paused there and looked around the room.
Well, shards. Didn’t they keep a jug of water somewhere? Cordel frowned at that before turning his attention back to the pitiful W’ten. “Well, I’ll get you some tea. The fact that it started in your throat means it’s probably a virus. Not a whole lot we can do about viruses, but the symptoms are manageable.”
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 8:24 pm
"Stomach problems? No, I don't believe so." Oh, right, he had not answered that question. That was what happened when Cordel asked too many questions in a row to a sick patient. Still, the fact that he had missed it earlier concerned him as much as it did Cordel, possibly even more so. The fact that he hadn't even been able to remember three questions when asked in sequence was a major problem. He really was worse off than he'd originally thought. Perhaps he should have allowed Cordel to cart him off to the Infirmary. …Actually, on second thought, that would have been beyond humiliating. It was better just to stay here and suffer in peace.
His elbows could only support him for so long, and W'ten sank back down again into his cot. For a moment he contemplated asking Cordel for some felis to knock him out for a while, but he could not remember the regulation dose off the top of his head. Not to mention he didn't think he could calculate the depth of a cup fast enough for his liking. Sigh. It looked like he was going to have to take whatever the Healer prescribed to him whether he liked it or not.
"Tea would be most satisfactory. I would suggest proper herbal remedies but I cannot seem to remember any at this moment…" He reached a hand up to rub his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from looking as displeased with himself as he thought he did. After a small pause, he asked, "What is K'em going to do? I do not believe it would be wise for him to continue to room with me while I am ill."
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2009 9:06 pm
No stomach problems. Well, that was a blessing, at least. And the quarantine was already set up too, so there was another plus. There was no question of moving W’ten now; it would only cause him undue distress and panic in the Weyr. Much better to leave him in a comfortable setting. “Yes, and since it’s so unwise, K’em is almost certain to do it unless I phrase things correctly,” Cordel muttered his agreement, picking up yet another piece of hide to scrawl a quick note to K’em.
It probably wasn’t the best note ever, as it merely confused things more.
[K’em:
Don’t bring someone to your weyr for sex tonight.
Go to my room instead
Just… stay away from your weyr. W’ten is very ill and needs to stay quarantined. Either use one of the ground-weyrs or my room for sleep.
-Cordel]
“Don’t worry, W’ten. I am a Healer. I think I’ll be able to figure out how to treat a cough. This may surprise you, but I am capable of running a practice for minutes at a time without your helpful advice,” Cordel sniffed as he finished his note. Whatever. He’d just leave it next to the door or something. “K’em will just have to stay in my room, or perhaps one of the ground weyrs for the time being. I’ll go get your tea.” And some soup later, he considered to himself. No one in this sharding Weyr could cook worth an eggshell, so it would clearly be up to Cordel to take care of W’ten.
The man slipped out of the weyr quietly, putting the note up on the door next to the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. He returned perhaps half an hour later with a tea kettle and some tea cups. Mint and sweetmallow, but no fellis; he didn’t have the authority for that, although he had tried to make a decent case for it. Well, at least the sweetmallow ought to have some soporific effect. That is, if W’ten wasn’t asleep already…
“Still awake?” he asked quietly, because of the man really was asleep, Cordel didn’t want to risk waking him up.
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Posted: Sat Jul 04, 2009 8:51 pm
"Clear and concise wording should be used as often as possible," W'ten retorted softly, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. Still, the brownrider trusted Cordel to get the point across to his roommate and he was sure K'em would be happy to oblige. He only hoped that the rider in question would actually read the sign on the door beside he assumed that W'ten had been whisked off to the infirmary and the room was his to bring his women in. K'em would certainly be in for a nasty surprise when W'ten coughed and broke the sexual atmosphere.
He snorted softly at Cordel's assertion that he was actually a good Healer. Of course he was. If he was incompetent W'ten would not have trusted him with his well-being and K'em's well-being on multiple occasions. Just because he didn't come right out and say 'thank you Cordel you're a wonderful person' didn't mean he didn't acknowledge the fact that the Healer was actually good at what he did. If Cordel wasn't so focused on making himself an emotional bombshell and worked a little in the mental realms he would clearly see the logic in W'ten's behaviour. Until then, W'ten expected he would complain about how ungrateful he was and the brownrider would tell Cordel that he was wasn't making good use of his brain. It was not the best solution to a problem but it was currently the only one.
The brownrider heard the Healer return, however he kept his eyes closed when he responded, "I am awake, but my level of alertness is quite low and my ability to function at even substandard levels is impaired." He would have said he was not functioning at one hundred percent but he did not need Cordel to tell him that being sick did that automatically. Not to mention he'd already chastised the Healer on his insistence on using ambiguous language. W'ten lived by his own standards, after all.
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Posted: Sun Jul 05, 2009 5:28 pm
Well, that sealed it. If W’ten ever used clear and concise language around Cordel, the Healer decided he would boil up the man’s boots and eat them himself. It was practically a trademark of W’ten’s to use seventy plus words when five would do. Still, now was hardly a time to get into an argument about syntax and word usage. There was no fun in arguing with someone who could hardly articulate his thoughts. Judging by the amount of words W’ten used to say, ‘I don’t feel well’, Cordel’s diet wasn’t in any danger of changing.
“In other words, you feel sick. Which is perfectly normal for someone who is, in fact, sick.” Actually it was a bit of a relief that W’ten was still speaking like Mr. I-love-logic-and-words. It meant he was still himself. Cordel put the tea down on the table and prepared a cup for W’ten. “Good. Sit up; I’ve got you some tea. It’ll help with the aches a bit and get you some sleep. I’ll bring you some soup in a bit.”
And by ‘a bit’, what Cordel really meant was ‘after you’ve had a good long nap’. And, since no one in this Weyr could cook worth a shard, the Healer figured he’d handle that part too. If the so-called ‘cooks’ of Ista couldn’t even handle bread without charring it beyond recognition, then Cordel certainly wasn’t going to leave soup in their hands. Cordel offered W’ten the tea, wondering if the man would even manage to sit up without help.
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2009 5:53 pm
The day W'ten ever shortened his replies to fewer words than he thought necessary would be the day K'em and Cordel kindly shifted him off to the Mindhealer to give him a thorough check up. Some may have believed that he should be a Harper what with all his wordiness but the brownrider thoroughly detested the very idea. There was a very distinct difference between being an intellectual and just having a "way with words." He would sooner eat his boots than teach a bunch of ungrateful wretches who had no interest in learning and only wanted to see how far they could stick their finger up their nose. Clearly fate had made sure that W'ten was not a Harper.
"An accurate observation, Healer." He was not entirely surprised at Cordel's words, however he was definitely not up to the task of mentally taking the Healer down. It was a pity, really, and he did not like admitting to himself that he had dropped several notches on the intelligence scale, but it was a minor setback. Soon he would be healthy enough again to regain his place. Unfortunately, he did need Cordel's help to make it there, and so it was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut.
At the command he opened his eyes and made to sit himself up. His arms, however, had other ideas, and he did not make it very far. After several seconds of contemplation, W'ten decided that asking for help was the logical course of action. "If you are not adverse to the idea, I believe I will require some assistance to sit up." He attempted to give Cordel his best thinly veiled "make it quick" look, but he doubted it would have any effect on the Healer. Cordel seemed to like handling him despite the fact that he knew W'ten didn't like it. "May I inquire after the ingredients in the tea?"
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