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 Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 10:11 pm
Cordel’s pride was definitely inflating under all of this praise, he had to admit. Actually, he didn’t admit anything. He just got a brief moment to feel extraordinarily proud of himself. The Healer allowed himself feelings of a job-well-done, but rarely actual pride. Well, unless Healer Pruitt got all uppity. “Weell… I’m certain that the Healers at Igen are a fine bunch,” he said, sounding not certain at all about such a thing. Honestly, if every rider around L’ior’s age----the man looked to be in his early thirties at the latest---then how good could they really be? It wasn’t even as if riders faced much danger right now, beyond the very basics.
“It’s my job. If I didn’t do it, someone else would and they wouldn’t do as good a job as I do.” Coming from anyone else, it would have made Cordel sound like a pompous jerk. Actually, it sort of did. Ok, it really did. It wasn’t just fueled by ego, though. There was some fact backing it up. He simply knew he was good and wasn’t willing to let someone else handle a dangerous animal like a wher. “Oh. Yes. Technically, my main position is as a dragonhealer,” he explained, realizing this was a bit of information that L’ior probably could have done with a while ago. “But, I took up a second specialty to keep me busy. Besides, it’s not like the wher really meant to hurt me. He was hurt and scared.”
“Chirrup!” Tribble dropped the food suddenly at the man’s answering chirp. Immediately, she sidled back towards the Bluerider, amazingly curious about why this man kept making flit noises. Clearly, he had to be hiding one somewhere, right? Riiiiight? As L’ior didn’t make any moves towards her----in fact, the man’s hands were taken up by tea----Tribble felt bold enough to get a little closer, close enough to sniff at his clothes in the hopes of sniffing out another firelizard. “Chrrrp!” And then the green tilted her head to one side, hoping to get an answering call.
Now Cordel was a little off-balance. His mind was… well, he fancied that it was a fairly good one, but only now did he really think about what was being said. Someone was complimenting him a lot? Check. Someone was commenting on his skills as a Healer? Check. Someone was offering him dinner? Check.
…
Was L’ior actually flirting with him? The only person who had ever flirted with Cordel---excepting Caysine---was K’em, who really didn’t mean it. Well… it wasn’t like L’ior was an unattractive man. And it wasn’t like Cordel couldn’t admire a good-looking man either. “Yes,” he said carefully. “Perhaps we should trade recipes sometime. With Dioth, it’d be easy.”
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Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 11:15 pm
"Well, and they don't have much sympathy, as far as I've heard," chuckled L'ior sheepishly. "Though I suppose they do their job well enough, as we do not lose people to nail accidents and the like. At least, not that I have heard of, and as oblivious as I can be on occasion, I think I'd be aware of something like that."
Swirling the brewing tea about in the cup gently, careful not to spill it over the edge and scald his hands with the very-hot water, L'ior found his brow escalating slowly towards his hairline at the simple, matter-of-fact statement that Cordel was clearly better than any other healer. To have pride in your skills was good, but arrogance never got anyone anywhere, except for the very lucky or the very ruthless -- oh. "Ah!" came the half-exclamation, on the heels of a near relieved little chuckle. "A dragonhealer would indeed be the best person for the job, in that case... You must have had to study quite a lot, then. I don't think I could have fit that much information in without losing some out the other ear..."
Peering down at the little green snuffling at his clothes for the 'missing' flit, L'ior fell quiet for a long moment, a pleased grin curving his lips. He turned his head carefully, and then offered a tiny, delicate questioning 'peep', to keep Tribble curious, before looking back up at Cordel with a surprised, happy expression.
He had been hoping for that, after all. The Healer seemed to be interesting, and he hadn't shooed L'ior off with an apron, a wooden spoon, or in this case, a scalpel -- at least not yet. Besides that, he'd treated L'ior's battle wound, small as it was, and the rider's gratefulness and the pleasantness of the other's company made L'ior find him rather attractive even if he hadn't been before. And, well, he was, even though the bluerider hadn't been intending to flirt... much. "I'd like that very much," said L'ior blithely, flashing a smile. "Though I wouldn't want to trouble you overmuch."
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Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 11:57 pm
“What about curiously localized sandstorm injuries? Do you ever lose people to something like that?” There was no way Cordel could keep himself from asking that question. “Or shaving accidents, perhaps?”
Hmm… had he actually met anyone from Igen during his brief stay at Healer Hall? Cordel couldn’t recall, mostly because he treated his stop at Healer Hall as a stepping stone rather than an actual event. It was just something that happened. Oh, sure, he had passed his exams and walked the tables, but the fact remained: he had been there for one reason and it wasn’t to socialize. Now he wished he had taken the opportunity to. “Yes. Being any type of Healer means studying constantly. Some of the glass you delivered today is part of a system I’m trying to test, actually.”
By now, he was pretty certain he knew what he had done wrong last time. He watched with some amusement as Tribble fought to find the missing firelizard, nearly laughing at the sheer confusion that writhed in her little flit-mind. At the peep, Tribble went, ‘Chirrp!’ and continued to explore, now certain that there was something here. There had to be, right? She hesitated just a moment before delicately putting her paws on L’ior’s arm and starting to climb up. Very, very slowly, because she wasn’t certain what he would do.
Nor, for that matter, was Cordel. “Err… I can go on and take her away, if you’d like. She’s very gentle and has never bitten anyone.” That’s right, Cordel. When confused about flirting with someone, take refuge in the obvious: that Tribble could only be a danger to herself and possibly very small balls of lint. “Do you have a fire… no, you said you didn’t have one, right? Just that they tend to like you?”
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 12:31 am
"On occasion," said L'ior, and made an attempt to feign an appropriately mourning look to carry the joke, then settling on a straight face, though it was an unsteady one that twitched ominously at the edges and threatened to buckle into full-blown laughter. "It's always a terribly sad event, but then it does lead to interesting tales." The false sobriety broke, and L'ior chuckled, a mellow little sound. "Then again, I do not think that the sandstorm that assaulted me had a chance at offing me, so they must be much, much worse, yes?"
Transferring the cooling cup to the other hand very, very carefully, L'ior gave a little ahem to clear his throat. "You're a cleverer man than I, though I suppose it takes all sorts to run a Weyr. About all I could figure you might use them for is to hold herbs. Though I suppose blood and such would also be good to put inside, as well... Which is probably closer to their original purpose, hm?" He pondered over it for a moment as he watched the little creature begin to climb his arm, and found himself rather pleased that she'd warmed so fast to him.
"No, no -- it's all right, unless you'd prefer to," L'ior said, looking back up to Cordel and shrugging one shoulder, not wanting to disturb the flit. "I'm not afraid. She didn't even savage the meatroll, so I don't fear for my life, though I probably should." His voice held an edge of gentle teasing, though who it was directed at was a mystery. "While I do like them, no, I regret I lack one of my own. They're pleasant to have around, but a bit hard to come by."
Very very softly, almost innocently, the rider gave another little mimic-noise, and then turned his head away to taste the tea cautiously without disturbing his little visitor's cautious explorations. At the flavor of the liquid, his nose wrinkled a bit -- it tasted, he thought, rather a lot like it had smelled. "If this wasn't intended to be medicine, I'd ask for a sweet to chase it with..."
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 1:12 am
“It does indeed sound very sad. Of all the ways to lose someone, a strangely limited natural disaster sounds like the worst.” Well, actually, the very, very worst Cordel could come up with involved a parasite getting into the brain and eating away at it, bit by bit. But that was probably because this was Ista and not Igen. “And you got attacked by a single nailstorm, not a sandstorm. Really, a nailstorm sounds much worse, doesn’t it? Or you could always try to impress people and claim that you only shave with rusty nails.”
Again, Cordel couldn’t help but puff up a little at the other man’s comments. Why, yes; he was a very clever man and it was good to hear someone else acknowledge it for once, especially since W’ten seemed to devote his days to thinking up ways to try and make Cordel seem like a deadglow. Of course, these schemes always failed. “You’re actually very close. Parasites are a big problem in Ista, especially if someone decides to drink some untreated water. And some of them are really troublesome to get rid of. The big problem happens if they get into a place that can’t be easily treated. My idea is basically to try and bring some medicine to them.”
Well… Tribble seemed comfortable enough, so Cordel would allow her to stay. It was always good for her to interact with other people. By now, Tribble was starting to expect the firelizard noises and responded to them eagerly. Aha! Now she knew it! With a triumphant little squeak, she skittered up to L’ior’s shoulder and poked her nose down his collar. Clearly, clearly, there had to be a firelizard there. The noise came from this direction and she knew from personal experience that she liked hiding down Cordel’s shirt.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bitter stuff,” Cordel said with a hint of an apology in his tone. Body language spoke volumes though, especially his shrug. “I could add some mint. It certainly wouldn’t hurt. Oh, but try not to drink any alcohol for a while after drinking the tea.”
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 5:26 am
"A nailstorm? A spontaneous event in which a nail appears from between in order to wound an unsuspecting passerby?" Amused, L'ior couldn't help imagining it, arching his dark brows and laughing. "Perhaps I shall try the second excuse. Am I that manly, that anyone would believe I could use a nail to shave?" His fingers rose, scratched at his chin a bit speculatively as he contemplated another drink of tea, not relishing the prospect.
At the thought of parasites, though, his nose wrinkled and he looked up from pondering the surface of his tea. "Well, and that makes sense... if you're trying to kill a stinging insect, you wouldn't step on the ground around it, would you? You'd try to step on it directly." Logically, the solution made sense to the rider, who tended to be a bit straightforward. "Though I can't imagine why they'd drink water that was untreated, knowing it might have the crawlies in it in the first place." L'ior certainly wouldn't, though he imagined he'd certainly been thirsty enough to want to. Igen's desert clime had a way of leeching every bit of moisture out of you and then some.
His thoughts were interrupted, despite himself, when the lizard poked her nose under the collar of his shirt, evoking a pleased little laugh from L'ior. It was almost saddening, however, to remember that he didn't actually have a flit for the little green to play with. And as much as he liked the little beasts, he'd never had one down his shirt before. But as much as it was new, he couldn't help encouraging her one more time with another little meeping sound that petered into a laugh as his free hand brought the cup to his lips once more, sweetening the bitterness with his own laughter, blue eyes all but twinkling with it.
"Perhaps the mint would help a bit," conceded L'ior as he put the cup down again, making a face like a child would at having to down such a bitter cup. "What would the alcohol do, though? Just out of curiosity. I'm not very good at holding the stuff even if I didn't have this in my belly, but with it, well..." He let the sentence trail off ruefully. When tipsy, L'ior had the unfortunate tendency to get rather... cuddly. With strangers and friends alike, which could occasionally get the already-friendly rider into trouble. It was a good thing he lacked it now, that was certain.
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 10:27 am
“It’s one of the lesser known risks of between.” Yes. So ‘lesser-known’ that it didn’t really exist, but Cordel could believe that something similarly awful existed in that black void. Or something terrible, anyway. Just about anything could be there. Hm… was L’ior manly enough to get away with such a claim? Probably not, actually. Cordel’s knowledge of the world sort of petered out beyond diseases, but he had heard stories of just how tough Igen riders were. They had to be tough. The desert hammered people. Their only hope of survival was to hammer right back.
He shrugged in response to the comment on people drinking clean water. “Oh, I send out warnings to people not to do something so stupid. Every time someone comes in with a parasite infection, I’m tempted to just let them suffer under the weight of their own idiocy. Mostly, they just think it can’t happen to them or they just don’t really think about things. Like, after boiling water very, very carefully, they’ll go ahead and eat an uncooked fish. Or not cook it thoroughly enough.” Not that he ever would refuse to treat someone; that would simply be cruel. He’d simply continue to threaten, perhaps in a much louder voice.
“Chirrip!” Tribble responded happily, now absolutely certain that there was a firelizard here somewhere. But, perhaps it was a very, very shy one? Even shier than her? Oh happy day! She would convince this firelizard to come out if it was the last thing she did. Now, how to lure the poor thing out? Backing up, she chirped again and went back to the table for a moment. After a bit of thought, she knew exactly what to do. Gliding down to the floor, she picked up the almost-forgotten bit of meat roll she had been so happily eating not too long ago. Fluttering back up to L’ior’s shoulder, she held the offering gingerly and chirped again. Maybe this would help?
“The alcohol would just make you sick, most likely. Most people who drink mosstea and then alcohol end up throwing up which rather defeats the purpose of the tea in the first place.” Mint, mint, mint… again the Healer trundled off to look through the apparently unlimited number of jars in the room. He happened to miss Tribble’s little performance, sadly. “How much mint do you like?”
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 3:19 pm
"Of course," said L'ior, nodding as if it was a foregone conclusion. "You'll have to look out for similar injuries now, you know. And I shall inform the Igen healers to be on the lookout for stray nailstorms, as well." The idea rather tickled him, but admittedly that didn't change the reality that he had, when all was said and done, simply managed to fling a nail at high-speed at his own face due to his own lack of thinking the situation over. Nobody who knew him would have been surprised at that, at least.
After a moment, though, a little sound of dismay escaped L'ior, and he turned his eyes up to Cordel, brows furrowing. "Why would someone eat an uncooked fish? I don't think I could be that hungry... but then again, I haven't had the chance to cook much fish. There are not many of them in the desert, after all, so what the kitchen does get they tend to be rather tightfisted over..." After a moment, the rider seemed to realize he'd been rambling a bit, and laughed sheepishly. "If anything, though, I imagine there is nothing pleasant about the treatment, so it ought to teach them a lesson, right?"
Rather touched by the little lizard's antics, L'ior's expression softened. "Ahaha... I feel a bit guilty making her think there's a flit on me somewhere." Very carefully, he lifted one hand, wiggling a callused fingertip at the little Green and smiling sheepishly. "Forgive me, little Tribble, it was not done in malice..." He turned his head very carefully to look down at the little chirpy creature, dark blue gaze gentle. "Though it is nice to see you a little less frightened of me."
Though his visual focus was on the fire lizard, he responded to the question with a hopeful sound. "Hm... Well, I do like the taste of mint, so as much as you think might help the taste...? I'm sure you've more experience with it than I do, so I'll trust your judgment?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 4:57 pm
“This could very well be the start of an epidemic. Or a pandemic, if it’s already at Igen. Hopefully it’s not contagious, otherwise it’ll just tear through this Weyr like a tunnelsnake through a flit nest.” The recent transfers to Igen had helped a little, admittedly. Mostly, they helped the trade relations between Igen and Ista Weyr, but they also helped alleviate some of the overcrowding. Even a little breathing room was welcome right about now. “Is Igen Weyr really different from Ista? I mean, besides the weather. I’ve been hearing some… interesting things…”
More like ‘unsettling’, actually. Cordel was Weyrbred through and through and some of the things out of Igen Weyr were downright creepy or at the very least Significant Pause brand ‘interesting’ which basically meant the same thing. “Oh, the fish thing. It’s pretty common for some people. They really like the taste. Either that or, on occasion, there are just some kids who want to prove how tough and dangerous they are by courting infection. In my day, we just poked whers. How time moves.”
Tribble remained hopeful for several moments, her tail flicking back and forth and her eyes swirling with green and blue. But, as no more answers came, a feeling began trickling into her skulls. The flit was a lie! There was no flit! “Nurrm!” she said, dropping the meatroll down L’ior’s shirt. That was probably just because she was startled and not out of any desire to feed the ‘hidden firelizard’.
But, who knows? It could have been. She eyed the raised fingers anxiously before deciding that they probably wouldn’t dismember her or something. Hesitantly, she sniffed the fingers before nudging her head against them. Pet time now? Yes?
“Oh, is she playing the guilt-trip game now? She’s very good at that,” Cordel said helpfully, measuring out some dried mint leaves. Well, mosstea had a very… distinct flavor, one that L’ior apparently didn’t like. And dried herbs weren’t as effective as fresh herbs so… he measured out a large amount and offered it to L’ior, only then noticing what Tribble was up to. “It does her good to socialize with other people. Normally, she’s busy being menaced by Menalia. That’s one of my Apprentice’s firelizards. Very handsome but boisterous Bronze.”
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 5:40 pm
"It would do the world good to begin working on a cure for it, as soon as is possible," chortled L'ior, deeply amused with the thought, and letting it run away with him. "One never knows how fast these things can simply take over, you know. Before you know it, you'll find yourself up to your ears in riders with nails lodged in unpleasant portions of their anatomy, and you'll have to call for more glassware to contain and study these spontaneously-generating nails." He thought for a moment, then rolled his eyes a bit, shrugging and grinning. "You could make a mark or two selling them to the people doing shipping, though, I'd imagine."
When asked about the differences between Ista and Igen, however, the rider had to pause, thinking about it for a long moment. "Hm... Well, I think it probably is quite different," he responded, ponderingly. "I have not spent much time here, so I would not claim to know much of how Ista functions, and have not had the opportunity to talk to the transfers much... but yes, I suppose the Candidates act differently, and I don't think the families of bronzeriders hold as much sway here as they do back home." He stretched his legs out, giving a low hum as he absorbed the information about the fish as well, and let his mood be canted back upward. "When I was younger, if we wanted to prove our toughness, we would volunteer to help out on raids and the like. For flit eggs. Often enough that ended badly."
The lukewarm meatroll being dropped down his shirt made L'ior make a little face, but he chuckled gently as the little green head poked against his fingers. Rather gently, he began to run the callused fingertip against the little green's head, mimicking the motions he'd use on Dioth's great head but on a much smaller scale, rubbing gently. "She does seem to be good at it," he admitted, "though I suppose such a shy creature's got to have some way of influencing others. She's quite pleasant it seems, though, when she's not being terrified."
Freeing one hand, he accepted the mint, and adding it to the tea, he swirled it about, encouraging it to flavor the remainder of the liquid before tasting it again, and finding it a bit more palatable. "Admittedly, I wondered for a moment if your shoulder had grown eyes, when I first noticed her there, under your clothing," teased L'ior with a merry chuckle.
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 6:02 pm
Cordel opened his mouth. Cordel closed his mouth. Cordel looked extremely thoughtful as he considered the possibility of a nail epidemic. He wouldn’t admit it to someone he barely knew----even a person as personable as L’ior----but K’em was a walking disaster area. If anyone could find an actual nailstorm between, it would be K’em. The Wingsecond could find disaster in a very small padded room. Mostly, the disaster was himself. “You know, I should look into that,” he said slowly, trying not to worry about this possibility too much. Alright, so if K’em got lockjaw, it would be a lot quieter. Dead quiet.
He shoved the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind and focused on L’ior’s words, which painted a very odd scene. Of course, everyone knew that all dragonriders were to be respected. That went for everyone everywhere. “There’s one particular Bronzerider known as ‘Soupcrotch’,” Cordel said. “I haven’t met the young man personally. Apparently, he avoids the Infirmary. Can’t imagine why. But that alone should tell you how Ista feels about Bronzeriders. They’re more or less like everyone else unless they get a better rank. And that seems pretty… strange too. We have a Green Wingleader.” His tone was a cross between puzzled and proud, as if he himself wasn’t sure how he ought to feel about this. “Wait, raiding for firelizard eggs? That can’t be that dangerous. I’ve taken a few walks on the beach out here and there’s nothing more dangerous than uncooked fish and unclean water. And those tend to be self-inflicted.”
And that did the trick for Tribble. “Prrrip!” the green firelizard let out a surprised and pleased noise at the pets and cuddled closer to L’ior’s hand. The ‘prrrping’ sounds continued, making a sound like a very, very tiny and very, very harmless Feline. Quite unknown to the world at large, until now. Closing her eyes, Tribble settled down on L’ior’s shoulder, perfectly happy to take a nap. Or pretend to nap.
“Yes, she’s very sweet. I’m very lucky to have her. She doesn’t want a whole lot out of life. Give her some pets and she’s happy.” He arched an eyebrow at the shoulder-eyes comment and he had to peek under his shirt just a little. “Noo… no eyes yet. I’ll be sure to keep you updated. Could be another epidemic.”
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 12:29 am
"It's a good thing the first case occurred right here in your very own Weyr, though," said L'ior with a smile that was intended to be reassuring. "This means you've got a good chance at stopping it with me and a relatively minor problem, hm?" He was not at all sure where the compulsion came from to comfort the other, but he'd handled it with as much tact as anyone ever managed to pry from the blithe bluerider.
"Soupcrotch? Hah! There's few would dare call a bronzerider such a thing at Igen," L'ior said with a sheepish chuckle, "not if they intended to avoid a rather serious fight and consequences beyond that... they've thoroughly dominated the rest of us, honestly. Someone like myself, for all I've Dioth behind me -- which is as much a force as I could ever want -- still gets very little respect, and I've no real opportunity to be more than a wingrider. Also, as much as I don't mind running errands and deliveries," L'ior said thoughtfully, "I suppose it's a job that people hand off to someone lower than themselves since they cannot be bothered." While admittedly L'ior was not much for power himself, he supposed he could understand why other riders might find themselves chafing under such restraints. He was contented enough. "A green Wingleader simply would not happen there, though. And if the rider was a female, well... she'd be lucky enough to be allowed into one of the bronzes' wings. Not by me, of course!"
Hastily, he waved one hand as if to disarm, sheepishly smiling. "And as far as raiding for eggs, well, even the Candidates have divided up, and staked out territory. One of the gangs has marked the place where most of the wild flits tend to lay as their own... and we used to go and steal a few on occasion to try and turn a profit. But if you were caught, it was never a pretty sight. I'm sure they still do, but..." Wrinkling his nose, L'ior sighed, and continued to gently rub Tribble's head in petting motions as the flit settled in. The sweet little sounds brought a fresh smile to his features despite the surprisingly sober words, given the general state of cheery levity that seemed to follow the bluerider. "There are a lot of things you have to watch yourself with, there. It's a bit refreshing to get out and spend time here, among people who seem to be a bit more... I suppose relaxed is the word? Or maybe sane? It can be exhausting."
Aware of the heavy subject material, L'ior seemed to make a conscious effort to brighten, chuckling and taking a deep swallow of tea. "I shall expect a report next time I come to visit, you know. On the progress of your treatments for both nailstorms and shoulder-eyes... and also, on this little one." He turned his gaze to the napping flit draped over his shoulder with gentleness, before looking back up at Cordel with a little chuckle. "I'm terribly nosy, after all."
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 11:19 am
“Yees. Hopefully, you are the first and only case that will occur in this Weyr. If it’s contagious, we don’t stand a chance.” Mentally, he made a note to either prevent K’em from opening nailed-down crates or at least be present when he did. With K’em’s luck, all the nails would hit him, then he’d lose grip on the bar and smack himself in the face. Well, maybe not the face, but certainly the shoulder or something.
Cordel’s confusion only grew at the explanations of what Igen life was like. Well… that was certainly different from High Reaches and very different from Ista. Ista was practically a tropical paradise compared to that! Oh. Wait. It really was a tropical paradise. Especially when compared to the sandy doom that was Igen. “Too much sun. It sounds like everyone’s got too much sun. At least you get to travel to less insane places while making deliveries. And, yes, the Greenrider in question is female. That sort of thing never happened at High Reaches either.”
Hm… admittedly, the entire affair had been a sort of mistake. K’em had raged about it, which was a rarity in and of itself. K’em never raged, except over the F’sey incident.
“Gangs of Candidates.” Cordel repeated the words dully. “As in, groups of people who go around and try to beat other groups up. That is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard o… well, second. Maybe third most. But it’s definitely in the top ten. Well, top twenty anyway. The Candidatemaster here would come down like a ton of rock on anyone who tried that sort of thing here. Honestly, they ought to be focused on studying rather than thinking of ways to make themselves look like deadglows left in the sun too long.”
Igen wasn’t a tough place. It was sharding insane. The desert hadn’t sharpened the people. It had merely broken them.
“And I expect to get some recipes the next time you visit. Consider it a trade.”
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 2:06 pm
"I shall wish you good luck with it -- you don't need another plague here." A little chuckle escaped him, and a one-armed shrug. L'ior had not yet met anyone quite so hapless as himself, though admittedly that didn't mean that someone like that didn't exist. "Since I had heard there was a sickness here before..."
And he would have braved that sickness if it had gotten him out of the Weyr for awhile, as usual. A sheepish chuckle escaped the rider, and he looked at Cordel with a small, bemused expression. "You may be right about that. It is a harsh place, both in weather and the people who live there. I don't mind it so much, though." He sipped at his tea, and swirled it in the cup again, the pad of his thumb brushing along the rim absently. He'd a tendency to busy his hands with something when he was holding it. "It is where I Impressed Dioth, which means I'm grateful for them, but you're right. It's worth the effort in delivering to visit places like this, and meet people who've got more level heads on them."
A little laugh escaped L'ior, and he smiled. "You've given me hope I may not be the one that's crazy. At least," he amended, "mostly. I did get pulled into the whole gang thing... but that was mostly because my friends went as well, and we didn't do anything very reprehensible. I didn't beat anyone up. Probably, I couldn't have anyway." He peered down at his own arm absently -- nowadays, it was pretty sturdy, lean with muscle, simply from going about his day-to-day jobs, but it had once been a bit soft and pudgy. "We did study hard, though. It's not to say that's all we did, after all."
The mention of recipes in trade for reports was pleasing enough to L'ior -- it seemed that Cordel was comfortable with the idea that the rider would be back, which made him relax a little, tension he hadn't known in his shoulders seeming to fade a bit. "I won't forget. Recipes and lunch, if it'll ride all right between," he chuckled, "and you can indulge me with conversation and reports. Sounds like a fair trade to me."
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 4:21 pm
Cordel waved one hand vaguely. “It wasn’t much of a sickness, actually. The stories exaggerated it. A lot. It was a simple flu outbreak, which anyone with half a brain could have seen coming considering the crowding situation here. Some people did faint, but that was mostly just dehydration and heat stroke from what I understand. I transferred here right around that time.”
Despite the fact that he was routinely defeated by either women armed with wooden spoons or a girl several years his junior waving around a broom, Cordel liked to think of himself as tough. Well, so long as he wasn’t too far above the ground. Or about to go between. Or had just returned from between. The point was, even he wouldn’t step into Igen unless he could absolutely help it. The place sounded more and more like some sort of sinkhole for human idiocy. And, as everyone knew, that was a pretty deep well. “Sounds like you want to travel really far then.”
Probably as far as possible from Igen, actually. Or the nearest Infirmary.
“The ground state of humans in general is some sort of insanity, I’m afraid. Most of the injuries I see are self-inflicted and… uhh… people can be very creative about them.” Really, a nail to the face was completely normal compared to what some people could come up with in their free time. And that didn’t even touch on the Healers themselves who were, if anything, worse.
“I suppose that’s not amazingly different from here,” he admitted grudgingly. “Kids will always form groups that hate other groups for some reason or another. Only at Igen they’ve put a name to it. Still seems insane, trying to keep a female Greenrider out of the Wings…” Maybe it seemed particularly insulting because one of his Apprentices was a female Greenrider. Actually, he would happily jump at a chance to keep her grounded, if only because her skills were needed on the ground. But that was different.
“I’ll look forward to that, L’ior. It’s nice to actually talk to someone.” Cordel’s smile was brief, but it had been there. “And it’ll be nice to get some new recipes and hear the news from Igen, even if it is crazier than a horse faced with a tunnelsnake.”
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