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 Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 5:46 pm
The day had been long and weary on the feet. And it had been a bit hot, too, and sticky, despite being deep in the Weyr and untouched by sunlight. Heat always found its way through cracks and crevices as long as there was a group of bodies to disturb and annoy.
But Molliadne kept up her happy, cheerful face and just clipped back her hair and some of its slightly damp bits. Absentmindedly wiping her hands on her apron, she bustled back down the row of beds and gave some happy little nod to those who were awake, and then straightened anything that looked off. There really wasn't much to do when after the evening started to set in -- or well, she could only assume it was evening. Weyrlings and Candidates and Riders and anyone else all just fell into a sleepy lull and no one was about and breaking things. ...Which was a good thing, of course, but it certainly lead to sl--
Ah!
The Healer shook her head and pursed her lips, her thin brows furrowing as she quickly scolded herself for almost saying it -- one NEVER said the word "Slow" in any Healers area, because as soon as they did, all hell usually broke loose.
Hopefully she had cut off enough of the word.
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Posted: Wed Sep 30, 2009 7:08 pm
Aaah, humidity; it was just the gift that kept on giving. Sure, he'd gotten used to it by now and, by all rights, anything born in the thick of such weather should had have no problem with it... but Tolo had never cared for that kind of logic, and any excuse to whine was worth taking in his book.
Two hours. That was how long Chavel had spent attempting to train his dearest trio of firelizards, and one very fussy, petulant bronze wouldn't have any of it. At every opportunity, he'd squeaked, hissed, ignored commands, nipped fingers and wormed into robes, FINALLY meeting his bonded's patience and flashing between with one last bite on his bonded's earlobe to go sulk.
... Not that he'd be gone too terribly long, the mindhealer knew, well aware that his favorite little ball of trouble couldn't "punish" him for that long. Until then, though, he'd taken Pavo (who'd finally graduated out of any wound dressings, despite some obvious scars to be) and the tranquil Sig on his shoulder (... yes, just one; they seemed to like sharing) and decided to go for a little Weyr roundabout. For exercise's sake, both mental and physical.
(Besides, it couldn't hurt to just check in at the infirmary and make sure Pavo was out of the woods, right?)
"Hello?" Like any proper weyrgent, he gave the door a good light rap before letting himself in and peering about. Ah! Looked like someone was in, too; what luck! "Dear me, am I interrupting a ritual of some sort here?..."
... Nope, she hadn't cut off enough of the word after all.
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