'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.
Note: Special thanks to K'ael for piloting the NPC and giving Iro a boot up the backside! ;)
Ista Weyr - Infirmary
Equipped with the latest healing technologies, this spotlessly clean, large room smells slightly of antiseptic and numbweed. At one end, cots sit for the recovering to recover on. At the other end, are the proceedure tables. Cabinets with supplies and medical files sit along one wall. At any given moment, there could be any number of people in here. A weyrchild with a broken arm, a mother recovering from giving birth or even one of the residents recovering from heat stroke or sun poisoning, a rider and dragon recovering from a strained wing muscle.
With all the fires at Western even some of the Istan swarm has been called in for assistance. The search and rescue riders were normally in charge of firefighting, but even some of the transport wing were called in to help carry the water needed. And they were not without casualties! While none seemed to be life threatening, the best of the dragonhealers were sent out to the weyrs affected. And that's why crazy C'id is here, rider of green Bunansath. Sure he was a bit eccentric, but it was widely (maybe) known that he was quite apt in treating dragons. Even if he spent most of his time working on salves and studying various pathogens under a microscope. Right now he's treating a rather angry looking brown Galbranth, whose rider is currently someplace in the ward also undergoing treatment. There's so much hustle and bustle that there doesn't seem to be anyone giving C'id a hand as he mends a wing with burns, talking to himself mostly. Or perhaps to his green. "Mm. No point in grafting these areas, not that serious. Yes… yes…"
Lurking. Almost always on the fringes, tucked up somewhere where she won't get in the way, just watching. That's Iroha's usual place when she's visiting the infirmary, inbetween her normal chores, official and non. So it's with rather hesitant steps that the barefoot teen approaches the muttering, assistantless C'id. Hovering for a moment, though that might be more because of the angry brown. Those dragons she's chanced to 'meet' in her time at Ista are on the majority ones with personalities that make the girl wary of approaching one without permission. Finally, "Excuse me? Can… I mean… do you need any help?"
Poor little Iro! And she's happened upon a crazy, of course. Which tends to be her luck. Thankfully no one seems to notice her… which might be quite annoying when she asks if she can help, really. The healer finally flops himself on a wheelable, foldable gurney that's half up half down and then wheels himself under the dragon's wing like a mechanic under a car. "Scalpel!" He calls out, holding his hand out. Either he's accepting Iroha's offer, or he's assumed there was someone there to assist him all along. Either way, his tray of instruments was right there. "Quickly please!"
Truthfully, Iroha rather expected to be dismissed. So when there was no immediate answer forthcoming, a somewhat crestfallen but unsurprised expression crossed her face. Of course not. But, since she's being ignored and no one's shouting at her to get out of the way, her curiousity keeps her from turning away. If he's not going to notice, then maybe she can just- and there's the surprise! Followed hard by panic, as she looks around for someone who's actually allowed to be there. No one. But she's been reading, and if she's only passing over tools, well… that shouldn't hurt. Should it? Jumping forward, she scans the tray, fingers dancing in the air over the instruments. Where where where? There! Scalpel grabbed - carefully! - and handle placed in C'id's outstretched palm.
C'id accepts the scalpel. It's likely he has no idea who Iro is, that she is or isn't a healer. Though why should he care? His own green looks half asleep, barely paying attention herself it would seem. "Hmm, yes. Remove the scar tissue, keep the wings flexible. The blue bottle please!" The scalpel is being handed back now, and the blue spray bottle being asked for, likely to clean the wound properly. "And then red please, chop chop!" There's nothing stopping Iro from sneaking a peek of course. If she wants to see the raw wound.
Iroha doesn't mind being unknown! If it means she's not getting yelled at and chased out, she'll happily take anonymity. Crazy or not, she listens attentively to C'id's muttering. What on Pern is he doing under there? She plucks the scalpel out of his fingers, replaces it on the tray on the little mat that's separated from the clean, sterilized equipment. At least colour coded bottles are easier to locate, and she grabs both blue and red. When she hands over the blue, she also ducks down to peer under Galbranth's wing. Wince. "Ow… poor thing…."
C'id proceeds to spray down the raw wound. Which causes Galbranth to roar unceremoniously. "Mmm yes, a saline solution to clean out the wound. Stop that bellyaching you big beast. It will hurt more later if something becomes infected." He holds his hand out for the red bottle then, giving Iroha the blue. "Yes, yes. A shame and all of that. Had this been a few hundred years ago people would scoff at such a wound. Threadscore, that was the concern. A bit of flame lick, that's all." Once he's got the red bottle he spreads a bit of it around the outside of the wound, then rolls himself out. "Well then, go ahead and get this one dressed." Yes, he's talking to Iroha now. Telling her to dress the wound.
Eep! Dragon roar. Iroha isn't quite sure which is more disconcerting, the dragon in pain or C'id's dismissal of it as 'bellyaching.' But at least she holds her ground, swapping out the bottles when the time comes. "'A bit of flame lick? That's -all-?'" the girl echoes, putting much different stressors on the words. Scrabbling out from underneath the brown's wing when C'id wheels himself out, the panic is back on her face. If she says nothing, and attempts to dress the wound and botches the job, it would be veryvery bad. Which means it's confession time. "Um, s-sir? I'm not… I'm not really a… You just didn't have anyone here assisting you, and then you asked for the scalpel, and I didn't think it could hurt, but now!" She stops the headlong rush of words, squirming guiltily as she stands there. "What if I did it wrong?"
C'id looks at Iroha over his glasses, which look nearly to be falling off of his nose. "We haven't done much reading, have we? Dargonhealers were trained for one thing and one thing only during a fall. If that was a Threadwound half his wing would be eaten by now. This will heal in a few weeks and he won't even know he had it." C'id moves to clean himself up a bit. He sighs. "I know, I know. You're not trained to dress a burn wound. Well no time like the present then to learn something you ought to know already." He grabs a basin from one of the shelves and fills it with a bit of water. "Equal parts numbweed and redwort." Then he picks up a sheet of gauze from the shelf and a pair of shears. "Here, cut this to be slightly larger than the wound. The first two layers will be wet in the solution to help with pain and promote good healing. Then we will dress it in a dry gauze to keep it protected. I will give you a hand, nothing will go wrong."
Iroha looks stung. "I have! I just-" Oh bother. Why argue the point? A burn is bad enough in -her- mind, and Threadfall was like, forever ago. "Y-you know? But…? Wait, I ought to…?" Oh, blast, he's confusing! But if he's willing to show her, she's more than willing to be shown. Especially since her only experience with burns are of the sun and minor cooking accident variety, dealt with by cold water and aloe or dragontongue. Her unease being squashed beneath her eagerness, she listens and watches, nodding. At the passing over the gauze and shears, she has to take another quick peek under Galbranth's wing to double-check the size of the burn, and then she starts cutting as instructed. "How wet do they need to be? Soaked, or just dampened enough that material's lightly saturated?" Wow, maybe there's a brain inside that silly rainbow filled head of hers after all!
C'id is crazy after all. Who knows what century he thinks he's living in. Or what he studies and concocts in his lab all day when he's not assigned to his infirmary rounds. Once she's taken over the operation he goes back to mumbling to himself, not really paying attention. Until she addresses him directly. "Hm? Oh yes, yes… Damp. Damp is fine or it will seep into the outer dressing and be useless." He hands her the dry gauze now with the tape. "Mm yes, damp enough to stick. I'll hold, you tape. Yes aloe will be good once the wound has closed. Now it's just more of a wound than a burn. Except maybe these outside parts, they may want aloe there. Mm.. the rider should be someplace, ah well. Who was next." Mumble mumble.
Iroha's trying really hard to concentrate totally on the task she's been given, but can't help the strange, sidelong glances towards C'id at his muttering and mumbling. She really -does- manage to locate the crazies. Maybe it's a latent talent? Pernese superpower! Crazy attractant! Or, something. Once the gauze is cut to his instructions, she separates out the layers. Only one layer gets dipped into the solution, but there's a reason for inconsistency with what he told her. Guessing the gauze would soak up the solution quickly, she's planning on bring it back down to the appropriate level by placing the second sheet on dry, and then pressing the two layers gently together between her hands to faciliate the transfer of moisture. Which is done, and then it's back under the wing again, accepting the dry gauze and situating everything properly over the wound. "I'm sorry." This actually meant for the brown, nevermind how silly it might seem, before she gently presses the dressing to the wound and waits for C'id to start taping. "I can spread the aloe, sir. So you can move on to whoever's next." is offered. "And then maybe find you someone better suited to helping?"
Poor Iro! At least C'id isn't yelling at her, or shooing her out? The healer is examining her work, though it looks as if he's daydreaming a bit, mumbling about numbers for some strange formula or something. Once the wound is dressed he looks back under the wing. "Mm yes, yes." Then he suddenly moves to grab a glowbasket off the wall, taking it with him. "See these off color areas here? Smaller burns. Aloe… no. Need… this." He grabs a large jar out of what looks to be a toolbox. "Burn salve. Oil, aloe, bits of redwort, numbweed. Thin. /Thinly/ spread. Don't rub, that's painful. Pat, yes?" He hands her a cloth and shows her how thin the solution is. "Thin for patting. Finish up this one, yes." Then he scoffs. "More suited? I've shown you how now, no one else is more suited. One at a time, yes. We'll finish up here before we move on to the next patient. I'm sure they've slathered them all with numbweed anyways, wouldn't care if we got to them today or next week."
Yes, at least there is that. Although Iroha might almost prefer being yelled at to it being assumed that she'd had enough training - or -any- training - to assist like this in the first place! Because surely once someone more on-the-ball than C'id notices, the yelling will -really- start. Or so she expects. She blinks after C'id when he goes to grab the glowbasket, but is quick to follow his pointing to the off-colour areas that reveal the lesser burns in dragonhide. A lot of blinking follows his talking, but she's processing everything as fast as she can, letting it tick through to get filed away. "Pat, don't rub, very thin. Right, gotcha." She thinks so, anyway. "Like this?" Asked after opening the jar and dabbing the cloth lightly in the salve, then reaching up to pat it across the burns. "Well, sir, I meant someone actually trained, not-" A nosy bookworm gardener type. "But wouldn't leaving them so long leave the burns open to infection, like you were saying earlier? If they aren't cleaned and everything?" Still patting, carefully making sure every last centimetre that needs to gets covered before she'll let herself get dragged off to the next patient. If there is a next one, for her at least.
Not if C'id can help it! He just wants someone to follow him around and do a bit of cleaning up once the jobs were finished. And hand him things and make him seem a little less crazy. C'id scrubs his hands again and cleans off his glasses. Then he removes his coat and gets a fresh white one. Then he washes his hands again. Maybe he's OCD? Though likely it's just that he's forgotten he's washed them twice already. "Yes yes, that's good, pat." Not that he's looked. "Bring the tray." Him and his green are already moving to an agonizing blue, this one's tail's been burnt. "Blue bottle!" Yes, he's calling to Iroha. She better get the lead out!
Iroha was just about to make good on her offer of finding a proper assistant, after washing her own hands. But then she -is- being yelled at - or called to. Is there a difference, when C'id seems to expect her to be at his elbow? She can't help herself, though. The worry remains in the back of her mind, but whatever C'id's motivations for continuing to bark at her, she can't hide the pleased expression that crosses her face. Just an instant, then gone, as she leaps to bring the tray and all necessary accoutrements over to that poor blue. "Blue bottle, here, sir!" she chirps.
It's more of the same this time around, only less cutting. "Scar tissue… not such a bad thing on a tail, but on a wing it could mean an uncomfortable fly, or even pain if the piece of hide is stretched during say… a flight." He eyes his own dragon for a moment. Iroha will get to watch, he takes the bottle and sprays down the wound to clean it out. "Bit of ash in there. This one is fine. Wrap it please." And he goes to wash his hands. "Not even an apprentice. Chores? No… Visiting?" He looks around. "No. Morbid curiosity." Yes, apparently he /has/ notices her lack of knot. He pulls a pad of paper from his breast pocket and starts scribbling onto it while she tends to the wound.
And watch Iroha does, as well as listen. Avidly, she listens, just soaking up anything C'id says. Undoubtedly intending to sift through the muttering and random to extract every bit of useful knowledge she can from this experience. Whe he instructs her to wrap the burn on the blue's tail, there's no hesitation or protest this time. She just does as she's told, with only a "Yes, sir." to acknowledge that she'd heard him. A pained twitch, though it's not the dragon, but Iro. "I am not -morbid!-" she protests, voice a bit too sharp as his, to her mind, unfair assessement. "I just… want to help." A lame finish, a shrug. And then movement towards the wash basin after the blue's tail is successfully bandaged.
Well, it was Bunansath who actually notices the lack of knot. A while back. And C'id has been talking with her this whole time, but he was just too crazy to keep it inside of his head. Especially with all that other stuff floating around inside of there. "Oh yes. A name. I am C'id, this is Bunansath. I am a masterhealer. Dragonhealer. I write books mostly, now. Teach. Do my rounds in surgery. Not much." Surgery, that is. He holds his hand out to her, then retracts it and directs her to the sink. "Ah yes. Your name." Then he breaks out into maniacal laughter. "Yes, not morbid. Sure sure. Ha! Good work. Your name, please."
Brilliant minds can often be mistaken for crazy ones, right? Or so Iroha might choose to believe of C'id, since it's less frightening than thinking about the alternative. Besides, she can find the best in almost anyone. Just ask L'ar; she can (just, barely) find excuses even for Sisketh! "C'id… Bunansath." A bob that might be curtsey or bow, or both or neither! Whatever, it's intended respectfully. His continued babbling gets him a puzzled quirk of eyebrows and an uncertain, sidelong glance. "But dragonriders can't— Nevermind." Probably safer to let him have his delusion? The hand offering, retracting, redirecting also gets a blink. And the laughter, a downright -nervous- look. What has she gotten herself into this time?? "Iroha. My name is Iroha." Dubiously given.
C'id crumples up the paper he was writing on and tosses it aside. Then he keeps writing on a fresh sheet, even as she introduces herself. "I…ro… ha. Yes, yes. Well, no. Maybe. Impressed late." So he was saying he was considered a master before? Perhaps. He might be some sort of dragonhealing genius, it's hard to tell. "Here." He rips off the sheet of paper and hands it to her. "At the hall, give them this." All the paper says is 'Iroha has potential. -C'id'. "An apprentice, yes, you. I don't take them, no. No time. Helpful to impress, deal with the patient and not the rider. But alas, career limiting." Babbling babbling. "We always need someone attentive, you can learn here. But the paperwork needs to be done at the hall, or something. If you want to help, like you said. Mm, lunch time, yes." He'll wander off as soon as she accepts the paper from him.
Iroha studies C'id as he writes, rather as if he were some new and strange she'd found crawling across one of the leaves on a plant in her garden. She doesn't even try to say anything, because perhaps she's learned by this point that interjecting anything into his stream of self-absorbed babble isn't going to do her any good. The paper, when it's offered, is taken at first with puzzlement. "At the…?" A quick glance. And then a stare. "Help… I…?" And it's lucky for him that he'll have wandered off as soon as she'd taken the piece of paper. Otherwise he'd have found himself on the receiving end of a hug, crazy or not. "Thank you." Whispered, as she holds onto that bit of paper like it's the most precious thing on Pern. And then, suddenly, she's off, weaving carefully but swiftly on her course out of the infirmary. "I need to find K'ael!" Whoop!
