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+--- Thread: [G] [P] [EVENT] 740.07.?? | Drama Llama Ding-Dong-A-Rama (/showthread.php?tid=4554)
740.07.?? | Drama Llama Ding-Dong-A-Rama - Sariel - 03.Nov.19
There is nothing worse than a patient who won't settle. Greenrider N'kant was in constant motion in the sort of way that had Sariel ducking the energetic motions of his arms and hands as he described, well, everything on the way to his stupidly severe sunburn.
"Will you hold still for a--" there came his arm again as he talked over her. "N'kant! For mercy's sake, be still or I'll have to call someone to help me restrain you." She let out a soft oath under her breath.
"If A'ton hadn't been sunsick," he said determinedly as Sariel put a good layer of soothing aloe mash into the poultice she was making for him. "I'd not have been out there so long!"
"I've told you before, N'kant, that you're prone to getting burnt and I think it's pretty obvious by now that you need to do something about it," she murmured and there was a rather cross tone to her voice. "I'll tell you once more, wear light long-sleeved tunics and you won't fry like an eel in a skillet. How difficult is that to do?"
There was a long, long silence as his face turned a few shades of colour.
"It makes me look stupid," he fumed. "Like I can't take any heat and then I look as pale as...a cave eel and then some! I don't want to look like a bundle of clothing!"
"Well, you're either going to be pale or you're going to burn, those are your two options. I mean," she went through his pale hair carefully and grimaced, "even here, you're burnt. Either cover up properly or I'm writing your Wingleader a note pulling you off duty until you have enough sense to care for yourself properly."
"Nonononono," somehow, he managed not to howl, his blue eyes wide. "You wouldn't! I have drills and work to do with Cereleth and--" She neatly laid the next poultice down. "Ooooh, oh...Faranth bless that's better! Fine, fine. I'll do it. You win. I'll wear the sleeves and a cap. Just don't tell my wingleader or I'll never live this down."
"Deal," she said, satisfied. "Now, take the rest of these with you and have your weyrmate change them at regular intervals. You can keep them on through drills with the lighter long sleeves so you're not in here again for this. If you need more, just poke your head in here again, right?"
"Right," he said sheepishly. "Cereleth says she'll beat that through my thick skull better than a Harper on drums. My...ah, thanks, Sariel. Sorry about," he gestured at himself, "all of this. I owe you."
"The only thing I want," she said with a laugh, "is not to see you in here with another burn! Keep that up, rider, and there's no debt." She shooed at him as she started to clean up. "Go, get out of here and be healthy, you scamp."
As he got out of her way, she saw him grimace and knew his green was giving him the what-for. It was always nice to see a dragon reinforcing her directives. He was a Fortian rider popping by for some reason or another. Sariel shook her head slowly. It wasn't for her to know the backstory but she'd seen the man more than enough to know he did press himself rather hard.
He'd be back in a few months, no doubt. N'kant was partial to her healing hands, she noticed. And maybe her sass, too.