Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
08.Apr.12, 08:20 PM
'Good work.' The words never failed to make Breccan flush with warmth and pleasure, the pride in herself she didn't know how to get on her own. The only thing that would have made her happier would be Jada saying she wanted to fight; 'Blondie' would have taken her then and there and hang the consequences. Besides, with such an advanced case of infection, she could really have rung the girl's bell. Too bad.
Talian's hissed curse made her lean forward and catch sight of precisely what had caused him such dismay: rotting flesh. Nothing like necrosis to turn the stomach, and even Breccan had a bit of a rough moment seeing something so obviously dead inside something still alive. Naturally, Healer had beaten anything like a gag reflex out of her over the Turns, and she kept herself neatly in hand to steadily meet Talian's eyes. She didn't respond verbally, but held his gaze and followed him to the other arm, doing what had become almost automatic by now: wait for Talian to cut, flush the pus out of the incision, move on to the next cut.
She took his scalpel wordlessly, dropping it into the faintly pink solution of redwort that was used to sterilize just about everything. She'd have preferred to boil it, but there really wasn't time for that, and good scalpels were difficult to come by. It was difficult to make a straight, fine blade, even with a good mold, and they could be further warped by poor sharpening. Better to stick with a blade you knew was good than risk a new one, especially when you were operating in such a mobile place. All the tendons to control her fingers were up in that mess, and a bad cut could really make Jada useless.
Breccan had just enough time to freshen up her supply of clean water before she was returning Talian's scalpel. She had no desire to step on his toes and she was entirely confident he knew precisely what he was doing, but she was somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't be able to watch much of the surgery if she was stitching up the other arm. Ah, well. It wasn't a good idea to leave something like that wide open, and she was a little curious to see how she'd do. It had certainly been a while since she last sutured.
Moving back across Jada's body, she realized suddenly that two people were now singing, of all things. It was a pleasant enough sound and both of them seemed quite talented, but why on Pern had they decided to sing? Odd. Odd people, all of them.
For her part, she quietly requested needlethorn and catgut. A final flush to remove straggling pus was quickly accomplished, and then she paused, needle in hand. Numbweed would be polite, but a quick look at the girl's face told her she probably didn't need it. Waste not! she thought gleefully, though in truth Jada would experience little more than a distant pricking, nothing like the deeply unpleasant business of being sutured without analgesics. The first puncture of the lip of the wound was a little more difficult than she'd expected. Human skin was surprisingly stretchy, dense stuff; she'd forgotten what it felt like to push a needle into it.
Soon enough, though, she found her hands and mind remembered perfectly well how to set in a neat line of stitches, and she worked her way steadily up the arm, sneaking quick looks at Talian's more interesting surgery when she could. Her water would be coming to a boil soon, so she asked a Healer to grind up dried ginger and garlic in the meantime; she'd put a hot poultice on the whole mess when she was finished.
Talian's hissed curse made her lean forward and catch sight of precisely what had caused him such dismay: rotting flesh. Nothing like necrosis to turn the stomach, and even Breccan had a bit of a rough moment seeing something so obviously dead inside something still alive. Naturally, Healer had beaten anything like a gag reflex out of her over the Turns, and she kept herself neatly in hand to steadily meet Talian's eyes. She didn't respond verbally, but held his gaze and followed him to the other arm, doing what had become almost automatic by now: wait for Talian to cut, flush the pus out of the incision, move on to the next cut.
She took his scalpel wordlessly, dropping it into the faintly pink solution of redwort that was used to sterilize just about everything. She'd have preferred to boil it, but there really wasn't time for that, and good scalpels were difficult to come by. It was difficult to make a straight, fine blade, even with a good mold, and they could be further warped by poor sharpening. Better to stick with a blade you knew was good than risk a new one, especially when you were operating in such a mobile place. All the tendons to control her fingers were up in that mess, and a bad cut could really make Jada useless.
Breccan had just enough time to freshen up her supply of clean water before she was returning Talian's scalpel. She had no desire to step on his toes and she was entirely confident he knew precisely what he was doing, but she was somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't be able to watch much of the surgery if she was stitching up the other arm. Ah, well. It wasn't a good idea to leave something like that wide open, and she was a little curious to see how she'd do. It had certainly been a while since she last sutured.
Moving back across Jada's body, she realized suddenly that two people were now singing, of all things. It was a pleasant enough sound and both of them seemed quite talented, but why on Pern had they decided to sing? Odd. Odd people, all of them.
For her part, she quietly requested needlethorn and catgut. A final flush to remove straggling pus was quickly accomplished, and then she paused, needle in hand. Numbweed would be polite, but a quick look at the girl's face told her she probably didn't need it. Waste not! she thought gleefully, though in truth Jada would experience little more than a distant pricking, nothing like the deeply unpleasant business of being sutured without analgesics. The first puncture of the lip of the wound was a little more difficult than she'd expected. Human skin was surprisingly stretchy, dense stuff; she'd forgotten what it felt like to push a needle into it.
Soon enough, though, she found her hands and mind remembered perfectly well how to set in a neat line of stitches, and she worked her way steadily up the arm, sneaking quick looks at Talian's more interesting surgery when she could. Her water would be coming to a boil soon, so she asked a Healer to grind up dried ginger and garlic in the meantime; she'd put a hot poultice on the whole mess when she was finished.
