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!
22.Aug.12, 02:28 AM
Talian kept his distance from the Weyrleader. Tal and D'ren had spoken only a couple of times, and they were not pelasant events. The healer felt a little bit better after their more recent encounter; after a turn of feeling like a helpless prisoner, he'd been able to convince the Weyrleader to change something. It showed the old bronzerider did care, on some level. But in the end, it all blew up in Talian's face anyhow. What was the point of trying?
When the Weyrleader passed by, he gave Talian a pat on the shoulder. The healer flinched, twisting himself aside and recoiling against the door, eyes widening in some sort of horrified anticipation. D'ren froze, looking back at the healer with both hurt and understanding, before he turned and walked away.
Talian frowned. The bronzerider probably thought he understood. He never would, though.
After the exchange, the air in the room felt icy cold to Talian. He sighed and pushed a bit of his hair behind one ear before closing his eyes to compose himself. He had a patient, after all. Something to focus on. Someone who needed his help.
The healer turned on his heels and approached at a brisk pace. "Good day," he said, his voice smooth and soothing, touched with just a hint of sympathy. Talian knew this was not a good day, by any stretch. But he was a healer, and it was his job to start by not making things worse.
"Nice to meet you, Sanderon," he continued, calm and professional. His eyes were both soft and studious. "Can you do me a favor and sit up? I'll need to have a look at your back." He reached into his bag and produced a pair of lambskin gloves. He was going to need some new ones soon. He was running low.
While he waited on Sanderon to get into position, Talian went ahead and prepared a bowl of redwort solution. The supplies were kept onhand and an attendant had already brought a bowl of warm water. That sort of thing had been a rare thing when he first arrived. As time rolled by, Talian's insistence on certain procedures and policies seemed to be working out. He wasn't gutsy enough to take over the healing hall like he knew he could, but it was nice for his voice to be heard somewhere.
"This is a disinfectant," he explained as he returned, bowl in hand. "It'll help me clean your wounds more thoroughly. While I flush it out, I'll go ahead and have a look to see if stitches will be required. But first..."
He returned to the supply table and rummaged for a moment before returning with Fellis juice. "Here," he said softly. "Take this. It will help with the pain."
When the Weyrleader passed by, he gave Talian a pat on the shoulder. The healer flinched, twisting himself aside and recoiling against the door, eyes widening in some sort of horrified anticipation. D'ren froze, looking back at the healer with both hurt and understanding, before he turned and walked away.
Talian frowned. The bronzerider probably thought he understood. He never would, though.
After the exchange, the air in the room felt icy cold to Talian. He sighed and pushed a bit of his hair behind one ear before closing his eyes to compose himself. He had a patient, after all. Something to focus on. Someone who needed his help.
The healer turned on his heels and approached at a brisk pace. "Good day," he said, his voice smooth and soothing, touched with just a hint of sympathy. Talian knew this was not a good day, by any stretch. But he was a healer, and it was his job to start by not making things worse.
"Nice to meet you, Sanderon," he continued, calm and professional. His eyes were both soft and studious. "Can you do me a favor and sit up? I'll need to have a look at your back." He reached into his bag and produced a pair of lambskin gloves. He was going to need some new ones soon. He was running low.
While he waited on Sanderon to get into position, Talian went ahead and prepared a bowl of redwort solution. The supplies were kept onhand and an attendant had already brought a bowl of warm water. That sort of thing had been a rare thing when he first arrived. As time rolled by, Talian's insistence on certain procedures and policies seemed to be working out. He wasn't gutsy enough to take over the healing hall like he knew he could, but it was nice for his voice to be heard somewhere.
"This is a disinfectant," he explained as he returned, bowl in hand. "It'll help me clean your wounds more thoroughly. While I flush it out, I'll go ahead and have a look to see if stitches will be required. But first..."
He returned to the supply table and rummaged for a moment before returning with Fellis juice. "Here," he said softly. "Take this. It will help with the pain."
