Escapism

Talian dodged past one of his fellow healers, muttering a wispy and only barely-audible apology, before stepping through the door and out into the summer sunshine.

Ah, it was a lovely day. The heat of the day hadn’t quite arrived, leaving the outside world warm and bright, though not yet punishing. This was Talian’s second favorite time of day, after the midnight stars of course. It was a slow day too, affording him a little bit of time to get out of the hall and walk around before his midday meal.

Slowly, the young man was allowing himself such small pleasures. He was still far from happy. He didn’t imagine he ever would be. But on a morning like this, filled with the sights, sounds and smells of a perfect summer morning, it was possible to get away from his problems for at least a few minutes.

He sighed happily and put his hands in his pockets as he wandered away from the building. He’d learned his way around in his brief time here, less due to wandering and more due to his perfect memory. The weyr was laid out logically enough, though he rarely found any reason to go anywhere other than the healing hall and the dining hall.

He paused and ran his fingers through his coppery brown hair. There was the offhanded fear that some sort of serious incident may happen at the hall and he would be needed. That was enough to cause him to hesitate, pausing awkwardly in the middle of the grass in front of the hall. He cut his eyes towards the building, wondering if he needed to go back…
Nah, it would be fine. Ideally, this place could go without him forever. Surely they could go one morning.

And so he resumed walking, his eyes downcast and his face bearing an almost shameful expression. He’d always been a decisive and relatively driven young man. There was always a great purpose, a reason to progress…why did he feel so lost and isolated these days? Like he couldn’t make his own decisions?

He felt like a crumpled piece of paper tossed into the sea. It wouldn’t be so bad if he just felt like himself, but he didn’t. He couldn’t pull himself together, not even for a simple walk. This wasn’t good.

The heat of the day had not yet come, and Lymsleia teetered a moment as another healer, a young man barreled past her. She'd nearlyed  spilled a bottle of salve! Finding another person to take the large jug from her, she wheeled after him. She wasn't angry, persay. But the jug has been one of those rare things that hadn't been reproduced int he South yet, not easily, anyway. And the Salve that filled it, was still hard to make with even with the right components.

It wasn't numbweed, though it was special mix, and that man was in such a rush. He'd appologised, hurriedly but that wasn't enough. That wasn't enough at all, and just who was he? It wasn't a face she recognized- at least not right away.

The day was beautiful. Lymsleia had slowed her walk, and allowed herself to be distracted, by the sound of the wind, the smell of the healing, herbs and salves, the scent of the vineyards- Escherlov worked there and it made her smile. Step step... She paused eyeing the retreating young man, with curious confidence. Most men didn't move like that. "Ecuse me!" she called out, walking after him, "Have you seen a---" she stopped talking as her eyes came to focus on the person in front of her. The hair was the correct shade.

Oh it was him. "You could have broken that jar..." she began angrily, and then stopped. It wasn't worth the energy. It wasn't worth getting so upset over. The Jar was fine, the salve with in was fine.
A bad attitude would certainly taint the beauty of the day. " Sorry I snapped at you." she began, trying to diffuse her own anger. "So, what's your name? I'm Lymsleia." she began trying to introduce herself politely.

Oh, wow. This place was full of unpleasant surprises.

So this girl ran him down, yelled at him like a child, and then immediately apologized? Talian suspected insincerity. Of course, he wasn’t the sort of person to be angry. He almost never got angry. Offended was another matter, but the numbness that was restricting his motions and thoughts was enough to keep that at bay as well. Something in him wasn’t working quite right.

“Sorry, but you’re mistaken. I didn’t even touch you,” he corrected softly. If she'd dropped the jar, it would have been her own fault. “Sorry just the same, though. I didn't mean to startle you.” There was a smooth, sweet quality to his voice, and as always, it was almost difficultly soft. He just shrugged apologetically and  started to slowly walk away, assuming she had no other business with him. He had no interest in talking to an uppity girl who chased him down just to scold him. To him, she was just another bossy weyrperson. They were all bossy and mostly incompetent, at least in his eyes. He’d made it his policy not to argue, but compliance and companionship were different things.

He paused sharply when she asked his name. “Talian,” he said gently over his shoulder. It would be rude to just power walk off, no matter how much he wanted to. He shrugged a second time. He’d seen then girl around before, but he never bothered to learn her name. He didn't know why she was bothering to offer it if she was going to be so rude from the start. Just another weyrperson he reminded himself.

"Did you need something else?" he asked politely, rigid and proper as always, though he was unable to hide his blatant look of skepticism. This girl must be up to something. He wished not, but so far he wasn't having much luck with wishing.

Lymzseia was quiet for a moment., and seemed for just a second to be taken aback. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to get you mixed up with someone else. I just nearly dropped a rather large jar of salve. It was really rare and important." she drew in a breath. "As I said I''m Lymsleia, Journeywoman Healer." she tried to reintroduce herself. "Perhaps we should get started on the right foot." she tried to smile.

Well she'd really stirred up the burned stew pot now, Lymsleia realised. Wrong person. Just great. It was two early in the day to be making mistakes. though perhaps it made sense, to be getting all confused the Flight had rattled her. Dragons or no, she never wanted to be  forced to hide like that again. Ever.

"Sorry about before. And yes, I'd like something else-- I mean if its not too much to ask, would you like some company? We're stuck here," she gestured to the Weyr at large. "As far as I know." she  realized they were moving. Slowly, but they were moving. That was progress, moving forward was always progress. Here they- well the Weyr- was , the last dragons on the planet, and they were in the thick of it. And here this guy was being a sad-sack.

Talian seemed to deflate a bit as he let his guard down. Presently, after a split second of hesitation, he managed a modest smile. "I'm a healer as well," he remarked, though he was careful to leave rank out of it.

He perked up a little, if only because he realized he wasn't about to be destroyed. He slid his thin hands into his pockets and tossed his hair from his eyes. "It's fine. Like I said, I didn't mean to startle you," he said. There wasn't an angry bone in the boy's body, though Lysmelia's idea of him as a 'sad-sack' wasn't too far off mark. He let out a relieved exhale and looked back a her, staring dead into her eyes as he spoke.

"I suppose," he said. "I'm not the best company, though. There isn't much of a story or anything," he replied. He wasn't sure why he said it, either. He didn't want to make friends with these deplorable dragon-people. He didn't even think he was capable of it. He just didn't want to be rude! But even as he protested to himself, he couldn't help but wonder if something deep inside of him was just terribly lonely. After all, he never spoke to anyone except patients, and only barely to them. He hadn't had a pleasant chat with anyone since arriving. He was absolutely alone, and part of him both recognized and resented that.

Maybe taking some time to talk to this girl wasn't such a bad idea after all. His eyes widened and brightened just a touch, though they still hung heavy with lack of sleep and mental fatigue. He stopped walking and turned towards her. "Did you have something in mind?"

Something in his brain twitched. You never DID learn how to talk to people he sighed to himself. He pause was almost comical in it's naive awkwardness.

Lymsleia grinned, the smile helped her feel more comfortable and way more confident.  This guy wasn't soo bad. "Come now, everyone has a story." she said in the more calm and  and sedate way possible, though there was a hint of a nudge in her voice. "In everyone there's a story. In everyone there is a song, my teacher once told me that. I mean as far as I am concered, one doesn ot come to Katila, with out one. Each day's an adventure!"

The young woman was bright, and warm as she walked backwards a head of him. Facing him with her unusual eyes. A Heterochromia, though by birth or accident, it wasn't readily apparent. Her right eye was blue, startling blue. Something you'd see that was nearly violet, unual in one with such a dark skin tone. But the other eye was equally as storm cloud grey. She didn't seem blind in the eye, far from it, as she bounded towards him the pupil seemed to contract and dialate normally.

"Did I have something in mind?" she asks softly. She walked backwards a bit until- boom- the trip was perhaps partially caclulated, and perhaps not. She went over backwards and smiled up at him. "I am ok.." she brushed her pants off. "I grew up in Falen's Hold,its a small hold up.. north." she realizes after a few heart beats. "So far away." The tone of her voice was somber.  "What about you? Any brothers or sisters?"

Talian replied with a weak laugh and shallow shake of his head. "Not much to me, I'm afraid," he reiterated. "Just a hardass father and a bunch of sisters." His father had always been rather...to the point. The girls weren't worth educating in his eyes, and the one boy was worth educating aggressively. It was messed up, even a sheltered man like Talian realized that. There wasn't a lot of nurturing, but there wasn't exactly a lot of drama, either.

"All I've ever done was study, really," he explained. He wasn't sure what to make about her little speech. It sounded awfully foolishly enthusiastic, but at the same time, Talian admittedly had a liking for melodrama. He offered a lopsided smile as he looked back in her eyes. He noticed them, but he made no special comment. He was sure a girl with such a rare genetic condition probably heard about it enough. Perhaps she was even self-conscious.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by her little trip. He gasped and instinctively reached out to catch her, though he failed. He bit his lip and recoiled slightly. "...Are you all right?" he asked. He was too naive to consider the possibility that she'd done it on purpose.

His mood soured again when she mentioned the north. "Fort," he replied softly. Of course, he didn't remember it well. He'd only lived there until he was 6. After that, it was Fort's Healing Hall for him.

Lymsleia nodded. "At least you had your dad. Mine.. is ..was.. a rider and mom left not long after.." she says quietly. "So is.. or was.. I don't rightfulyl know and I've not had time to check the records-my brother." she tries to calm her racing heart, with deep slow breaths, the trip had startled her and it showed on her face. Hereyes widdened, but she didn't miss a beat.

"You're joking right, all you've done is study?" The woman reached to push herself up from the ground. "I am the youngest of six, the only girl, so I've got five older brothers, one is a rider, as if my father." she re-iterates. "I am fine. IT's a trip,nothing is broken." She nodded. "I was Falen's Hold is  well its on Ista Island,  well on the small islands near it. closer to boll, but Ista's the nearest big hold." she explains.

Talian quirked a brow and shook his head, his thin lips twisted into an ironic and almost pained smirk. "I'm not sure that being physically present means I had him in my life," he commented, though he didn't want to stray too deeply into personal territory. He was shy.

Lysmelia obviously wan't, though. Talian didn't mind listening. He nodded sympathetically and tried his best to listen, but his brain zeroed in on her breathing and posture. "Lysmelia, correct?" he asked uncertainly, extending one hand and taking a cautious step forward. "Are you all right? is your heart racing?" He asked with concern.

He nodded towards the gather square. "Let's sit down," he suggested. His own heart was throbbing as well. He didn't like to think about home, but in truth, that's all he really thought about since being taken. He started to walk slowly in the direction, waiting patiently for her to join him. "...And well, yes," he said, following up on her previous question. He'd forgotten to answer. "That IS true.  I started schooling when I was seven turns old," he explained. "It was my father's idea."

She nodded as he asked her name. "Yes." she whispers in an almost worried air. She floundered for a moment as he- Talian- asked if her heart was racing. Yes it was! Emotions, with emotion, her heart was pounding with it. Worry and sadness, happiness at findign a new friend, confusion. The Flight had left her confused, but somehow more receptive to romantic flirtation. That much she recognized, Lymsleia couldn't begin to describe how that flight had opened her senses.

She drew a slow breath as she leaned on him, for just a moment, let herself play the 'helpless' Lady, maybe  Talian could help himself out of the hole. She hung onto him a bit. "Talian, the  Weyr.. this place its needs people of all sorts to thrive." she began in a whispered tone. "And you can help. If you've been studying since you've been seven turns olds, the healer craft is your life. But you don't have to spend it doing that. I've found while here... there was a vinter-his name's Escherlov. I've found that I like growing things too, plants and grapes and.. all manner of things." she smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" she tried to offering him something different. If he'd been schooling since he was seven, and he had to be around her age- ick. Time to get out and play in the dirt!

This was bad. He tried to hold his uncertainty back, but as always, his emotions betrayed him. He was pitiful at hiding his emotions, and as such, he always cursed moments like this. What was the proper course of action, try to lie and fail?

No. He just cast her an apologetic frown. "I understand what you're saying about this place needing everything it can get..but to be perfectly honest, I don't think very highly of the dragonriders." He hated to say it, because he imagined it would make him an instant villain. Shards, he was even putting it mildly. Were he capable of anger, he'd probably be wishing the plague would come back and wipe them all out. He certainly didn't think he would ever forgive them. That's what made him saddest, though; their plight obviously called for desperate measures.

How is it that he had to be one of the casualties, though? There had to be a better way.

He'd hoped this wouldn't come up, but he couldn't just nod and smile at this girl and pretend to be pleased. He shrugged though, willing to let it go now that he'd been honest. "I'd give anything to go back home," he said. Even as he spoke, he considered the fact that he didn't have a whole lot to go home to. Well, except a few things...

He gave Lymsleia a look of helpless apology. "But on to other things. Gardening, you say? I...can't say that really strikes my interest, but I could always give it a try," he said shyly. "I guess I don't really know what strikes my interest, though." He didn't want to play in the dirt. Dirt caused infections. But it beat being alone, so he would give it a shot.

She bowed her head listening to his objects and the sound of his breathing. His rants and railings. She simply listened. Perhaps that was her lot in life, listening. "A Hold needs its lord and lady, and its people. A Crafthall its Masters, Journeymen and apprentices, and even those with jsut a passing interesting." she waves her hand, and begins to reach for his wrist as if to check is pulse.

"A home you don't build a home on the shore out out of wood-its precious and wood wears away quickly and easily. You build it of stone, something that with stands winds and tides, and can be worn away over years and still stand firm." she says in a warmly ancient tone. Her eyes sparkle wildly. "Do you not think highly of them for running- and hoping to save themselves and those closest to them? Or do you not think them highly for taking you? We all were taken, Talian... Tal." she spoke in a cool tone. "You and I are in a similar boat. I was like that for a long moment too, I wanted to give anything to see Aunt Siale, or Haswa." she murmurs. "But  I am here, and I can do the most good helping the people here, at my new home. Maybe oneday, in time I'll visit them. Its something you can hope for, a chance to visit."

As Lymslia listened to Talian talk of Gardening. "I think Vineyards could be fun, I mean Escherlov seems to love his work in the the grapes, and it could be fun, its like watching a bone knit, takes time and work, and  good set and training to rebuild the arm strength, but in the end its well worth it."

His eyes glazed over as she spoke about home-building. It might have seemed like he wasn't paying attention, were it not for the slight mistiness in his eyes which he quickly blinked away. "That's the thing, Lysmelia...That stuff doesn't matter to me. I don't think I'll ever forgive them for this. I don't want to be a part of any of this. I have to though, so...Well, I'm still alive. It didn't kill me." He was being optimistic, but only just. Yeah, being stolen hadn't killed him. He certainly wasn't living, though. "I certainly don't have any interest in Impressing a dragon."

Through all of this, his voice never broke a whisper.

Honestly, he didn't understand how anyone could want or enjoy this. How could anyone actually like these evil dragonriders? But it wasn't important to know the intricate hows and whys. All that mattered was that they did. He understood that they did, but he'd come to terms with his own inability to share their feelings. If they wanted to love dragons, let them.  Let those people Impress the ugly things.

"I really don't want to talk about this," he said hastily. He paused briefly, having noticed in passing that she'd called him Tal; his old nickname. It was a logical enough shortening, so there wasn't anything special about it, but it had stuck out to him just the same. A coincidence, but a nice one..and a bit biting as well. "Heh.." he said softly. "My friend back at home used to call me that." He didn't make any more comments about gardening, but he continued to follow anyhow. Grapes were a better topic than dragonriders.

She smooshed her hand together. "Not even a little. I mean these things are creatures of Legend!" she says in a small tone. She turned away for a moment as they walked. She'd caught the tears in his eyes- the begining of mistiness which signaled a release of emotion.

"So you'd rather be at home studying more? Studying to become a Journeyman Healer... with no other choice than to study?" she asks. She'd mad an assumption it seemed, any one who put their child into  schooling at seven turns was crazy. Let a child be a child. Let he child dream, and as by his relucant-streak to not embrace the change and make it his own.

That could be a problem. "You don't have any interest in.." she paused. "I admited I thought it was impossible, but when I awoke here and met the people here I began to understand why I wasn't happy at the Hall. I wasn't happy because I was... now a journeyman, but unhappy."

Lymsleia watched as she changed the direction of the conversation. She let him choose the river's course. "Tal?" she asked gently. "I do like calling you Tal."

"I suppose we'll see," was his only reply. He didn't foresee a change of attitude anytime soon, but there wasn't much point in arguing or getting too worked up over it. He was there, and unless he grew wings or gills, he wasn't getting home. Ever. Creatures of legend or not, he still wanted them out of his life. Lysmelia had a point though; there wasn't really too much for him to go back to. There was Fiora, of course, but surely she was over their awkward little encounter by now.

He loosened up again when the topic changed. "I was wondering how you knew for a moment. About the nickname, I mean. But I guess it makes sense, there isn't much else you could shorten it to," he commented. A small smile played on the corners of his mouth. "Well, I like being called that. I hadn't heard it in a while...I guess you're the first person I've really spoken to, other than patients and a couple other people in passing." Like that greenrider. Ick.

"...You know," he said after a moment of unintentionally awkward silence, "I think I may have heard of you. Heterochromia is rare."  He could remember people back home occasionally mentioning a girl with mismatched eyes. He wasn't afraid of it, like some people might have been. It was a curiosity, though.

Lymselia smiled a bit, "It was a easier to jsut to call you,Tal, you can call me Lym, if you wish." her voice sounded almost formal as she said those words. She seemed a bit taken abaack as he admited to her, that she was the first person he'd spoken to here-assumably of his own free will.

"Tal, look, you can't hide away from the people here. They need you, your patients need you and one day, one of those people who may be asking for your help is someone.. you may not like." she acknowledged his dislike of the riders- it'd be near neon-sign like. He'd called dragons ugly for the first Egg's sake. Dragons? They weren't ugly, admitedly they were puppy-cute, but they were beautiful in their own way.

"Its possible. When I went to the Hall, I waws pretty much examined as a 'case of' heterochromia. My eyes were essentially walking examples. The blue and grey eyes snapped back on him. "Believe me, I think someone must have written a paper or two on it. I found myself wondering why, my eyes were two different colors. I mean its rare that the colors are completely -natural. Its hard to say if either eye would have been blue or the other grey by nature. But I got one of each. Though it does make for a pretty picture. I am tempted to ask someone to paint me.."

"Lym," he repeated, as he often did. Repeating things helped him solidify them in his memory. "It's very nice. Perky and bright sounding...kind of like you," he said. He didn't mean for his words to sound anything but an observsation, but they came out playful. He was pitifully unaware of his own intonations half the time.

"...And I know," he admitted. He knew he had to talk to someone one day. To assume otherwise was foolish. He even managed a half-laugh as she mentioned people he 'may not like'. "I've already had to treat a rider...Some guy who got his arm torn open," he explained. "My specialty is trauma, and no one else was on hand. I didn't mind...I'm still a healer," he said softly. It was his job to tend to the wounded, even if he wasn't a big fan of them as people. He'd done it before back at home. Why not do it here, too? He hated to see people in pain.

He nodded politely though her story about her heterochromia. "I know people tend to be alarmed by rare traits like that. My mother had red hair...that sometimes caused a stir. I don't see the big deal, though. People wind up feeling self-conscious over something unique they were born with..it's just natural," he reasoned. He wasn't going to bully someone over something so silly as their eye color!

At the sound of the compliment she smiled, wildly. "And there's the person I knew you could be." she said with a warm tone ot her voice. "You're opening up, like a flower, a little sunlight- that's me- and some good soil and we'll have you in full blood in no time." The metaphor perhaps wasn't 100% correct, but it  was a bit more colorful than 'you're doing better now, aren't you?

She listened to him, for a long moment, just sort of absorbing the information. At least he had in her opinion the heart of a healer. He'd been willing to help those people who he had not liked. "People do tend to be alarmed. I always considered my eyes to be... my eyes. I only got ... worried about it as I got older. But  I've come to terms with it. Red hair... like fire red? Or are we talking  orche red, or.. blood red.. what shade of red?" she asks with bouncy tone to her voice. She's moving slightly more animatedly as well.

Lymsleia found a comfortable place to settled down outside. "Natural or not, things that aren't 'common' get looked at hard. My eyes, your mother's hair. Blue eyes with this skin tone. is unusual.  Red hair.. well that's family or luck... or dye, though that last one --hard to do and hard to not get stained."

He sat down beside her and nodded sagely. It was nice to have a seat in the soft grass. If nothing else, the actual climate of Katila was quite nice. He enjoyed the warm weather, and it was nice to be somewhere that actually had grass. "Two of my sisters have it as well, while the other two have hair similar to mine," he said. His hair wasn't red. Rather, it was a darkish shade of brown that sometimes caught a bit of copper or golden coloration in the light, but only at just the right angle. "They were occasionally bullied for it, but it also attracted positive attention...my older sister in particular. She was asked out all the time..."

Fiora always mentioned how nice Carys' hair was. She was jealous of it, even. Talian never understood why. No one in the world was as pretty as Fiora.

Lysmelia's next question was a little difficult for him. What kind of red? Well, there were only so many kinds."Hmmm...very dark. Whatever you would call that kind of shade," he replied. "As she's gotten older, it's darkened more." Shards, he wondered what it looked like now.

Best not to go down that road!

He pulled his knees up in front of him and laced his hands together across his shins. "So, what's your specialty?" he asked, trying to find a new topic and defaulting to the only thing he knew.  He frowned, instantly considering it a blunder. Why did he say such stupid things?

Lymselia seemed startled, when her speciality was asked. "I ahh. specialize in Obstention.. Ob-set... Ostend... Obstetrician... Midewifery!" she finally finishes triumphantly. She was rather proud of herself for remembering the ancient word, she'd found it in a old record- a book on such matters. "I went into it after a girl I was friends with had a kid--- well she wasn't really a friend... she was someone who watched over me." she smiles. "I spent summers, helping d-- Vaan with the herds. Birthing runners on the mainlaind, toward's Kerroon.  We owned a small patch, there and its where  I really got into it. Helping the runners sparked  a desire... and watching them try to stands after those first few minutes all new and wobbly." she hmmed at the pleasant memeory.

"Vaan was the family friend- the father of Tyian's baby." she grins. "Tyian was really happy when the baby was born- but... because there wasn't a super skilled healer, something happened. I was little- about ten or so. But I remeber it because Tyian looked soo... lifeless afterwards. I can look back on it and realize what happened- the baby was probably breach, and the they must not have untangled the cord quickly enough. Or something. I wasn't there but... I remeber Tyian, she clung to the little baby for about two hours until one of the other Ladies, managed to explain to Tyian that.. the little one hadn't made it." Her voice was solemn. "A little girl had lost her mother a few hours before. I remember those sheets.." Lymsleia shivered. she remembered those sheets well, and the screams.

"Tyian  choose to  raise the baby as hers and Vaan's. No second thoughts.  Vaan had be carry the little girl. Bright pink thing.. all red and riggling. The child was alive, but her mother, and Tyian had lost her baby, it was a good match. Vaan raised Vyna-that's the little girl- as his own. And Tyian too." She  picked up a blade of grass.

"After that I told myself, I'd do sometihng. And so I became a healer. I can handle most general things, but that's my specialty. Helping women have babies.." she explains blowing on the grass.  She watched the blade of grass waft, and drift as her puff of breath blew it from her hand.

Talian listened in stoic silence, never taking his eyes of of Lym as she spoke. He nodded on occasion or hummed a soft "Mmhmm," to let her know that he was listening, but otherwise he remained quiet and out of the way.

It was a lovely story. He wished he had so valorous a reason for choosing his specialty, but he didn't, and that was that. "Well," he said, "I'll leave that to you, then." It may have been a weak attempt at a joke. "I've never delivered a baby before," he confessed, though he added to himself that he knew all about it though. He'd read plenty of papers on the subject and witnessed it a couple times, but it...wasn't for him. Midwifery was more commonly left to girls anyhow.


He didn't know much about women as people, and he didn't really care much for children. It wasn't an actual dislike; it was more akin to a child who was scared of canines  because they never had one growing up. He was never around them, though he still had a lingering interest in them from his little encounter with Fiora.


"Childbirth is messy business," he said in a mellow tone. "It takes a strong stomach." He had a strong stomach himself, at least for gore...but then again, shouldn't all healers?

He silently noted how she'd started to address this 'Vaan' as something else, something starting with a d. He figured she'd switched for good reason, so he didn't pursue it...but he did notice it. He would remember it.

Lymsleia chuckled. "Childbirth is messy. It's messier when things do NOT go right." she says. "I mean at least animals eat the afterbirth... sooo much easier to deal with, than disposing of it.. though one of my friends said a friend of hers made some kind of 'cake'.. out of it." she looked a little dubiously at Tal.

"A cake.. sounds delicious I guess." she says as she mulls over her last statement. She let the silence hang for a moment and adjusted her setting the in the grass. "So, I am curious. Since journeymen of a various background it'd be interesting to compare notes and share knowledge since,  we're essentially a drift here with only our wits to guide us."

He paused to consider the implication. "...Cakes? Our of afterbirth?" he asked, as if making sure he'd heard correctly before commenting. He quirked his brows in a comical way. "That's...the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," he said, finally chuckling a little bit. That truly was revolting! He shook his head and gave a little shudder. Though, I guess father would approve...waste not, want not and all he thought with a mixture of  mirth and heavily-repressed spite.

"I remember when my youngest sister was born there was a lot of chaos...when I finally entered the hall, that's all I could think of every time childbirth and pregnancy came up in class. It made me want to sink through the floor, thinking about my mother wailing like that."

He flushed a bit. What an awkward topic! Thank Faranth she was changing it.

"Hm. I would exchange notes, if I had anything with me. None of my work made it south with me. I used to have a lot of sketches, though...the craft master back home used to let me poke at cadavers..." he said. Not morbid he reminded himself gloomily. Maybe that wasn't such a smooth transition after all.

He blushed again and cut his eyes away. "I'm...not weird, I swear," he coughed, not realizing how silly he sounded. He was completely serious.

A polite smile. "Most women scream, apparently child birth it /really/ painful.. wel to some degree." she thought about it. "Think about a small melon,and passing it through a whole  thats about... this big." she took  her two hands and faced them togeter, interweaveing the the fingers, her two thumbs crossed. "The space between them, is approximately how big a child needs to pass through." she says in a matter of fact way. She lets the words sink in.

"See why most women scream." she adds. "Admittedly there is something about babies, they.. bend and squish just enough to fit, its kind of the reasons newborns heads are sometimes /really/ funny in terms of their shape. It's squeezing through the small space."

She looked shocked. "You got to poke at cadavers? I mean we rarely did. For most of us it was live action, all the way. I did sometime working with a few mothers all through their pregnancy. Kind of a requirement to walk the tables." She reaches out to touch his hand, but drew it back after a few seconds. "I meant.. knowledge, not necessary literal notes, Tal." she  licked her teeth.

"You ever think since dragons are still around, perhaps other stories are true too?" she asks in an almost conspiratorialy whisper.

He'd read all about childbirth, but he humored her just the same. He knew it could be satisfying to discuss one's chosen field, and he usually liked to hear peoples' more personal account of things. The actual description of childbirth never sounded any better, though! He grimaced a bit as Lys described it. "Well, I'm glad I don't have to worry about it, I suppose," he said. He bit his lip. "My older sister has a couple as well. She used to comment on how painful it was all the time, and how much work it was. Father always accused her to digging for attention, but...he's not a particularly sensitive person." Talian, on the other hand, was.

"And yes," he said, sliding comfortably into the next topic. "I specialized in trauma, so in between emergencies I would work on cadavers, practicing surgery and things like that," he said. "I sometimes got them to myself," he added, showing a distant hint of pride. Not many students got a cadaver to themselves, they tended to have to share with other apprentices.

Sharing knowledge sounded nice. He enjoyed talking about medicine. It was relaxing, something he was both comfortable with and relied on. "...We certainly should. I'm sure we can learn from each other," he said. Her next comment, another sudden shift in topic, left him puzzled. He cocked his head to one side, not unlike a curious canine. "Hm, what other stories do you mean?" he asked in earnest. "I'm not...too familiar with folk stories. But whatever they are, I suppose this," he said, waving his hands about to Katila in general, "-proves that all kinds of things are possible."

She listened to him ramble and for a moment, she seemed confused. "You're father wasn't senstive?" she asks in a slow tone making sure she had heard him correctly.

She seemed almost at loss. "You're so.. gentle- what little I know of you, you're healer, male, probably 18." she says trying to run through her head. "Specialize in trauma. You have had whole cadavers to yourself. And yet you've never heard stories of firelizards..." she scoots closer to him.

Not quite nose to nose, but close enough to be attempting to break down that 'personal boundary wall'. She knows she's crossing a fine line but she's doing it for a reason. "They're like.. small dragons, about the  size of a small canine. Smart-ish. I heard they're like felines.. sort of." she grins. "And people had them once, once. I don't know if they exist any more though..., but you must know some stories. Or we could tell each other stories. Yeah that'd be a fun idea!"

Talian laughed. "Oh no. Father was...the least sensitive, least imaginative person I've ever known. I take more after my mother..."  Then again, he only half-resembled her. His seemingly inborn gentleness was more due to nurture than nature. "Father just always kept me very busy. I went to special classes when  I was little, you see. He didn't believe in wasting time on things like harpers' yarns."

Lymselia's stories about fire lizards inspired some curiosity in him. He craned his neck forward and nodded. "Oh! Oh yes...I've heard them mentioned in passing before, but beyond being tiny dragons, I don't really know much else. I still don't know that much about dragons, either." In all honesty, he was resisting. He didn't want one. She liked to think that if he minimized his contact with them and denied their existence in whatever ways he could, they would stop bothering him. Maybe the hatchlings would be like canines and sense that he didn't like them! That would be convenient.

Still, he had to admit..."That would be pretty neat."

He paused and looked away, taking a moment to breathe deeply and enjoy the scent of summer. A light breeze had picked up, and it still wasn't quite hot. He realized then, in that still moment, that he'd been talking to this girl for quite some time now. He was talking more than usual, more than he ever had at home...and more than he had since his arrival, probably his entire stay combined!

It made him feel better. Time to talk some more.

"Exchange stories? All right," he said softly. "...You first!"