[G] [P] 734.08.01 | Impromptu Mending

She couldn’t say how she got out unscathed. She couldn’t say how she ended up in the craft hall, tending what wounded stumbled in. Or were carried. The entire night seemed rolled up into the sound of thunder and so much panic. Maybe it’d been because she’d not been a part of the festivities. Maybe she’d just managed to get up and out fast enough. Whatever the reason, she’d been directed by blurred faces and desperate voices to the craft hall. To help as much as she could.

However she could. Sennia had little by way of healer training. She knew about patching up minor cuts and scrapes. Growing up on a farm pretty much isolated required some survivalist know how. But some people were coming in broken and battered, in ways that Sennia couldn’t even process appropriately.

But she had to do something. Anything.

So she was sat in an area and told to tend those sent her way. In whatever way she could. And that’s exactly what Sennia did. There were supplies enough to scrub out wounds and tend them. Her hands even remained steady no matter the amount of people passing by her. Around her. All in various states of pain and confusion. It wasn’t until sometime later that she was ushered off to the side, forced to drink some water, eat some dried meat, then pushed back to her place to work.

Her entire world had been reduced to hands moving her, voices shouting orders, and the bloody movements of her hands. Shock kept her on her feet long after exhaustion would’ve claimed her. Not even adrenaline could save her forever though. She found herself being brought back to reality, recognizing faces if not names, toward noon.

Still there was no rest. But there was less a sense of haste as she moved from Rider and weyrfolk with a bag of supplies that was kept stuffed by others helping out. She rounded on a table that had been hastily cleared off, where a Rider was sitting. It appeared someone had hastily tended to his hand and it would need a more thorough look over. Sennia, near dead on her feet, tried to smile despite the dirt and blood smeared on her cheek. “Hey,” she rasped, voice hoarse in her dry throat. “I’m Sennia. Let me see what I can do.”

The throbbing in his hand went unnoticed as T'drin stared blankly at the people moving about in front of him. The image of the dead boy and his dragon still haunted him, would always haunt him, and thoughts shifted about in his mind. It wasn't all to long ago that he and Gelabrith were that young, that small. The dead could have easily been him and his dragon. Sheer luck had kept him alive when the heavy piece of roof had fallen. Had Gelabrith not been hyper alert… He shook his head. He couldn't dwell on thoughts of things that could have been. He was alive. Gelabrith was alive and that was all that mattered, all that could matter. His chest tightened at that instant at the consuming wave of love his dragon sent coursing through his mind. They were alive!

Thoughts of death and little blue dragons were banished with that love and T'drin cursed at the sharp pain in his broken hand. He glanced down at the swollen and discolored fingers that peeped out from a makeshift bandage. The greenrider who had bandaged his hand, hadn't had the knowledge to properly set the bones and without a proper treatment, it was highly likely T'drin would lose the use of it. Might as well cut the damned thing off then. It would be useless to him if he couldn't move the fingers.

Would you stop?

He started at the sharp words, Yeah… Yeah, I'll stop. It would appear that his errant griping bothered Gelabrith and the bronze was becoming more agitated from his place outside the building. He'd wanted to come inside the building with T'drin, unwilling to have his rider to far away from him. It had taken an argument from T'drin and a chastisement from a harried looking man to get the big bronze to stay outside. Gelabrith had settled for the roof above the chair T'drin was finally forced to sit in.

And so he sat.

And sat. His injury wasn't nearly life threatening nor was he bleeding so the people in charge of the hall had told him to wait, someone would be along shortly to see to his hand. His impatience was rising when the darker eyed, tired girl came to him. Her voice rasped at him and he grimaced as he looked up. She looked barely old enough to stand much less tend to the wounded. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he demanded sharply. Stop, T'drin. Let the girl look at your hand. He growled at his dragon's words. "Its broken," he grunted as he held out the purple hand.

His words hit her with all the force of a physical smack. She hesitated in her approach to him, and it took her exhausted mind several breaths to process that not only had he asked her something, he’d snapped at her. Sennia wasn’t sure how to react, how to deal with someone gruffly questioning her. If others had done it before, she’d been in the daze of shock. Most had been thankful for the attention, not upset it was her who would be tending them. While she recovered, T’drin continued.

Thankful he presented his injured hand, and that her muggy thoughts were not required to look over his injury, Sennia carefully unwrapped the makeshift rag that had been wound around it. Her stricken face was already pale, her eyes already rimmed by exhaustion, so he couldn’t see her look of shock that he’d not been tended to sooner. Like they had all the time in the world! She was reminded of the catastrophe then shook her head, sighing softly. Whomever had wrapped it up had meant well, but such a loose bandage would do little for broken bones. “Yeah, it is,” was all she could say lamely in response. Gingerly gripping his wrist, she invaded his space to get a better look at it. Sennia knew the basics of setting bones – desperate times and the healers had given her a quick and dirty version of it. Most had been shouted a rudimentary lesson or twelve in the chaos, where there were too many broken bodies and so much blood. There were people who were bent in ways that she could not understand, others screaming in their pain as broken bone jut from flesh. Complications that required amputation, internal surgery, and far more skilled hands than she had. Past knowledge of setting bones when their bovine had broken its surfaced, reinforced by the Healer’s basic tenant – broken bones needed to be set straight and wrapped so they would not be moved. But a hand was not a thigh or arm. There were so many ways to make a mistake. However, she also knew if she didn’t fix it, the odds someone else could be spared to do so was slim. Recalling the healer’s quick lesson, she glanced up at T’drin. “This is going to hurt more. I have to make sure the bones are set straight… And that involves moving them around some before I can set it. Do you understand?”

Even as she asked, she was gingerly positioning herself so her side was to him and she could get a better grip on his hand with both of hers. A different time, before this night, and she might be awkward about being so close to someone. Essentially between his knees now. But she was too tired to be worried, too concerned over his hand to really notice, and focused on the task. If he wanted use of his hand, she’d better do what she could now before something set wrong or never set at all. Only once she was positioned where it would be easiest to work did she look at him, waiting for his go ahead.

T'lian? I know you are not feeling well, but you're going to want to see this said Khaduceth. The brown dragon's tone hung tenuously between disbelief and very, very dry humor. It was so dry, in fact, that Tal didn't quite believe the dragon actually found it funny.

I can only imagine what it is,  but I'm on the verge of throwing up here. It had been a terrible day. Tal had been awake for less than an hour, and his head was pounding and spinning so intensely that he could barely walk in a straight line. He wasn't sure what time he'd finally collapsed or how long he'd slept. The previous night was like a fresh wound that didn't quite ache yet, but he knew by looking at it that it would soon. Such a disaster seemed unprecedented in his mind, but it hurt even more when he reminded himself that these people had already seen it once before. Wait, twice! First their plague, which Tal pitied them for in spite of past bitterness towards their methods, and the storm that had followed some turns after. What turn had it been? For once, his sharp mind could not quite grasp the date...

T'lian! The dragon's insistent voice was soft, but inescapable. Tal groaned as he finished off his klah and stormed into the craft hall, dourly intent on resuming his work. He looked and felt haggard, but he was determined to push his way though his weariness and horror. There was work to be done, lives to save! He wasn't so foolish to blame himself for all of the lives that had already slipped through the cracks today, but he would not rest while the deaths piled up.

Okay, so he wouldn't rest unless it involved passing out. Better to get a little sleep in to avoid risking foolish mistakes. Now that he was awake, though? He was ready to go. He trudged down the hall, calming himself and begining to focus his mind as he walked. It was so easy for him to lose himself in a crisis. It was so easy to lock on to the task at hand and let mortal pain float away. He would think about his own minor injuries later, and the mental wounds even later as he drifted off to sleep. He couldn't let his own baggage get in the way now. First, he would worry about others. It was his job, and in a strange way, he lived for crisis.

T'lian, stop daydreaming. Turn to your left. Now.

Tal hissed and did as his dragon recommended almost without thinking. "What is it,  Kha-...!" he shouted as he burst into the room, only to be treated with an unwelcome sight. The young man froze, tawny eyes falling upon the injured rider and the young woman seeing to him. He recognized the telltale crumple of a broken hand, and he certainly recognized unsanitary conditions!

"What the shards are you doing?!"

His incredulous outburst came much louder than he'd planned. Perhaps he was still a bit tired. He rocked back on his heels, eyes narrowed at the pair as if glowering at a tunnel snake. "...Have you washed with redwort? Have you tied your hair back? Shards, are you even a healer?" He was apt to spit unintended blunt questions at anyone who stumbled in his way in the (now rubble) healing hall, but today he was especially unamused. It wasn't that he desired or even intended to be cruel, but he was so outraged at the notion of a non-healer attempting anything so serious that his typical tenderness and non-confrontational nature passed him by in exchange for pure...volume. She couldn't be a healer, could she? He didn't recognize her face! He knew everyone, unless someone had snuck someone else in under his nose! Or was his roster incomplete? Who was he going to have strong words with once this was done?!

He was so busy running away with crazy conclusions that he simply stared at them slacked-jawed for a number of seconds, looking betrayed and dumbfounded.

"...Step away!" he finally barked. He waved one hand dramatically and swooped over to them, seeking to save the battered dragonrider from what could only be a fate of crippledness and chronic pain. "I'm not sure who you are, ma'am, but do explain to me what qualifies you to set broken bones! Surely you understand that the human hand has twenty-seven regular bones and a number of smaller ones embedded in it's connective tissue....And pushing even one out of place could severely damage this poor man's hand, right? Have you ever set a hand before?"

I like it when you throw your rank around Khaduceth said smugly. Tal realized quite suddenly that he was doing exactly that. B'jin would be proud. Larrikith, too. T'lian, though? He was suddenly embarrassed. He blushed like a crazy person and looked to the rider.

"I am very sorry. May I have a look?"

Sweat broke out on his upper lip as she positioned herself to grip his hand. The needle sharp pain that the movement caused brought Gelabrith to attention and the big bronze growled from his vantage point, forked tail twitching into view and out again. Perhaps having this untried girl look at his hand wasn't the best of ideas. "I'm not daft, girl. I know it's gonna hurt," his growl an echo of Gelabrith's. "Just get it done," he said and braced himself for the pain.

His eyes squeezed shut, he had no desire to watch with morbid curiosity as she tried to set the bones that had been crushed beneath debris. He had enough morbid thoughts rolling through his mind that the sight of shifting bones had no room. The master healer is here, Gelabrith drawled in his slow manner and T'drin's eyes popped open on the healers exclamation. His shoulders slumped with his relief as he took in the pallid and thin form of T'lian.

He could only watch as the healer took the guise of a weathered wingleader as he dressed the girl down for doing something she apparently had no business doing. He gave a appreciative nod at T'lian's words. It was a surprise to him that she had not done any of the things T'lian demanded, he was no healer, he had no idea what was to be expected. He'd only thought the girl looked entirely too tired and too young to be preforming any type of healing on anyone.

He grimaced as he shifted about to move the girl away from him. He'd have to catch her name later, he knew she was a candidate but he couldn't recall her name. Turning he held out the hand to the healer, "Seems to be a pretty popular thing, giving it a look, so I suppose you might as well." You should be a little more happy now, T'drin. Now that the master healer is here I'm sure he will see to it you don't lose your hand, the bronze rumbled from outside and T'drin fought not to toss a middle finger his way.

T'lian reached out to delicately inspect the bronzerider's hand. "That's quite a break," he commented, shaking his head with concern. "lf this was set incorrectly, you'd either be crippled or lose it. The hand bones are small and fragile, and they fit together in very particular ways...this will not be simple. Give me a moment to wash up and get some painkillers for you." His businesslike rigidity started to fade in favor of his regular bedside mannerism. He wasn't even paying attention to see whether or not the girl was still present. He was still embarrassed and a little bit ashamed, but it was well worth it to save this poor man's hand!

He walked away and started to rummage about. Fellis appeared, perching lightly on the counter and eyeing the bronzerider with fear. He edged as close to T'lian as he dared, while Tansy appeared behind him and took a somewhat closer position, her little eyes latched snugly to T'drin. The tiny queen chirped, as if alerting T'lian to the man's need. "Shush," he said, nudging her away with one elbow. He spun around, his arms now filled with various bottles, pouches, and bundles. "My nurses," he said dryly.

He shooed the fire lizards again before moving over to T'drin and setting the items down. He then bustled off to call for a pot of boiling water, which he expected someone would hurry along with in a few minutes.

"Now then," he said. "I'm going to give you some fellis juice to start." Fellis chirped in recognition of his name, earning a small smile from T'lian. That always perked him up. It was so cute! "Afterwards, I'll cleanse your hand and both of mine with some redwort wash, and then we'll work on getting it set. I'll need to feel around and make sure each bone is where it's supposed to be, so it'll take a few minutes I'll try to keep the pain as manageable as possible." He looked p from now now perfectly arranged supplies and smiled at T'drin. "Do you have any questions?"

T’drin winced when T’lian gripped his hand to look at the break. It came to no real surprise when the healer shook his head and said what he did. When T’drin had seen his hand crushed he had realized the severity of the situation and with Gelabrith’s loud urging he had wasted no time in trying to find someone to look at it. He’d ended up waiting in line, hand throbbing the entire time for someone to look at it and fate, the fickle bitch, had sent him a girl who knew nothing. It was rare luck that she hadn’t succeeded in setting the break or it was quite possible he would have been crippled for life, given the reaction T’lian had, had.

He murmured his agreement. He didn’t want to voice his bone deep fear, fear that slapped him in the face when T’lian confirmed his suspicions. His eyes were dark and brow furrowed when the healer moved away to wash and grab the painkillers. He had half a mind to forgo them, never liking the lack of control they caused but a particularly sharp and painful jolt; T’drin decided just this once wouldn’t hurt anything. He was amused when the firelizards appeared. He didn’t mind them, never having grown up with the knowledge that they were the first to die from the plague. It helped Gelabrith had a bizarre fascination with the little creatures. It’s not bizarre and I want one. Maybe a little gold as pretty as this one, the bronze inserted, earning a snort from T’drin.

“Lovely nurses,” he said with a chuckle and was again amused again when the little blue perked at the word fellis, “Fellis is his name?” He took the offered painkiller and downed it without thought. If he thought about it, he’d rethink the idea of painkillers and the grumbling and rumbling from over head indicated that doing so would be a bad idea. Questions! He only had a few! “Have you been a healer long? Gelabrith says you’re a master,” not that he looked old enough to be a master, “And will I have full use of this hand when you’re finished?” He gritted his teeth and waited for T’lian to begin to set the bones.

It didn't take long for T'lian to arrange the various washes and mixtures that he needed. Once T'drin was safely medicated and Tansy was pushed out of the way, Tal turned back to the young bronzerider and gently took his hand, ready to begin the procedure. "It depends on your definition," he replied. "...I've been in the craft since I was young, but I was awarded honorary mastership in 230."

That long ago now? Shards, he'd wasted turns of his career in this miserable jungle. He didn't dwell on it for more than a moment, prodded back to enthusiasm by the nice stack of papers he'd managed to produce on local plantlife. He'd come to the realize that Katila's unknown flora was a  hidden blessing, and he still had every plan and ambition to return to Healer Hall to present it the very moment he was able. That would be awfully rewarding.  Some people studied in distant holds, but he'd managed to carve himself one hell of a distance learning experience.

It'll be worth it one day he reminded himself.  His thoughts drifted to Khaduceth, as well as his adoptive father B'jin. He thought about how he'd almost never met them, and he smiled widely.

"All right," he whispered soothingly to T'drin. Then, he delicately felt out the first correction and applied the necessary pressure in one firm press.

Tansy and Fellis both cringed. Catching a glimpse of their sympathy pain, he found his new topic of distracting healer banter. "...And yes. His name is Fellis. He's soothing, you see," he said with light and somewhat awkward humor. He pushed on another bone. The whole purpose was to keep T'drin nice and focused on conversation, at least as much as he could.

"The gold is Tansy," he added afterwards. He didn't elaborate on that one, though he was still proud of himself for the tastelessness of it. He made a sport out of laughing pain away, and his own was especially hilarious these days. He smiled to T'drin and quickly popped the last two bones into place, giving the man's hand a quick once-over with his light fingers to make sure the task was done. "There you are. How does it feel?"