09.Apr.12, 11:31 AM
Breccan tilted her head unconsciously to one side, her mask of sweetness firmly in place despite her turmoil. Would they really kill her if he died on her watch? She could certainly make it look like a result of his illness. There were plenty of plants that would increase or cause a fever, and a few degrees higher would mean he wouldn't be telling anyone anything that made sense. He'd die raving. A warning nudge told her her usually lazy conscience had come in to work today. No matter how she felt personally, S'kef was the Weyrsecond, and good at his job. He was too important to kill.
Her smile shaded towards crooked. This was so like the incident with Jada that had sparked her departure. She'd have been rather pleased to see the hope of the Weyr die of infection -really, it was what she got after ignoring those symptoms for so long- but Jada was too important to kill. And, of course, that time there had been too many witnesses. The problem with poisoning someone was that they often died quite dramatically.
"S'kef," she said, shaking her head like an auntie reprimanding a silly toddler, "Vengeance? I hadn't dreamed of it." She couldn't imagine why he was laughing, when he'd admitted that she really did hold all the power in this situation. Perhaps he didn't think she had it in her...but that was a dangerous thought. That was the kind of thought that made her do things just to prove that she could, but killing him was wrong. Rare though it was for Breccan to bow to morality that wasn't precisely her own personal code, she wouldn't do it.
"I thought flu at first, and incompetence keeping you on your sickbed," she answered, her tone businesslike now, "But unless this is a new varietal I haven't seen up North, I suspect it's not the flu. It's not much like anything I've seen before." It didn't trouble her to make that admission, though typically she disliked to admit when she didn't know something. If she wasn't going to kill him, well, perhaps she could make him worry.
"I know they've been treating your symptoms, and I will too, to try and make you more comfortable," she said brusquely, her expression eloquently speaking of how little she wanted to make him comfortable, "The fever makes me suspect infection, so I'll dose you with antibiotics. I'd also like to know if you've any bug bites or the like, anything that seems swollen or painful or unusual. That could cause a strong reaction if you're allergic, especially, but a poisonous bite alone could bring on your symptoms. The more you can tell me about how you feel, the more effective my help will be."
She rummaged through her bag with purpose this time, setting aside verbena for its antibacterial and analgesic properties, citron to act as an additional antibiotic and to counteract nausea, willow bark to treat his headache, and borage for its generally good effect on the body. After a debate with herself, she added coriander, blackberries, and meadowsweet, partially for their additional helpful properties, but primarily to improve the taste. Faranth, she was so nice.
She ducked out briefly to request hot water, and soon had the dried herbs steeping in a small, tight-woven net. "If the pain's very bad, I can add a drop of fellis," she offered, "Some of my choices will help, but nothing's quite so good as fellis." There was tension all over his body, and she could only imagine it was because he hurt. Or perhaps rigor? Shards, she hoped not.
Her smile shaded towards crooked. This was so like the incident with Jada that had sparked her departure. She'd have been rather pleased to see the hope of the Weyr die of infection -really, it was what she got after ignoring those symptoms for so long- but Jada was too important to kill. And, of course, that time there had been too many witnesses. The problem with poisoning someone was that they often died quite dramatically.
"S'kef," she said, shaking her head like an auntie reprimanding a silly toddler, "Vengeance? I hadn't dreamed of it." She couldn't imagine why he was laughing, when he'd admitted that she really did hold all the power in this situation. Perhaps he didn't think she had it in her...but that was a dangerous thought. That was the kind of thought that made her do things just to prove that she could, but killing him was wrong. Rare though it was for Breccan to bow to morality that wasn't precisely her own personal code, she wouldn't do it.
"I thought flu at first, and incompetence keeping you on your sickbed," she answered, her tone businesslike now, "But unless this is a new varietal I haven't seen up North, I suspect it's not the flu. It's not much like anything I've seen before." It didn't trouble her to make that admission, though typically she disliked to admit when she didn't know something. If she wasn't going to kill him, well, perhaps she could make him worry.
"I know they've been treating your symptoms, and I will too, to try and make you more comfortable," she said brusquely, her expression eloquently speaking of how little she wanted to make him comfortable, "The fever makes me suspect infection, so I'll dose you with antibiotics. I'd also like to know if you've any bug bites or the like, anything that seems swollen or painful or unusual. That could cause a strong reaction if you're allergic, especially, but a poisonous bite alone could bring on your symptoms. The more you can tell me about how you feel, the more effective my help will be."
She rummaged through her bag with purpose this time, setting aside verbena for its antibacterial and analgesic properties, citron to act as an additional antibiotic and to counteract nausea, willow bark to treat his headache, and borage for its generally good effect on the body. After a debate with herself, she added coriander, blackberries, and meadowsweet, partially for their additional helpful properties, but primarily to improve the taste. Faranth, she was so nice.
She ducked out briefly to request hot water, and soon had the dried herbs steeping in a small, tight-woven net. "If the pain's very bad, I can add a drop of fellis," she offered, "Some of my choices will help, but nothing's quite so good as fellis." There was tension all over his body, and she could only imagine it was because he hurt. Or perhaps rigor? Shards, she hoped not.