Compos Mentis

Xanadu Weyr - Clearing

A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places.

The cliff looms imposingly on three sides, stretching upwards all the way up the side of the rock edifice where, high above on Xanadu's Star Stones, the ever-present watchdragon sits on the lonely peak. Directly south is the hatching arena, the large round complex taking up a large portion of the perimeter, a line of trees visible beyond it. Southeast are wide steps leading up to the caverns and eastwards is the large entrance to the Infirmary. Somewhat north of the infirmary is a human-sized archway that has a frequent quantity of traffic — it leads to the Wandering Wherry Tavern. Tucked neatly under the arch, to one side is a tiny wood-frame shop bearing the name 'Petals and Pots Garden Shop'. Southwest lies cliffs where windows for the administrative offices have been cut. Underneath them are the entrances to the crafters complex while north and west along the cliff's base, a broad path leads to the feeding grounds. Due north is the spacious trail that leads to the rest of the Weyr - the meadow, the forest beyond. At the far edge of the clearing, beside the trail leading to the forest sits a clocktower.

Versae's ship has come in. This is not a metaphor, nor a figure of speech. The ship, on which the journeyman healer was traveling to this posting, has arrived on the docks. She, since this is her destination, has gathered her things and disembarked. The healer doesn't have much; a pack on her back, a bag in one hand, a stout stick in the other. Maybe it's for whacking anyone who gets too close? Someone at the docks pointed her across the beach to the steps, so up them she went. After that, she crossed the meadow by following the signs of civilization… which have brought her to the edge of the clearing. Here she pauses, surveying the situation in the hopes it'll show her where to go next.

A weyr of busy-busy folk sure can drain a lot of klahpots! After all, they need every drop to function throughout the long, busy workday. So why is it that a silver-blonde woman steps through the Weyr cavern opening bearing two full and untapped pots, takes a single step to where some bushes cling to the base of the towering monolith cliff-face and pours them both out? Who ever her supervisor is, she'll probably hear from her! But no, it looks as if her klah waste is self-sanctioned as the right shoulder of her tapestried suit jacket bears the headwoman's knot. She doesn't seem worried about the klah, but the floating downy-like seed puffs floating in the spring afternoon on the other hand… Those get a glare and a mutter as she swipes with a forearm at the things that alight under her nose, clinging there as she turns to go back inside.

The klah's probably not good for the plants, but Versae didn't go to farmcraft hall. It's not exactly good for humans, either, but they certainly do enjoy it and make use of it, and she's not about to try to make a crusade to stop them. Stopping thread was probably easier. What's more interesting, at least from the perspective of the newly arrived healer, is that there's a person with the sort of knot that usually means competence or pretensions of it, who can probably sanction directions to a place to sleep as well as wasted klah. Versae gives chase! She's got an uneven gait, made more obvious at speed. That stick isn't just for whacking people. "'Scuse me!" Her own knot - the healer one - is there somewhere. Probably under the strap of her pack.

The klah is definitely not good for the plants. There might've been other pots in the past seven dumped upon them, for they aren't looking so good. How can one tell? Well, for one thing, it's spring and leaves are still in the just-unfurled pale stage and yet the bushes are dropping them. Also littered about the base are tiny, unopened flower buds. No doubt some gardener (or even her own sister) will eventually note it and fuss over it, wondering why the shrubs have developed ill-health. It's true that the presence of a knot doesn't guarantee competence, but in this case, well, the headwoman is quite capable of her position, especially in delegating tasks she'd rather not do. Whether she minds doing this one is anyone's guess, though she's muttering about brewing more of it as she turns to go in. The voice halts her; she turns to peer over her shoulder, iceblue eyes sweeping over the clearing to see who- ah! They rest upon the woman, flicking up-down over her form, taking in the pack and walking(?) stick. It screams either hiker or newcomer but she doesn't ask that, the corners of her glossed lips curl slightly in a small, cool smile. Politely, "Yes?"

After the hike up those stairs with this pack, Versae would take delusions if they came with a comfortable place to sit. Actual competence, well… that's a bonus! "I'm new here from the Hall," she explains. "Where do I check in?" Versae can wait. She doesn't mind waiting. Waiting means she can set down her pack and probably even find a chair. What she minds is the prospect of looking through every one of those buildings and caverns to try to find the right one.

Darsce turns fully around, though a shapely brow lifts at the question. "You check in with me; I'm Darsce." No title added, but her own knot will speak her headowman's rank, when she lifts a pot so she can flick a fingertip at it negligently. She scans the woman's shoulders briefly - first one, then the other for- is that a knot sticking out from underneath that pack strap? The bit of purple clues her in, but she asks anyway, with an amused drawl, "Which hall?" Though it's not stopping her from procedure and she points with the same forefinger across the clearing to the crafter's complex, "Depending on your rank, you'll either be in the dorms or the journeymen and masters hall." She can give directions to various and sundry places also! Give her two points. With a tilt of her head towards the cavern entrance, she adds, "Food and bathing caverns are in there." And presumably more klah eventually. Hopefully palatable klah.

Wonder of wonders, Versae isn't being foisted off on someone else or told to go cool her heels! The only downside is that it means she needs to keep wearing her pack for the moment, but she can deal. "I'm Versae," she answers, followed by the more actually relevant part. "Of Healer's." She turns her head to follow that pointing finger, gives the building a slight nod before looking back to Darsce with a faint smirk. "I'm a journeyman, though I can certainly take a cot for now." And won't that be fun for the apprentices? Educational, too! Just like Versae is being educated as to the finer points of this Weyr. Beds, food, bathing… all the best.

Has Versae been foisted off much in her life that she's expecting it? Perhaps, were one of the assistant headwomen on hand and Darsce sufficiently busy, she might've delegated an escort to her new quarters, but the headwoman doesn't appear at all put out by the arrival of Versae. This happens routinely enough and it is, after all, her job. "Welcome Versae of Healers," the headwoman says drolly, her smile growing a touch. Journeyman, eh? She shakes her head and assures her dryly, "That won't be necessary. We've ample private rooms prepared in the journeymen's hall." With another tilt of her head to the caverns, "Follow me? My office is this way. I'll assign you your room key." Versae'll need to lug that pack for a few more steps but at least she'll get to sit down?

Perhaps Versae will tell those tales another time? She's certainly not intending to just now. "Better yet," Versae says to those assurances, and smiles. This is already shaping up to be one of the better postings she's had! She adds a, "Thank you," as she shoulder-shrugs in an attempt to adjust that pack before following. The end is in sight! Surely she can persevere a little longer and see this through. Room, board, bathing… "That and a wave in the direction of the infirmary, and I can probably find the rest by waiting to trip on it."

"Certainly," the headwoman says briskly as she turns to lead the way, her heels clicking on the stone floors of the caverns. "Did you just get off the ship?" It's a guess; she knows of the ship, but of course Versae could have as easily arrived a'dragonback. Her professional smile warms a touch as she glances over at the other. "You must be tired. This won't take long." She places those klahpots on a table - she'll be back to brew more in a few moments. With a graceful gesture to the entrance to the administration wing, she steps back to allow Versae to precede her. "My office is the first on the left. The steward's is just across from mine; you'll need to see him about your salary. But you can do that later." When she trips. "What'd you say your specialty was?"


Xanadu Weyr - Headwoman's Office

This grand office belongs to Xanadu's illustrious Headwoman. With walls of mahogany, dusted and polished to an elegant shine, this office gleams of cleanliness and organization. An entire wall is covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves, upon which are catalogued each and every tithe delivery, complaint, report and gathering organized by the Lower Caverns Staff. A fairly simple desk sits off center of the office, made of the same red wood that the walls are built from and behind it sits a hard, high backed chair.
A large rug, woven of the same design found in the Weyrleaders' Office upstairs can be seen on the floor, greeting those who enter this office for whatever reason with the crest of Xanadu Weyr, making it hard to forget where exactly you are. Glow lamps are situated here and there, but the largest of which sits upon the clean surface of the Headwoman's desk, kept neat with the writing utensils situated off to the side.

"I did," Versae says to the ship. "Transferred to it at Rubicon River, and I have to say, that leg felt longer than the one from South Boll. Probably because the ship was half the size." Versae snorts, because she most certainly does not have the makings of a sailor, then nods. "That I am." Her duties don't start until tomorrow, right? If they're supposed to, this healer will be taking a sickday and they can just dock her pay once she's got it. The steward's office gets a glance and a nod, but she's got no immediate need for the marks. Not like she does for a bed, so she heads on into Darsce's office and for the guestly chairs to shrug off her pack. Ahhhh, her shoulders. It's like she can stand up straight again! …so she sits down. "General practice," she says as she looks back to Darsce. "My secondary's mindhealing."

"Voyages are slow," Darsce agrees sagely, as one who's been on at least one of them. She doesn't regale Versae with her story either, though she does sympathize, "The cabins can be quite… tight." She tacks on a heartfelt, "And the toilets suck!" Because sitting in a cramped closet on an wooden plank overlapping the ocean with a hole cut into it while the cold, cold sea sprays your butt… well, 'nuff said. If anyone asks Darsce where's the newest-arrived healer, the headwoman will shrug mutely or quip something like 'tripping around Xanadu questionmark', like she doesn't know the healer's probably sacked out in her own quarters on a soft, warm mattress. Darsce follows Versae into her office, steps around her desk and sits, swivelling her seat to unlock the cabinet of keys, nodding absently to the answer she wasn't really all that interested in, because small talk, professionalism and all that. GP healer, check. Secondary… m….i….ndhealer?! Cue record-scratching halt to Darsce's world as her hand freezes on the way to that key. Does Versae's posting actually count if she doesn't get that key? "Wh-u-u-u-t?!" She blinkblinks over at the poor innocent healer and stammers, "Butbutwhywe-" She coughs, then says carefully, "We have a mindhealer already. Did, ah, they feel we needed another one?"

Slow and swaying! Which is even more of a problem when… well. At least Versae could still use that stick for whacking people. She nods to all those points of Darsce's, and adds, "I like the vertical walls here. Nice trait in a wall." Not that she knew just how much she appreciated them until she lived without, belowdecks where they were curved. Now… oh, how she appreciates them. She'll appreciate a bed that doesn't rock beneath her even more than that. This chair's a nice start. It's a surface, it's flat, it's decently comfortable but not so cozy she's inclined to fall asleep on it. Sleep, like numbweed for the mind. Which… she'd know? Being a mindhealer and all. Versae smiles faintly for Darsce's sputtering reaction. It's like that subcraft is one of the least popular! Amazing how people who don't think they're broken don't want to be fixed. She waits - with an amused look - for Darsce to form actual words that make genuine sentences. "Do you?" she asks in return. "I can run a therapy circle if you bring some klah… but really, I'd been planning to deal with sniffles and scrapes."

Or birds. Whackabird. It's like whackamole? Hey, voyages are also boring. Darsce nods slowly about those curved walls, and eyes the other young woman like… dude, that bad? "Especially if you're going to be climbing them," she quips facetiously. Her job does sometimes have her climbing the walls. See on her grandfather's double-hulled ship the floors belowdecks were built level except in the cargo hold (not that Darsce ever went there). It might've been a bigger ship than the one Versae was on for that last leg? She continues to stare at Versae, but at least her hand resumes it's journey to select that key. She might admit (to the right person) she's broken, but fix her? Sometimes the cure just ain't worth it. Does she? "No!" Emphatically said as she hands that key over, reluctantly, the player might add. Then she smiles, a touch wickedly, "But our mindhealer does. Name's Cyrus. Very unhealthy habits. Workaholic. He's a recluse. No friends, no social life. Low self esteem too because he's sure the women here will all hate him." Not that he's met more than…ahhh… three? And two of those two haven't exactly… nice to him. "Mostly what he does is throw crumpled records on the floor. I think he has anxiety issues. I'll be happy to bring you klah while you fix him?" She smirks, suddenly happy Versae is here. This posting might actually… be productive.

Climbing? Versae smirks, shaking her head. "I left High Reaches for a reason." Which has hardly anything to do with the mountains there, but she can pretend. "I'll stay on level ground, thank you much." Though her gratitude may be premature, if… oh, good! Darsce is reaching for that key again. Versae may yet manage to get in range of a bed before she falls over. Gratitude for that - and anticipation of a proper night's sleep - adds to her smile as she accepts it. No? Mindhealer not required? "Good." Or maybe that's for the fact she's actually gotten the key safe in her hand, fingers curling around it to prevent takebacks. She raises an eyebrow at the description of this mindhealer, then she raises it further as she keeps listening. "Is this a mindhealer or a mindhealing textbook?" she finally asks. "Either way… I don't take patients that don't want treatment." One corner of her mouth tugs up into a smile. "…motivation is key." It's incidental that she reaches for her walking stick as she says that, really it is. Just, they're almost done here and she's ready to head out! Surely nothing to do with whacking anyone.

Left the High Reaches with a purpose? The headwoman nodnods comprehendingly, nay it borders on enthusiasm, only well… it's Darsce - she's more… affirmatively firm when she does that. She ran from Ierne for a reason, so in a (surely) limited way, she gets that. The key, oh that's almost placed reverently, rather than dropped into Versae's palm. Takebacks? Oh no worries there! She all but reaches to curl the other healer's fingers about that key and presses them over it. Doooon't leave, now! Remain and be… a sane mindhealer pleaseprettyplease? But wait. No… treatment for those who don't want it??? Works for Darsce! "Oh he's real," is the assurance, made with that sort of dry, 'wish it were a dream' sort of assurance. "Hey, you… could you possibly rub off on him? Becaaaause he seems to think we're all his… patients… whether we want to be or not." What's that quiet snort? That'd be Darsce, offended by healer ethics having been previously breached. Or maybe it's her hyperventilating a wee bit with the remembered feeling of being cornered by a bull-in-china-shop mindhealer. That stick? Versae could apply it to a colleague and Darsce wouldn't mind one bit! "Sleep well." She smirks, "They won't be wondering where you are until tomorrow night." Because the arrival-of-healer form will not be in the headwoman's outbox until then. Who knows when it hits the infirmary master's desk - or the steward's. Though Darsce may mention it to that particular man in the privacy of their cottage with the very pleased announcement that they've a new journeyman healer who will be seeing him 'when she's rested from her exhausting journey.' Versae? Welcome to Xanadu! You might just be Darsce's new best (only)friend!

Maybe this 'Cyrus' is meant as an example of what not to do? It's like those stories High Reachian mothers tell that end with children getting kidnapped by renegades because they didn't say please and thank you. Beware (and eat your vegetables!) or you could end up like that. Which means Versae is… hah! Yeah, that just proves the whole concept as ridiculous. She snorts softly at the avowal of Cyrus's reality. "I'll believe it when I see it." Her tone's amused and only faintly disbelieving - because really, Darsce is not a qualified mindhealer to be diagnosing any of that, but Versae certainly will be seeing this fellow for herself - especially if he's around the infirmary anything like as much as that 'workaholic' descriptor seems to imply. Her eyebrows lift at Cyrus's patient list. "If you're crazy, sure." She gives Darsce a quick once-over. "Seem sane enough to me." Versae is using a very particular definition of crazy. Non compos mentis. Unable to coherently hold a conversation. That sort of crazy. There's a great deal of broken one can be without being that crazy. Hitting people with sticks, though… that's not treatment (except in very specialized circumstances). In fact, it's usually the opposite, which means Versae… could? At least according to some readings of professional ethics. Oh, loopholes. Also? Sleep. Versae smiles quite happily for that as she shoulders her pack again. "I will," she assures Darsce. "Thank you." Tomorrow, she'll take the opportunity to explore the Weyr and trip over a few things. Right now, she's got a nap to take. Fourteen hours or so sounds about right…

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