Sigam's in Stitches

This log occurs after Finding F'yr.


Xanadu Weyr – Infirmary

The infirmary here is intended for human care. It is spotless and smells of disinfectant, cots are lined up against one wall, a curtain can be pulled to give some privacy to the occupants of the cots if they so desire. A cabinet stands off against another wall, instruments and medications stored against when they will be needed. A couple of curtained off beds are used for examinations of patients and the treatment of minor injuries which won't require long term care. A desk with chair is just off of the doorway for the healer to sit and catch up on record keeping after a long days work.

The infirmary is bustling with activity, most of the cots are taken and people treated, although a few stragglers enter now and then. A triage area is set up at the far end of the room so the inpatients are not disturbed by the noises of incoming and outgoing. Screens have been placed between the triage area and the cots to ensure some semblance of privacy for those who must remain in here.

F'yr was brought in earlier by two weyrlings, carried seeing that she's still unconscious. But thankfully someone's already tended to her headwound first, having stitched up the little gash fast enough to stop the bleeding, which was looks quite bad from what one can tell of her blood-soaked shirt. But head wounds are like that. A young Healer woman is still tending to her wrist, probably hoping to patch that up before she wakes.

"Besides," Sigam is saying with the lofty air of one that is chattering out of sheer exhaustion, "if Lory was here I would'a seen her. Her green ain't all that easy to hide, big old spiky headknobs and the super serious strutting and everything. Nope. Sticks out like a sore thumb." Looking comfortably woozy, the entire left side of his head plastered flat with dried rain-diluted blood, the Dragonhealer is hanging off the shoulders of an Iernian bluerider, eyes tired but hard as he tries to concentrate on taking one step at a time. "Man, they don't waste time setting shop up here, either," he mutters under his breath to R'iahn as he eyes the screens, but seems reluctant to call attention to himself. It's a /flesh wound/, really. Honest!

R'iahn chuckles faintly at his companion, shaking his head. "She does indeed." The man's tone is fond. "I'll bring her to visit soon, yeah? Or -" Here, he's mischievous. "Maybe I'll drag you off to Ierne when this mess passes. I've got a bottle of brandy that has your name on it, Sigam." He pats the dragonhealer's back, and eyes the screens around the place warily, then glances around for a healer. "Seems so. Right. Let's go find somebody to fix you, lad. Get you back out there so you can maybe knock sense into my dragon before he breaks something. I think he's…trying to move rocks somewhere close. That's all he'd say. Ugh."

Aeryn steps out from behind the screen with an armload of bandages and other supplies, moves towards the counter, grey eyes flash up towards the pair entering, flickering over them. The blood all over the one a telltale sign as to which might need the most attention. The supplies are placed on the countertop as she takes quick, smooth steps towards them. "Hello." Despite the seriousness of her day, the smile she has is wide and warm. "I almost thought you weren't coming. A lady doesn't like being stood up, you know." Yes, she's joking, her eyes crinkle with humor. Someone has to keep things light around here. She gestures the bleeding one to an empty seat beside the counter, flickering a glance at the older Rider. "Are you hurt too?"

"You do that. It's been too long since I've gotten to hang with you old farts," Sigam drawls with a chuckle, eyes roving over and over the Infirmary until he finally notices Aeryn approaching them. "Hi," the Dragonhealer returns, a small frown tugging down the center of his eyebrows. "You were… expecting us?" B-but… Thea hadn't sent her firelizard, right? And this girl wasn't ugly… Ugh, he was so confused. "Right, sitting," he says instead of asking more questions, taking the seat she's offered him. Riah's the subject of another grin. "Ierne, by the way, sounds fantastic. Would be nice to have a vacation, I'm tired of getting the crap kicked out of me." This he says wearily eyes rolling back over towards the Healer. "Pff. He's hurt in his /mind/." One finger twirls around the right side of his scalp. Craaaazy.

Aeryn's lips quirk in an amused smile at the Rider's comment, her eyes slide towards the bloody one, "It he, now? And Chaton just stepped out. What a pity." One eye drops in a wink. It doesn't take long with the mindhealer for one to know the boy -needs- one himself. She shakes her head as she moves over towards the younger man. "I'm Journeywoman Aeryn." It is pleasantly said as she bends to peer at the wound, an eyebrow lifts as she waits to get his name. A she steps to wash her hands, then coats them with redwort, she asks over her shoulder, "Someone kick you in the head then?" If he's getting the crap kicked out of him? It's just as good a guess as any.

R'iahn flashes Aeryn a tired grin. "Took some convincing." He admits pleasantly. "But I got him here." This is set back in his usual growly tone, with a still-fond glance for his companion. "Not badly. Going to get back out there." Before he does, though, he levels Sigam with a grin. "Yeah, well." The bluerider snorts. "We're old, but you're…bleeding." Because he's mature like that, you see? "Nobody'll kick the crap outta you there. Except maybe old Tec, but he's just sore that you left him with the new kid." This is gentler, with some amusement, as he starts to back away quietly. "Not any more." As for the dragonhealer's last, with a feral grin. "Well met, Journeywoman Aeryn. I think he said a branch hit him, but I hear he picks fights with dragons these days. You might wanna make sure he's entirely sane." The grin grows smirkish, as Riah flashes Sigam a wink. "See you later, Sig. I'm going to go make sure Jae's not killing himself. Thank you, Journeywoman — I apologize for dumping him on you." And, without even waiting for that checkup he promised, Riah strolls out, whistling. Oh my.

"Eugh," Sigam shudders with all the delicacy of a wet dog. "I wouldn't wish that kid on my worst enemy. He really did transfer out then?" The words are said with an undercurrent of 'good riddance.' "Be careful, Riah. I don't wanna have to scrape Jae's guts off a cliffside." Like he's a great one to talk. "Hnf! I'm bleeding but it's you that looks like a fish!" Touche! "Eh, well, he'll get over it. If the new kid can keep Jaesriuth together, he can't be all bad." Sig's dark eyes level back over to Aeryn, and a real grin replaces the mocking one that seems to be reserved for the bluerider. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sigam. Dragonhealer," he says, waving his hand to the patch on his shoulder dismissively. "And naw, I was kidding, I-" But Riah explains for him, and Sigam folds his arms, face crumpling like an angry kid's. "Sure, sure, steal all my glory and then run away. Your mom's a dump!" The man's voice rises with each cheery stride R'iahn takes out of the Infimary before he slumps back into his seat with a pout. "Do I have to get stitches?"

"Not badly, hmm?. Those sorts of tings tend to get worse given time and over-doing of heroics. I'll be seeing you later, no doubt." Aeryn says to R'iahn's back with a knowing smile. She doesn't seem to mind in the slightest that he's out the door without a once-over. She pats her hands dry with a clean cloth, dropped into the bin for washing, then moves over towards Sigam. All the banter between the two men pass over her head, she doesn't even try to follow it. Instead she reaches for a packet on the counter, "You do need a few." She pulls the sterile packet open with a practiced flip, then opens a bottle of redwort, pours it in a shallow basin. There's a few gauze squares inside the packet, which she takes, dips in the redwort and lifts towards Sigam's face. "This is going to sting. A lot." Her eyes sparkle just a wee bit as she eyes that pout. "Be good now." Her smile says, 'What fun is that, right?’ She makes quick, efficient strokes to clean the wound, starting right inside the cut and working towards the outer edges, discards the square and follows suit with the other two. Now Sigam's face has a lovely orange bulls-eye over his left eyebrow and temple in the middle of all that blood-red.

"That's what I was afraid of." Sigam's voice is glum, lips twisting deeper into that pout that she's sparkly-eyeing over. "Yeah, yeah. I'm part 'healer too. I'm ready for it." His eyes squint up in concentrated stillness, overdramatic to the end. "I'm always good. Ignore anyone who says otherwise." HA. Sig's eyes dance right back, but his face goes remotely still again, eyes shuttering closed when she finally starts applying the redwort. Long fingers twitch only once, closing in to form loose fists, but all and all he's taking it rather well for someone who's been whiny for the past several minutescoughhours. One eye peeks open after she seems to be done, flicking up as if trying to see his own forehead. "You… /are/ going to numb it, right?" He's teasing, not insulting her professionalism, promise!

Aeryn's lips stretch into a grin at the question. She appears to consider this, tilting her head to one side while considering the dragonhealer. "I suppose we could spare a tiny bit." She has a jar already open on the counter. There's a small swab in the sterile packet; she lifts this, dips it in the numbweed gel and slathers it on the laceration. "We'll give it a moment to work." Grey eyes study his face, "Something tells me you take it on the face pretty regularly." Might be she's looking at his nose. Might be the notes she's found on him that are sitting on the counter.

"Aren't you a doll," Sigam drawls with an eyeroll, head shaking gingerly to and fro as if in disbelief. "Healers running out of numbweed, ha!" Again the man goes quiet when Aeryn works, some mental connection between those of the healing profession understanding that it's a time to focus and get the job done, but he's plenty happy to take up chatting when she pulls the swab away. "Yep. Then the /fun/ begins," Sig enthuses sarcastically with a bark of a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, you could say something like that. It's sharding disgusting - I've been here more than I've been anywhere, it seems! Except maybe work." There goes that pout again. "At least I have a friendly staffer today. Sheesh. The lady I got here a couple sevendays ago…" He trails off with a fake shiver and a crooked smirk.

"You want to have some real fun come see me at Healer Hall, Baby." Aeryn flashes a saucy grin at Sigam, "We get to use knives on people up there." Grey eyes take in the tired, frustrated look on the man's face, "You look like you could use a vacation, but I have an idea they'll be needing you the next couple of days. Think I have something that might help." She lifts a finger, prods at the skin beside his cut, watching closely how he responds to her poking. The needles in the packet are threaded already with varying grades of suture thread, she selects the extra fine and begins the task with steady and agile fingers. "Let me know if you feel anything." She's got her eye on the stitching, but aware of each flicker of movement he might make that would indicate discomfort as she works her way across the eyebrow and towards his temple.

Welp. There go both of Sigam's eyebrows - up and up, without even a wince, testament to the Healer's application of numbweed. "Knives. Kinky," he manages after a moment, voice rumbling with laughter. "Shards, I might'a made a mistake looking after dragons - seems as if the Hall is where I oughta be." The mention of vacation sobers him a bit, one shoulder rising and falling noncommitally. "Yeah, I gotta stay. I feel bad enough being here, but… Well, I'm not any used to anyone passed out on the floor, I guess." The Dragonhealer smirks, allowing her to poke and prod as needed before asking, "And what, exactly, do you have in mind?" Drugs? He doesn't ask it, but he's thinking it. Tsk, Dragonhealer. Tsk. "Oh, you'll know," Sigam promises as she starts threading the needle through his forehead. A couple of times the sutures pull at his skin in a way that makes him feel a little queasy, but he really shows nothing more than an eyetic or a small grimace at the corners of his lips. The temptation to scream and make a lot of pretend hooplah comes and goes.

If the dragonhealer wants to think knives are kinky, Aeryn isn't going to try setting him straight. "Maybe you did," her voice ripples with amusement. "You can always come to the Hall for your vacation." She pauses with each eye tic, each tiny grimace, dabbing on a bit more numbweed as she goes. When she is done, she knots and clips the thread carefully, hands him a small mirror. "You don't need those removed, they're gut." She knows he'll know what that means. She moves to the sink, washes her hands then slips past the screens. There's a rattle of keys, a cabinet door opens, closes and is locked. She returns with a tiny envelope, which is offered to Sigam with a dry-voiced explanation, "For your head. Fellis powder. It is one dose." So not getting him started on a habit. She reaches for that folder, writes some notes on it, before turning back to him, "I didn't say anything about your mood. Just so… the Chaton's of this world will not hunt you down to fix you."

Sigam takes the lack of response to be an affirmative, but looks only amused instead of lewd. "I could, but my luck, I'd get into more trouble… and you lot have scalpels. I don't know if I would win against those." The additional numbweed is appreciated even if he doesn't say so, face relaxing back into its still position. "Mm, caprine guts?," he purrs, waggling his eyebrows in a quick test before looking at his reflection in the little mirror. "Shards, I look a disaster. No wonder Thea was all worried," the Dragonhealer grumbles vainly, handing the mirror back quickly. The tinkle of keys is easily ignored by the man, who has developed a horrible case of the stares, but the packet is not so simply disqualified. "Er," is his intelligent reply, fingers accepting it even as he peaks his good eyebrow. "Alright. I uhm… sure." Of all the injuries he's had, he's obviously gone without trying fellis. Not that he didn't know the properties, or how to take it - that was all covered way back in school - but shards if he wasn't torn between being bemused and confused. Maybe he'd been bonked harder than he thought. "Ahahaha, fix me. I'm pretty sure the likes of him're the ones that need fixed. Their spawn should not be allowed to live." Smirking, Sigam stands, visibly resisting the urge to touch his stitches. Bad Dragonhealer! No! "So, uh. That's it?"

Aeryn chuckles at the doubtful words, "I guess then, you'll never know if you'd win or no, will you Dragonhealer?" Her voice indicates it is his loss, rather than hers. She takes the mirror back, places it on the counter. The look on his face as he accepts the packet has her smirking, "Relax. It's mostly sleeping powder, the amount of fellis in it is minimal. Tree branch blown by the wind hit you? Should have you stay for observation tonight." She cocks one brow, leaves the threat hanging for a few beats, "Will help you sleep. You look like you need a good one." As to Chaton and his ilk, all she can do is nod hearty agreement while she gestures towards the door indicating he is a free man. And she manages to look completely bereft while doing so - except for that twinkle in the grey of her eyes.

"I guess not," Sigam agrees with a twisted grin. "We'll see how bold I'm feeling after I've gone a month without rearranging my face. I might warm up to the idea a bit more then." Dark eyes flicker down to examine the packet in his hands carefully, nodding. "Yeah, still, it's just one of those things. I'm used to fleeing from the stuff - my end of the business doesn't really react well and all." The rest of her words catch up to his tired brain, and though his smirk is renewed, he's definitely backing for the door. "As, ah, tempting as that would be, to stay and be observed all night" insert suggestive look to distract her while he ruuuuns, "I definitely sleep better in my own bed. Learned that the hard way." Hesitation. "And yeah. Yeah, I do. There'll be a lot for me to headache about tomorrow." He laughs a bit nervously and continues that awkward backwards shuffle. "So uh. Yeah. Thanks."

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