Xanadu Weyr - Infirmary
The infirmary here is intended for human care. It is regularly scrubbed spotless and smells of disinfectant, redwort and other herbs that are - if sometimes strong - preferable to the scents of sickness. Cots are lined up against one wall, with a set of curtains that can be pulled to give some privacy to the occupants of the cots if they so desire. They're mostly used for examinations of patients and the treatment of mild injuries that won't require long term care; near the back are some more private areas with folding dividers.
There's a number of cabinets that stand off against another wall, instruments and medications stored against when they will be needed, and a back room holds those supplies seldom required.
A desk with chair is set just off of the doorway to the caverns, meant for the healer to sit and catch up on record keeping after a long day's work or await patients. If things get too busy, the patients can do the waiting on a set of uncomfortable chairs set nearby. The other doorway comes directly from the clearing, wide enough for a team to carry a stretcher through.
It's been a couple of days now that the dramatic events so abruptly and bloodily closed Xanadu's hatching but for E'tan it still feels like it happened just hours ago. He looks exhausted and pale, furrows distorting his forehead almost permanently. "Make sure there's plenty of guest weyrs available. We expect to have visitors…" And his voice goes white here, still dressing the departing bluerider "…families mourning." The following noise sounds more like a grumble of protest. With one hand on his head, he tries to stay still as a healer is stitching a bad looking cut across the left side of his chest.
Marel has been a reluctant visitor to the infirmary since before the hatching, bandages around her right hand changed each day, and today is no different. It cannot be said that she looks thrilled to be there, and she seems even less enthusiastic when she catches sight of E'tan, yet concern wins out over any desire that she might have to walk straight back out again. Her route is not a direct one, as if expecting to be stopped before she reaches her destination, but she eventually reaches the bronzerider's bedside and looks him up and down. "…Are you all right?" It's a relatively stupid question, delivered somewhat flatly.
E'tan gives the poor healer a last glare, idly rubbing his side where the new bandage has been applied. It's only when his he'd reappears from the hole of his shirt that he notices the brownrider's arrival. "I will survive…" is his rather blunt answer. Known to be easily drown with work, in this time of crisis, or post crisis, he's more likely to sacrifice his strength and sleep to help bring order back. "Are you?" He asks back, nodding his chin at her hand.
"I didn't ask if you'd survive." Pedantic, maybe, but Marel is slightly more gentle with that statement, the lilt in her voice one that reiterates the question already asked. She shrugs, dismissive of what's gone on as regards her hand, and replies, "Nothing quite so dramatic as the other day," her tone a little dry. "I'll heal." Which isn't so different to surviving. "Frankly, I don't care if you think you can carry on regardless - you look awful."
E'tan runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, the move bringing a grimace to his lips. He's gonna have to use his right hand more from now. "We will all have to heal…." But then, yes, he's aware he may look terrible but since he carefully avoided mirrors. "I can't rest….I just can't rest now." Trying for a poor weak smile, he stands up but nearly stumbles.
It's instinctive and awkward, the way that Marel makes to stop him from stumbling. Her right hand is more or less out of commission, but her left side can only be relied on so many times out of ten, given her self-inflicted injury of turns past, and so she goes to nudge her right shoulder against E'tan and hook her elbow under his, only just keeping her hand from being knocked. "Don't be a fool," she half-snaps. "I may not have Impressed the gold I dreamt of as a child, but I saw my mother at her work quite enough, and so I deem myself well-qualified enough to tell you that you're going to do more harm than good to anyone and anything right now."
E'tan's reaction is no less awkward but the help is gratefully accepted since the fall would have been inevitable without Marel's intervention. It only lasts long enough for him to steady his balance though, the hand on her shoulder quickly moving back to his side. The brownrider's words sink in and he knows she's right but it doesn't prevent him from grunting again. "I….will….rest….eventually. Just not now." He finally says through clenched teeth. How could he rest now? In a time like this, a man can truly show his worth. or so he strongly believes. "There're still so many things to get done…Marel…" He doesn't really know why he said her name but the consequences can't be hidden, his eyes watering some.
"And when you make a mistake and something goes wrong, or you miss some seemingly minor detail? What then?" Marel demands, good hand lifting to rest on her hip. "What happens when someone truly needs an answer from you and you're too exhausted to make the right call? How bad are you going to feel then?" She shakes her head. "Don't be an idiot." Fool, idiot - same thing. "You're not any good to anyone right now, least of all yourself." Whether or not it's a sensible thing to do, what she perceives to be tears have her reaching for him, embrace offered.
Strong, brave and young. E'tan is all of that and, with Saburath's support, even more! Clenching one fist at his side, he forces himself to believe that. It has to be. But the pain….the pain and the fatigue are just too strong, grasping his heart and his very soul. If a lonely tear finally succeeded in rolling over the hill of his cheek, his gaze displays more anger than pain. Anger against his weak condition he can't deny now. "Bullsh—" The cursing left untold as just when Marel reaches for him, he collapses in her arms…
"Lang—" Marel starts to snap, her indignation more affected than truly felt, but about the time that she gets the word out is when she realises that E'tan isn't just leaning too heavily against her. She reaches desperately for the bed to try and keep herself upright, left hand clawing at what she manages to snag of the sheets, but it's not enough, and she stumbles backwards as she falls, both hands reaching now to clasp his head against her shoulder as she falls, rather than risk him cracking his skull on the ground. She instinctively curls as she hits the floor, trying to save her own head from bumping the ground or the next bed over, and it's nothing like dignified when she finds herself trapped there, half-curled around the bronzerider. At least there are plenty of healers around to pick them up off of the floor.