Small Improvements

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.

Another day, and still the rain. "Will it never end?" Moriana mutters as she pushes open the door to the infirmary, letting the tarp she was using as a rain shield fall away from her shoulders. "I don't think I've ever been this wet," she adds to herself as she hangs the tarp to drip-dry before approaching the On-Duty station. Visiting Phy, take 2!

Phylicia is in minimal bandages now, most of her skin having healed either completely or to a point where she doesn't need the bandages anymore. Although the long sleeved top and long skirt hide any bandages that might still exist. Minus a few patches, her skin seems to be done sloughing the dead skin as well, leaving her looking more or less human. But she still keeps herself close to the infirmary due to her lungs, which - as Moria walks in - she is proving was a wise idea as she's resting against one of the file cabnets, acting like she's trying to cough up one of her lungs, with the On Duty standing with a cup ready for when she can manage to stop coughing.

Moria notices after a few steps that the On Duty isn't at their desk, and glances around until she locates the healer - and Phylicia. She winces in sympathy as Phy coughs, but doesn't approach just yet. Instead, she detours to the washing station and, deftly rolling her sleeves up, begins scrubbing her arms down. Healed though the burns may be, Moria isn't taking any chances - she's met Fraille!

When the coughing doesn't immediately subside, and the coughing gets to the point where it sounds like her airways might constrict too tightly for breathing, the On Duty - who appears to be her Attending for the moment - sets down the mug and reaches into his pocket to products a small jar, which he uncaps and dips a finger into, holding Phylicia's head still for a moment as he dabs the gel under her nose. After a few heartbeats, her coughing calms back down and she reaches for the mug resting atop the file cabnets, wanting the soothing properties of the drink badly. After a few sips, she finally looks up, and if winded, greets Moria. "I saw you come in." She croaks, her voice a bit more hoarse than usual. Gee. Wonder why. She takes another sip.

Moria finishes scrubbing and, nodding to Phylicia, slimes her arms with redwort. That'll stain… "I'm impressed you saw anything, the way you were coughing," is her reply after she dabs her arms to a mostly dry state and sets the towel down. Moving closer, she nods to the On Duty. "Healer," she greets softly before leaning on a counter, not reaching to touch Phy but certainly close enough she probably could. "How are you doing? I heard your skin has recovered for the most part. I'd have been by more, but we had to evacuate almost everything out of the craft complex because of the rising water."

Phylicia drains the cup of liquid soon enough, waiting for the mild numbness to set in. And while she certainly looks winded, with a rosy tint to her cheeks a patch of her skin on the underside of her jaw, next to an ear seems to have healed with a funny texture. "'M no-" She coughs, this time as if just clearing her throat. "I'm not blind." There's a little bit of lightness to her tone, though there's a certain lack of animation to her face. A week gone, and she's still taking the news of Tenebrous' lost memory fairly hard, as well as the inability to use his right arm. But there's a part of her which will never stop being a healer, even if she shouldn't be doing more than filing patient files. "No one's seriously hurt, are they?" She asks. Apparently, it's gotten to the point where she's looking for distractions.

Moria shakes her head, absently rubbing her arms as she regards Phylicia. The texture of her own skin seems to draw her gaze to the oddly texture patch on the healer, and her lips twitch slightly. "Never said you were blind," she replies mildly. "Just figured with all the coughing that your eyes might be closed to keep them from popping out. My ma always warned me to keep my eyes closed when coughing or sneezing, or they would pop." She says this with a totally stright face, but her eyes are bright. "Nobody is hurt at all, beyond some minor bruises and some colds from getting wet and not being sensible enough to dry off before falling asleep. The roof is leaking, though, and it is making a right fine mess of things. Anything susceptible to water damage is being moved until the sky clears and the roof can be re-sealed."

Phylicia's Attending/the On Duty healer finally strays from the girl's side as she seems to be over her fit, making a quick note in Phy's file, before going back to the other stack of files awaiting his attention. Moria's straight-faced teasing seems to fly right past the senior apprentice however as she listens, sighing afterwards at the mention of people failing to take care of themselves. As she listens to the rain as it comes down - a constant noise that one has likely tuned out by now - her lips twitch only briefly. "I guess people will know if they have a leak or not." And thankfully, the infirmary has no such leaks. Or at least no leak they've seen.

Moria doesn't seem to mind that Phylicia isn't responding to the gentle prods, simply nodding to her reply about the leaks. "It's pretty obvious, yes. I'm glad there was enough room in the caverns to move everything, though. There are a lot of things that would have been hard to replace on short notice." She pauses for a moment, then asks in a lower voice, "So how are you doing? How are you handling everything?" She guestures with a hand to Phy's body, then to the outside. It may call Phy's attention to the redden welts that decorate her arms, marks that Phylicia has probably not seen before, given Moria's preference for long sleeves.

Phylicia tenses for a moment as the inevitable question comes about, though she has to give Moria a break for it, since the glasscrafter hasn't been plaguing her with the question every single, or even every other day. For a minute there's silence as she thinks about the question, instead of spewing the traditional 'I'm fine!'. "All but one or two of the burns have healed." She says at first, thinking. "I'm told it'll be awhile longer for my lungs and throat." Though it's true, even with the coughing fit ravaging her throat, she's not quite as gravely as she was the last time Moria heard her speak. But instead of letting her tension go, her shoulders only tighten more at what her guess of 'everything' means, and she pauses for another period of time, her dark eyes getting a little darker. "It's hard." She finally supplies, letting Moria make of it what she will.

Moria listens, calmly and openly, to what Phylicia has to say, not pressing or interrupting as she works her way through her answer. She gives Phylicia several long moments after she finishes before speaking again. "It is hard. And I'm sure everyone trying to help is only making the process more frustrating and painful," she says softly, her rough voice full of compassion. "Everyone thinks they know how to make it hurt less, being the survivor. How to make the pain numb…" She trails off, then shakes her head. "They really have no clue, do they?" Moria fishes in a pocket for a moment before holding her right hand out to Phylicia, palm up. A mottled blob of glass rests there, mishappen and awkward, veins of ash and soot running through it and defacing what should be a smooth surface. "I saw the chunk of hood you've been holding on to. This is smaller and less smelly, but still born of flame and pain."

Phylicia first gives Moria a somewhat sidelong look, before she finally looks fully at the glasscrafter, actually looking instead of being stuck in her own little world. Her mouth opens for a moment as if she's going to reply, but closes it after a moment, listening still until Moria finishes. "Trying to share the pain, when there's no way to share it." The healer-girl looks at the blob of glass, before she looks back up to Moria's face, the question of 'what?' written in her face for her, though the question gets voiced in a slightly different manner. "How do you deal with it? When you know.." She pauses, stumbling. "When you know it's your actions that caused them to get hurt?" Even if unintentionally.

Moria slowly turns the bit of glass in her palm, looking at it for several long minutes before looking back to Phylicia. "You don't, at first. Not while it is fresh. Not while the consequences are right there, in your face, every day," she breathes, eyes dark with pain. "I was luckier than you, in some ways. I was younger. I was more… flexible is the wrong word, but the right idea. I was easier to manipulate. You are older, not just in years but experience. You know more than I did. It's going to make it much, much harder to accept that you could not control the situation." She closes her hand around the glass blob, fist straining and the veins in her arms standing out. "But you also have it easier. While he may not recover all of his memory, Tenebrous is still alive. Believe me, that will make a world of difference to your emotional recovery," she rasps.

While listening, Phylicia doesn't shift much except for how she's pressing her lips together. Sometimes they're just pressed together, other times they're pulled taut across her teeth, and most often she bites upon her lower lip. But she never stops listening. Because Moria seems to be making a strange amount of sense to her. "I'm sorry." Comes first, her voice sounding more strained than it was a moment ago, her eyes containing a little extra moisture to them. But a hand runs through her bangs, absent-mindedly shoving them backwards, only to have them bounce back to where they belong. "I should face him again…" She murmurs, looking at Moria. "I should, I know it. But when he comes in, I always find something else to do." Deja vu, anyone? She's running again. Though not quite as hard as she had done with M'nol.

Moria slowly relaxes her grip as she listens to Phylicia, watching the younger woman intensely. "Thank you," she manages, lips twitching slightly at the irony of the situation - Phy the one with fresh hurt and yet giving the support. She offers the nubbin of glass again, raising a brow. "You should, eventually. But it might not be a bad idea to give him some time to come to terms with his situation. And a chance for the healers to do their experiment with his firelizards to try and recover some associations faster. I don't think facing him in his current state will help either of you recover."

Phylicia only squirms slightly underneath Moria's watchful gaze, and that's because she's mostly used to having people staring. The bandages didn't help with that, and taking breaks in the middle of a passage way doesn't either. The best are the looks she gets when she starts into a coughing fit. But the girl gingerly takes the nubbin of glass, carefully turning it over in her hands as if it might explain something on its own. The distraction is enough to let a pair of silent tears slide down the side of her face before she can catch herself. But thankfully it hasn't developed into the type of crying that could easily trigger another of her fits. "I d-don't want to get in the way of his re-recovery." She hoarsely stumbles over the sentence, realizing finally there are tears on her face which makes her lift her hand, using the cuff of her sleeve to gently wipe at her face.

Moria nods, retracting her hand once the bit of glass has been taken. "I know. It's hard to tell what is going to hurt and what is going to help, for either of you," she agrees softly. Watching Phy dab away the tears, she offers, "When you feel well enough to talk about things that /will/ make you cry, you come see me, hmm? I think I've given you plenty to think about for now. I hope it's helped, but I'm guessing you aren't ready to really let go of anything yet. Hurts too much to face it." She pauses for a few hearbeats before expounding upon that offer. "I'll be around whenever you need me. Don't hesitate to send a note, by person or firelizard, if you want to talk. It doesn't even have to be about anything important. That's what friends are for. And don't worry that you are interrupting something - I can't get anything done in all this wet anyway."

Phylicia is dabbing at the silent tears with one hand/sleeve, while her other is holding the nubbin back out to Moria, fairly certain that the object is something the other woman might not want to let go of. Silently the healer-girl nods and retracts her hand, whether or not it has the piece of glass in it. "I'll keep that in m-mind." She rasps quietly as she picks up her empty mug, still dabbing at the slowing tears with her other sleeve. For a moment she looks like she's going to turn, but she pauses. Even though there's pain in her eyes, there is a shade of greatfulness. "Thank you. Really." And then she does turn, likely looking to refill her mug, or find a hankerchief. Or both.

Moria reaches out and gently pushes at Phy's fingers, as if to close them back over the nubbin. "You keep that for now. My mindhealer taught me to use it as what he called a 'memory stone' - something to focus on when reliving the bad moments, and to push the negative feelings toward. A form of… disassociation, I think, is the word. It might help you. You can give it back next time if it isn't doing you any good." She blinks slowly when Phy thanks her, then manages to nod. "You're welcome. Thank you for letting me share," she murmurs, her own eyes shining now with unshed tears as the impact of their short but intense visit makes itself known. "Take care, Phy. I'll be around if you need me." Tugging her sleeves back down over her arms, the journeywoman slowly withdraws, making her eay back toward that tarp and the doorway.

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