The Ire of Sailors

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Infirmary
This long, rectangular cavern smells faintly of antiseptic and strongly of pleasant medicinal herbs. The general atmosphere is one of bustling but orderly quiet and strict cleanliness. The back of the room is dominated by a small hearth for heat and medicinal preparations and by swinging double doors that lead to a small DragonHealing bay, an emergency surgery for human patients, the main storage, and the staff area where Healers can eat, shower, change, and the like during their longer shifts. The front of the room is a waiting and reception area where patients and staff can check in to receive treatment and begin work, respectively. The east wall of the room features examination, birthing, recovery and outpatient treatment rooms while the opposite wall is curtained off to provide privacy and bed-space for patients requiring overnight care.

Half Moon Bay can certainly handle most of the routine and sometimes urgent treatment needs of its residents here. It lacks some of the equipment available at the main Healer Hall. Once they are stabilized, patients requiring specialized or ongoing care are surely transferred there.

Maybe no one (hopefully) noticed that Jaelyn had made a very hasty exit in the middle of that egg touching earlier in the day. Where he went, no one probably knows exactly, which is fairly typical of him actually. Yet, here it is dragging into evening and the dark-haired boy appears in the doorway of the infirmary, looking like he was trampled by a herd of wherries. Well, at least one wherry. While obviously not enough to suggest as if he was starring in his own horror flick, there was blood, which was stark against the natural pale hue of his skin. The origin of the crimson fluid from multiple cuts and scraps on his face, the knuckles of his left hand, scrapes on his palms and knees, and even some on his black tank top likely from his head. A gash or something perhaps hidden by his thick crop of dark hair? Who knows. He lingers in the doorway, his expression oddly blank given the situation, and one infirmary aide actually drops her tray of instruments as she gets an eyeful. "Faranth!" she exclaims, hands flying to her mouth as she stares. Jaelyn stares back, before he looks elsewhere, "Can do without the theatrics," he mutters with a bit of a soft rumbled growl to his otherwise deadpan tenor, "So can I get patched up or what?"

Why is Cita here? She's supposed to be in the kitchens. The candidate doesn't much seem like she's worried, though, calmly talking with another of the aides. When the tray of instruments goes crashing to the ground, though? The calm fades into a thunderous scowl in an instant. "What are you *doing*! Shells, this is an infirmary." The last gets muttered, an unprofessional aside mostly to herself as she stalks towards Jaelyn. Also unprofessional: the scowl that kind of lingers as she takes in the cuts and scrapes. "Over there." The apprentice sighs, pointing to an empty cot — and glancing around quickly. The only other healer is busy with a dock worker who busted an arm, so Cita draws the straw on this one. "Can you get a kit for this?" The healer asks the aide she was speaking to, then rounds back on Jaelyn, looking him up and down with pursed lips for a moment. Given the status of his *head*, Cita starts there, frowning. "Name? Name of the clutch sire and dam? Describe your day so far. Do you feel dizzy?" If he didn't, the not-quite-rapid-fire questions probably don't help any, and neither will the light she grabs off of the cot-side table being picked up to flash in his eyes, if he doesn't duck away.

The woman who dropped the instruments, already flustered, is sent into a tizzy when Citayzleat comments, apparently it had been loud enough for her to overhear and she's quick to burst into a round of apologies as she gets to picking the tools back up and place them back onto their tray. Jaelyn ignores her, and focuses instead on the woman approaching who looked oddly familiar. He winces some when his face momentarily twists into an expression of genuine puzzlement, perhaps trying to place where he'd seen her, before he thinks better of it. The scowl might of raised an eyebrow, but this was Jaelyn, and so he meets her unprofessionalism with indifference. Cita would note plenty of superficial scrapes, a split lip near the piercing, a great deal of swelling around one eye and cheekbone, tons of very light old scars barely distinct from normal skin, busted up knuckles and a head wound that probably needed stitches. Only Faranth knows if there was anything else, he was wearing clothes, but fresh areas of swelling could be seen peaking out here and there. He doesn't say a word when she orders him to move, he just does it and drops heavily onto the empty cot indicated. He simply sits and waits, though does work his jaw a bit as if it were sore. When the woman comes back over and starts firing questions at him, he stares mildly not answering a single one. However, it's the sudden burst of light in his oddly hued golden eyes that has him hiss and recoil, "Fuck!" he growls huskily, his damaged hand thrust up with palm towards the beam, wincing, before he glares at Cita. "Yer bedside manor sucks."

Cita at least has the grace to look mildly chagrined at the poor aide's disquiet; but she doesn't apologize, not yet. Perhaps not later, either, given her apparent lack of grace. When the other aide comes back with the supplies for scrapes and cuts, the apprentice nods. "Thanks." She murmurs, and turns back to Jaelyn, eyebrows rising slowly when her queries aren't answered with haste. The flailing to stop the light isnt unexpected, but the healer does attempt to stop it, sighing. Her own disquiet isn't released in fights with wild whers or possibly-innocent individuals; no, Cita torments patients in the infirmary? Real nice. "Sorry." She doesn't actually *sound* overly sorry, but she does draw the light back a little and shutter it briefly, frowning. "The questions, please. You might have a concussion, with that." The apprentice gestures at his head. "I have to report it all to Telj before I fix it, and the sooner I fix it, the better, hm? This is another part of it. Let me get a proper reaction and I'll put it down. Do you have a headache?" Sliiightly more patient, but there's still an edge there. "Do I need to send anybody out to fetch the other person?"

"Ya sound it." Jaelyn grumbles under his breath for Citayzleat's apology, letting the hand down hesitantly, but looking like he'd be more than happy to put it right back up again should the woman try flashing bright lights in his face again. He frowns lightly, certainly not giving her the benefit of the doubt, given the way he eyeballs her suspiciously. "Jaelyn. Feyruth and Emeliuth. Slept, ate, touched the eggs, and got the crap beat outta me. No and no." So he did hear her hurried round of questions, and even remembered to answer the last one she'd thrown in there a second ago! He might be damaged, but at least his brain was in tact. Sort of. There is a heavy sigh for news that it would have to be reported, but he shrugs and looks off into the rest of the infirmary, perhaps having surmised that much. "Doubt it, barely got a punch in." This is said with an inflection of regret, apparently bristling about the fact he was the loser here.

"You bet." Cita's sarcasm is gentle, at least, at this point. She carefully arranges the supplies she'll need, eyeing the wounds as Jaelyn finally reports answers to her questions. "Good. Thanks," This time, she's a little more genuine, and she even smiles briefly at the mistrusting look. Yeah, she totally earned that one. Not that she really seems all that inclined to correct it, lifting the light up again with at least a *little* warning this time. "Just have to make sure." Is the not-actually-reassuring reassurance, but whatever she sees this time is apparently enough, as she puts it back on the table with the shade set to shine on the other candidate's various wounds. The heavy sigh gets a helpless shrug, though; then what might actually — gasp! — be a sympathetic wince. "Hmm. Looks like it. Your face looks like chopped steak." Wow. Yeah. That's helpful. "Hold on." And she's off, pacing over to the other healer; they talk for a moment, then Cita's nodding, back on quick feet. "Alright. Telj is going to supervise the sutures in a moment, when I get this one up here. He'll also examine you for any broken bones." Cita's expression suggests that this isn't real optional. "Lean forward so I can clean out the cut up here." It's…a question? Maybe.

Jaelyn's eyes narrow further, watching Cita about as carefully as she was arranging the equipment that had been brought to her. Dubious as his expression is, he bobs his head once for the thank you, but it's not putting an end to his suspicion. He sees that light coming, and his hand shoots up again, faltering when she at least pauses before shoving it into his face. Up close, those gold irises are found to contain flecks of deep sapphire blue throughout, which becomes all the more obvious when the pupils retract in response to the light. Both are equal and reactive! He remains still as she moves on to look at his wounds, attention floating off elsewhere, though he does snort some when the woman makes her comment about his face looking like chopped steak. "Yer observant." he drops with sarcasm that was less than gentle than hers. Though as she marches off, his gaze does follow her at least, decidedly flicking off elsewhere when she starts her way back. Shoulders slump with the news, "Ya got to be fuckin' kiddin' meh." he groans under his breath, already leaning forward.

When the apprentice gets back, she lifts an eyebrow — her aide is giving Jaelyn a sharp look. The two have a silent conversation that involves eyebrows and eyerolls, and eventually Cita snorts and shrugs. Cita is utterly deadpan when she turns her attention back to the patient, expression bland and steady as she grabs a plastic container of sterile water. "Thanks. That's what they look for, in a healer." She snarks, still deadpan, examining the wound closer and frowning a little bit. "This one's pretty deep. I'm going to clean it out first, and then move on to the others while I'm at it. Then Telj is coming over for his part in it. Alright?" It does sound like a question, and she does pause here, but the healer looks like she expects some sort of acquiescence. She does snort after a moment, though, eyes flashing towards the ceiling in what might be a teeny eye-roll. "No, I'm really not kidding. I'll put numbweed on once it's done with, if that's the issue." She ventures, eyebrows raised a little.

There is a somewhat vaguely curious glance spared to Cita and the aide, having missed said aide glaring at him apparently, when they go off to the side to chat. Jaelyn doesn't ask what it was about, so maybe he can guess. "Maybe ya should think about another line of work." he snarks back, though there isn't much effort behind it, seeming to be simply returning the favor. Not that he'd cornered the market on deadpan, but the sudden flatness of the healer's voice has him mildly interested. It's brief though, and he drops his eyes to the floor as she takes a closer look at the wound on his head. "Whatever." is all the acquiescence Cita gets, dropping his chin into one hand. He does grumble some under his breath, quieter this time, and difficult to make out. Something about sailors and no sense of humor. "Naw. Dun need to numb it, just do what ya gutta do." he mutters, appearing either bored by this whole process or slightly put out by having to hang out in the infirmary.

Half-hearted or not, Cita can work with the snark. It's better than living inside of her own head; a pretty decent distraction from the mental disruption of the hatching. Different strokes for different folks. At least Cita isn't punching, but she *is* about to stick a needle in the poor guy's head, so…? "Ah, but then what would I do with my free evenings? This is more fun than drinking, or sleeping." Lazy snark, and distracted besides, since she's 'hmm'ing what might be thanks at the acquiescing. And indeed, she's not entirely able to make out much of the muttering — sailors? humor? It still gets another vague noise of agreement. Damn those mumblemumble sailors. Permission received, the healer sets to work, sterilizing her hands and then setting in with the careful irrigating. She does use a pad of gauze to keep the water out of his eyes, and thoroughly cleans the wound, eventually handing the pad to the aide so she can go in with a soft square of cloth, ensuring it's clear. Cita looks pensive for a long moment, moving on from that cut to another, with a new cloth and lots more water. Finally, she spits out the problem, low and vague: "I don't shardin' know what they want out of us, with those eggs." Uh-oh.

It's a good thing that no one who knows him well is there at the moment, because Cita's next half-hearted snark actually pulls a weak smile and a restrained chuckle out of the kid, which may of very well given those few acquaintances a heart attack. It's fleeting though, and gone perhaps before they even register. Faranth be praised Cita was distracted, which gave him the opportunity to school his expression back to none at all. He might stiffen minutely with the poking around on that head wound of his, but otherwise he remains oddly still, lashes lowering. His jaw is clenched though, and one hand curls into a tight fist. Still, despite how painful that gash looks, he doesn't make a single noise throughout the process. When she moves on to the next, he tilts his head in order for her to get it better. Though, when she starts her own round of muttering, his eyes flick from the floor to her face. There is a single blink of confusion before he relaxes all at once. The pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "Oh right. Yer a candidate too." Duh Jae, just…DUH. He eyes her again, before gaze is dropped back to the floor at her feet. "Whatta ya mean?" he asks, perhaps his curiosity getting the better of him this time.

Cita may or may not smirk at the chuckle, not seeing the look or not. Score one for snarky bedside manner! Her own expression remains fairly deadpan, barring the fleeting triumph — she's good, she knows — as he tilts his head to accommodate the poking and prodding. "Thanks. Shells, man." It's either sympathy or exasperation, or maybe both, but Cita's hands don't show any of it, careful and slow, never poking too hard. The confusion gets a huff, and the briefest of amused looks, but she nods all the same. The healer's quiet for a moment, finishing the current scrape before she moves on. "Yeah. I suppose I am." She shrugs, ignoring the aide's amused look, accepting a cotton-round with a little redwort on it. "This will sting a little, but the littler ones need it." She warns, an that's it for a moment, finishing the last of the cuts on his face in silence before she answers. "The eggs. They're." Frown. "Invasive." Her nose wrinkles as she turns her attention to the scraped-up knuckles, making a gesture that might be a permissive one, pausing to receive acknowledgement. "Not that they mean to be, obviously. They're just…a lot."

Oddly enough, Jaelyn has begun to relax, tension that the healer might not have detected melting away the longer that he remains in her presence. He'll go ahead and let the woman think his lack of jerking around and complaining reflects the level of her skill. He certainly wasn't there to inflate her ego. "Hmm?" he asks, distractedly, and then ohs with a shrug. "Ain't the first time, probably not the last." Nope, this was not his first hamburger-face which is undoubtedly not surprising considering all of those tiny and not so tiny scars that poor Cita keeps finding over and over again, seemingly everywhere. Not paying any attention to the aide and her amusement, golden eyes remain fixed to the healer woman, smart enough to keep his attention above her neck. He doesn't even so much as flinch when she applies the redwort, but he does close his eyes a moment and purses his lip. A steadying breath later, he returns his gaze to her. "First time standin'?" he asks, offering up the hand that he had been using as a resting spot for his chin previously, the battered knuckles looking like he'd had a fist fight with concrete, and lost.

Cita might or might not believe in her own skills, here. It's not clear whether she's not commenting out of politeness or pride — could be either, really. "Yes. I see that." It's without judgment at least; it's not Cita's business that her fellow candidate seems to make a sport of mashing up his face! The snark is there, but muted, distracted by the careful cleaning of the offered hand. "Yeah." A muttered admission there — the angst! It's there! And bore manfully, like those cuts, stiff upper lip and shoulders and all. "It's something, hmm?" And that's as close as she'll get to 'I feel you, man'. After a moment more of cleaning, she steps back, clearing her throat. Telj appears at her elbow, mild face already on as he greets Jaelyn. Cita makes a bit of a face, but shrugs, smiling ruefully. "Telj will fix the cuts up and check you over. You should get to bed soon; I heard we have dawn laps." The healer looks really excited about this. Sure. And then she's off, like somebody lit a fire under her, muttering vaguely about sharding eggs and bleeding candidates.

Jaelyn's tattooed shoulder shrugs some when Cita comments on the evidence of past skirmishes, continuing to remain utterly still as she works her magic, so to speak. He watches her dab and flush seeing as he had nothing else better to do, lashes lowering some, as if sleep was ready to take him here and now. Her question does rouse him back to life though, and he looks up a moment before his attention falls back to the damaged hand. "Dun remember mah first time much. This is mah sixth or seventh time…" he murmurs, flexing the hand a couple times as she finishes up as if checking to make sure she didn't mess it up further or something. He glances back to her face and nods, gaze darting towards wherever Telj wandered off to and then returns it to Cita. "Have fun with that." Wait, what? As she wanders off he pushes himself back and lays down on the cot, closing his eyes. He'll just be napping until the healer guy can get his act together and get over there.

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