Fort Weyr - Central Infirmary

This room looks fairly similar to most other infirmaries, with it's faint scent of antiseptic and an eerie quiet that goes along with convalescence. Rows of cots line both walls, each separated by a privacy screen. Breaking the line of cots along the outside wall is a entrance to the dragonhealing section of the infirmary. The far end of the oval room is filled with metal cabinets that hold the tools of the Weyrhealers trade, as well as a desk from which the healer can supervise his domain. Upon one wall rests a thick 'chart' containing the information on all patients within the infirmary.


Late afternoon finds a not-so-unusual pair of visitors to the Weyr, though their visits have become more and more infrequent of late. While Lyuba sets off to make a delivery to the infirmary, she's followed along by her very own little ghost. Galina moves silently and purposefully through the room, slipping around this or that on her way to find the area where all of the files are kept. Some words are had with the person in charge and then she might as well not be there at all, busy with whatever task she's been dispatched to see to.

Pralius is an equally common sight in the infirmary, perhaps even moreso, but not in his current state. The usually crisp, professional healer has shown some strain lately with the arrival of his son so his slightly disheveled appearance isn't particularly out of sorts, it's the large blossom of bruise on his left cheek and jaw, to which a hide full of ice is currently pressed, that is particularly odd. He glances around, not really spotting anyone in particular, and sighs, "Never thought I'd be here for this again."

It's not Galina that initially spots the bruise-sporting Pralius, but the blue firelizard that's winging his way along some time later. He chirps, he chitters, and he soon starts circling Pralius' head with a creel of distress. Apparently, he's associated the hide bags of ice as a Bad Thing and, thus, warrants some alert. While a few of the other healers look in that direction or hiss at the blue to shut up, it's an eventual and deadpan, "Cyanosis, cease," from behind Pralius that silences the beast.

Pralius starts, ducking away from the insistently circling blue, then yelps, jumping into the air at the unexpected voice. Obviously this wasn't how he got hurt since he lands just fine, "Um… hi… I just wanted to have someone else… look at this…" He motions towards the bruise with the ice pack, "Just to be… safe…"

"Cyanosis." Pause. "Cease." While there is no audible emphasis on the latter word, the blue utters a sheepish-sounding warble and drops down to the young woman's shoulder. He curls contritely around her neck while she finally moves around front to better face Pralius. One eyebrow lifts as she regards him, the line of her mouth (perhaps thankfully) set in a bland line. "How did you receive it?" is her first question, even as she motions for him to move the pack away from the bruise entirely for her to get a good, long look at it.

Pralius flushes brightly, bringing the edges of the bruise into sharp relief, "I… uh… sort of insulted R'oc's manhood and implied he was incapable of fathering a child on Kessa…" His eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at Galina.

"That would be fitting, considering he has declared to me that he could find a way to birth a child of his own. Were his dragon anything other than bronze, I might fully believe he was a sexually confused man." Galina issues this utterly deadpan, even while she leans in to examine the bruise. Cool fingertips are aimed to press lightly at the perimeter of the bruise before she motions for him to open his mouth. "Say 'ah'." There is a method to her madness; it's to check the inside of his mouth for something or another, though the examination itself is brief.

Pralius snerks, then winces as he accidentally grinds the teeth on the bruised gums, "Wyn says we fight like an old married couple." He doesn't wince much at the pressing since the initial numbweed is just now starting to wear off. Her next request draws a nod and a mouth dutifully opened minus the 'ahhh' sound.

Finished with that, Galina nods, once, and gestures toward the ice pack. "Do any teeth feel loose? Are your gums bleeding?" All queried as she starts to head off to one of the cabinets of supplies. It's all about getting an oiled cloth and numbweed salve — her usual satchel having been left behind in the filing area — in order to continue alleviating the pain. "It is unsurprising that he would respond to a verbal insult with a physical attack. He is either insane," which is issued flatly, nigh matter-of-factly, "or simply simple-minded."

Pralius shakes his head, "Nothing feels out of place, but it did give me quite a knock." The relief of the newest application of numbweed is obvious, even if it can't fix every bit that hurts, "I should've known better than to say it, too." he sighs a little, then chuckles, "His sense of pride is as over-developed as his sense of personal prowess."

Application complete, the younger healer takes a seat in a convenient chair, with Cyanosis crooning in sympathy for Pralius' pain. He knows what /that/ smell is for and it's also a Bad Thing (even if the salve itself is a Good Thing). "Just keep an eye on things, just in case-" she begins, then catches herself with a singular shake of her head. "You know how to tend to it. It appears to be nothing more than a severe bruise, with no apparent complications." Narrow shoulders rise, fall, and she intones some time later: "We can choose our individual actions as surely as we can choose our individual reactions. Your action was poor, his reaction was far more inappropriate, particularly given his rank." One corner of her mouth distorts, as if a snippet of sourness had found its way there. "There is a saying about pride, but it does little to convey it to someone who does not have as much of it as the one in question does."

Pralius reaches over to give Cyanosis a soft rub, "It's okay, I'm fine, just have some healing to do." He frowns, settling into a similarly out of the way chair, "He just doesn't learn. He teases when he should be serious and takes things seriously that are meant in jest."

The blueling withdraws his head after that rubbing, pulling his head back to rest it anew on Galina's shoulder. The young woman just nods, once, and the line of her mouth flattens slightly for Pralius' words. "Unfortunately, one cannot force intelligence and wisdom into a person in the same way a foot can be forced into a shoe with a shoe horn." That line sours just a touch as she observes, "It is a shame that he is Weyrleader here, if only for that reason."

Pralius chuckles, "I wasn't acting with the greatest intelligence myself… I do owe him an apology for my words… they were spoken in anger and… very harsh." He glances at Lina and frowns, well, half his mouth frowns, anyway, "He has the potential to be a good weyrleader, I've seen it. He's just… far too aggressive."

"If he apologizes for hitting you, then I might be inclined to believe that he is slightly more intelligent than he has shown himself to be in my experience with him." Galina glances over to where Lyuba is still delivering more goods, then turns her attention back to Pralius with a mild, "I will not argue his potential, no more than I can argue that every orange has the potential of being juice."

Pralius nods, "He apologizes verbally very rarely… there are other ways to know he is contrite." Her next words draw a smirk, then a wince as damaged muscles squish in the motion, "It's true… everyone has potential." He shakes his head slowly, "And flaws. The question, I suppose, is which overcomes the other…"

"Then perhaps he ought to learn how to verbally apologize. Not everyone will respond to unspoken apologies." Matter-of-fact. Galina inclines her head slightly at a birdlike angle as she considers Pralius' words, though her thoughts resolve some time later. Eventually: "I feel the answer to that is clear. Until he sees a need to change things, however, pride will smother all of his redeeming qualities."

Pralius nods, standing slowly now that the numbweed has worked its way in more fully, "It's true. On all counts. I just wish I could convince him of that." It's hard to ascertain the exact meaning of the sigh that follows, then he shrugs, "I should probably make sure Wyn and Darius are okay… she was still a little upset last I saw her… and not just with R'oc…"

"Of course." Galina rises as well, though it might be that she's taking a cue from one of the others back in the filing area. Pale eyes slant askance to Pralius, though no smile is spared; just a shallow nod and an incination of her head. Cyanosis chirps a farewell of some sort to the young man, gape-mawed and cheerful now that it seems he's alright. "Be well." That said, she turns and heads away, off to tend to the business she was sent here on.

Pralius inclines his head in response to Galina, "You as well. And safe skies on your return journey." A quick turn finds him facing the door and soon on his way out to… Faranth knows where, really.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.