Moving In [Tag: Zenelle]

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Mara was unimpressed. It was not easy to impress her – after all she was nearly forty turns old, and had seen a great deal in that time. For all of her Mastery, she had been living in Weyrs, and while she might not be as versed in the culture as a Weyrbrat who has spent their whole life amongst dragons and those who ride them, Mara still felt confident enough with Weyr life that few things about it impacted her any longer.

Mara began her examination of her new home by simply walking around the caverns – becoming accustomed to the new layout, occasionally pointing at open spaces and curtly asking what they were usually used for. Finally, after thoroughly examining the caverns for a few candlemarks, Mara returned to the space she had been told would be her quarters within the infirmary. She’d barely glanced into the room before, but now she gave it a more critical looking over. “I’ll need a proper desk,” she finally decided. “A curtain or barrier of some kind, as well. I’ll need a space to keep records and do administrative tasks, and I’d rather not take up any of the infirmary space.” She nodded once. “A curtain could work, but I’d prefer a more sturdy barrier. I don’t want someone barging into my bedchambers while I’m working.”

She turned to speak directly to her guide, one Zenelle, a Dragonhealer, she’d been told. She was glad it was another healer showing her around. While Weyrs seemed to think she should be flattered to have some important rider showing her around, they generally had no idea where anything ever was, rendering their assistance useless. “I’m not sure I like these caves,” she admitted to Zenelle. “While I can appreciate the fact that they’re the best protection against thread on this island, their habit of flooding in the corners concerns me.” She sighed and ran a hand over her face wearily. “I suppose I’m too used to mainland Weyrs. Nevermind, I’ll deal with it when it becomes a problem.”

Mara looked past Zenelle, considering other things she’d noticed about the space. “Would you explain to me why the bandages seem to be kept on the highest shelves?” Mara said. She tried not to accuse the other woman directly, but there was a note of annoyance in her voice. “In addition to numbweed, they’re the most used tools in any infirmary. They should be kept together, and on a shelf even the shortest healers can reach easily. High enough up that flooding won’t pose a problem.” Mara tried to think of anything else. She was tired from the long journey, and wasn’t operating at top performance. It was probably just as well that there weren’t any serious cases for her to deal with at that moment. “And I want a cabinet in here. Something I can lock. There was a problem with fellis abuse some time ago, wasn’t there? We’re not having a repeat of that, not if I can help it. I’m going to be regulating its use closely.” She ran her hand over her face again. “And…oh Faranth, another healer should have access to it as well, since I’m so new here. Maybe you, I don’t know.” Mara tried not to look as tired as she felt as she turned to look over her living quarters once more. This would do nicely, she decided. She could make a home here.

[Zen]

Zenelle did her best not to look too amused at their new Master Healer’s rough appraisal of her new home. She knew very well that Mavros did offer much by the way of comfort or decent living space, it did not offend her to be told the truth of things she already knew. Though she was glad she was the one showing the woman around and not someone from the founding of Mavros. They might be a great deal more touchy about their home than Zenelle, who had transferred to Mavros nearly a turn after its founding. So she took it all in good humor and did her best to give Mara decent answers whenever she posed a question.

“I dare say we all have our complaints about the flooding, but as you’ve pointed out, protection from Thread is a deal more important. We keep extra linens about to help soak up excess water should it become too much of a problem and to offer some traction should the floor become slippery,” she clasped her hands behind her back as Mara surveyed something else beyond her, waiting.

She turned her head as the woman spoke again to look at the object of the conversation before turning back to Mara, “I believe the infirmary has gotten a bit out of order since our last Master Healer passed. I suppose someone thought them safest from the flooding as far away from the ground as possible, though I see your concern. As our new Master Healer you are of course free to organize the infirmary as you see fit. I only ask that you leave my little dragonhealing corner as is.” She kept the things she most often used in her own healing arts in a separate part of the infirmary, closer to the ledge where dragons could land which was often where she and those few dragonhealers under her treated their draconian patients. “There are so few here at Mavros who know how to heal dragons, it is imperative that we be as efficient as possible during Threadfall. If our supplies were suddenly rearranged it could cause catastrophe.”

She thought of her own dragon, her poor Verdath who would never fly in the higher wings again, too injured from a horrible threadscore not so long ago. Her hands tightened their hold on each other behind her back at the memory. Her apprentice Talaria had done much of the work on her poor dragon for her because she had been too distraught to have a steady enough hand…. She did not doubt that Talaria had done her best, and she had overseen her and given her instructions the whole way, but she was still in training… if only she had been able to work on Verdath herself, perhaps her little green would still be flaming thread as she so loved instead of hovering in the Queen’s wing. She had cursed a rider’s inability to keep a clear head when their dragon was injured that day. She was the most experienced dragonhealer at Mavros by a long shot and she had not been able to save her own dragon’s ability to fly threadfall.

She cleared her throat to clear the emotion from her mind, and voice, as Mara went on about changed she would like made, “I will bring your request for a lockable cabinet to the Weyrwoman and ask her to have one brought in for you as soon as possible, as well as your other requests.” She HAD been around for the old Weyrleader’s fellis abuse. He had hid it decently until he did not show up for the meeting of the council of Weyrleaders and was later found heavily induced and not in his right mind. She had no wish for a repeat of that either and she was sure Karredy would agree. “I would think another healer should have access to it, I have little use for fellis in my line of work. However, until you get to know the healers here and decide who you could trust with the access to it, I could be the second if you wished. Assuming you would be okay with trusting me with access.”

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Mara nodded absently when Zenelle spoke of linens to help soak up water. Her mind was searching out a more permanent solution, as there were any number of problems she could foresee apart from just slippery floors. Rust and rot were two problems, as she didn’t particularly want such things near any wounds, as it might infect them and make whatever problem that much worse. Standing water attracted insects, another concern she had. And what if they encountered serious flooding in the middle of the huge numbers of casualties threadfall could cause? But Mara shook her head, saving such problems for after she’d gotten some decent sleep.

Zenelle struck Mara as competent and reasonable, for which she was extraordinarily grateful. She knew less than she’d like about dragon anatomy, despite her days spent in Weyrs, and her lack of a dragon would make such work difficult for her regardless. Dragons were half their riders, and Mara was glad that she could leave half the welfare of her patients in Zenelle’s hands. That, at least, was one less thing she had to worry about. Mara waved her hand dismissively as Zenelle asked her to leave her area alone in her rearrangements of the space. “Of course. I’d no more move your tools than I’d tell a Harper how to use their instruments.” She grumbled at the mention of someone thinking bandages would be safest from flooding higher up, questioning the intelligence of whoever had done so, but let it rest at that. Mara knew she’d probably have to call all the healers together to explain how she was going to be running things, as well as tell them where they could expect to find everything. She’d chew out the Gather-fools who’d allowed the infirmary to become so disorganized then.

“Believe me, Zenelle, I understand the dangers wounded dragons can pose. I also know how seconds can mean the difference between a patient’s recovery and permanent damage. I’ll leave your supplies alone. I ask the same professional courtesy in return of course, but I doubt you and I will have any problems.” Mara could be wrong, of course. She had been in the past, but she didn’t think Zenelle would be anything like certain Dragonhealers in the past, who had been expecting Mara to denounce them as not being ‘real’ healers and had insulted her first. Zenelle seemed perfectly professional.

Mara nodded in thanks at Zenelle’s promise to bring the cabinet as soon as possible. “I appreciate it,” she said. She listened as Zenelle explained that she didn’t use fellis much for Dragonhealing. Mara supposed that made sense. Dragons weren’t particularly known for their need for narcotics. Humans, on the other hand, could be downright obnoxious when they were in pain, and Mara had been known to use liberal amounts of numbweed wherever she could to shut them up. “The second healer’s access to is more to hold me accountable than anything else,” Mara explained. “I don’t have a history of using the stuff, but you really only have my word on that, don’t you? I’d rather have someone else, someone trusted, who can check the supplies to make sure my word is good. As far as trusting you with access, I’ll be checking the supplies myself from time to time. I doubt there’ll be a problem, but if there is, I’ll just have someone else act as my second.” She shrugged. She was willing to trust Zenelle’s professionalism. And if it was proven to be a façade, it wouldn’t be at all difficult to get her to give up the key to the cabinet. It was less a matter of trust, and more of practicality.