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Fixing What Ain't Broken (Pinfeathers)

Started by hinotorihime, March 13, 2018, 07:51:25 PM

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hinotorihime

Sveta has her huge boots on, because it's spring and ankle-deep in mud, so she clumps into the clinic with her skirts hiked up to her knee. Professionalism is all very well and good; but this skirt has lasted her 6 years and she despises sewing so she'll do whatever it takes to make it last 6 more.

She sets her bag on the table, kicks off her boots, and jostles at the sticky window until it opens, and then fetches her mortar so she can work on Gisil's lung medicine while she waits for her patients to start coming in.

The sun's almost at its midpoint by the time the bell on the door rings, and she's run out of medicines to prepare and is working on her herbary, so she looks up almost with relief. Squinting at her own terrible handwriting is giving her a headache.

"Good morning," she says brusquely. "How can I assist you?"

Pinfeathers

A young woman stumbles in, right hand clutching her left arm, hair like gold falling around her face, and a very flustered page at her side, stammering anxiously. The woman was looking pale - her left arm was stained with blood that was seeping through the fingers of her hand.  She seemed to have been roughed up - dirt smudged across her face and hair falling out of its usual braided bun.   
"God, Paida, will you shut it?" The woman hissed to the girl at her side, and leaned against the doorframe, "it's just a damn scratch."
Lifting her eyes to the woman in front of her, Saitha's expression softens and she smiles.  "Good afternoon, I'm here because I've suffered a bit of a -"

"Oh for god's sake," the page, who was, apparently, Paida, spoke up, "she got into a bar fight and the bastard sliced her arm open with a knife."

The blonde rolled her eyes and seemed to give the herbalist an apologetic look.  "Look, it's just a scratch, the only problem is, I can't feel my fingers.  Think you could fix me back up?"


hinotorihime

Sveta puts down her herbary and fixes the woman with a disapproving stare.

"If you 'can't feel your fingers', its almost certainly more than just a scratch. Hmph. Knights are all the same. Damn machismo. Worse than teenage boys, sometimes."

She gestures absently to the bench in the corner.

"Sit down. How much water have you drunk today? No, don't answer that. I can guarantee it wasn't enough. Miss Paida, grab that pitcher over there and make your mistress take care of her dehydration."

As she speaks, she's grabbing up her tools, tucking a bag under her chin and one over her shoulder, and crosses the room to kneel in front of the knight. She takes her arm, twists it to see better, and clucks her tongue, frown deepening.

"You've a nicked tendon. Why are people such idiots? 'Just a scratch' my foot--"

Despite her apparent displeasure, her hands are cool and gentle, moving quickly and efficiently to smear a numbing salve on the edges of the wound.

"Hold still," she commands. "I'll have to suture this."

Pinfeathers

Siatha sat down as ordered, but seemed indignant about it.  She winced as her arm was snatched at and twisted, but quickly restored her expression.

"Do you happen to treat all your patients this way?" she asked, allowing a slight smirk as she side-eyed the other woman. 

Saitha leaned over to Paida, and murmured just loud enough to be heard - "if this is the case we won't come drinking on this side of town again, eh?" she accepted the pitcher, and started to drink down the water, not realizing how thirsty she really was.  With a sigh of relief, she emptied the pitcher and set it down in front of her on the table, wiping her mouth dry. 

"You know, us knights work hard.  You could be a little grateful."


hinotorihime

"As a matter of fact, I do," Sveta retorted. "I show gratitude when someone earns it-- preferably by being sensible enough to not cause more work for me. I have enough to do right now without patching up idiots who think with their fists. It's pneumonia season."

Her sharp eyes notice the empty pitcher. "Good. Now Paida, go fill it up again from the well out back. And you-- what's your name?-- hold STILL. For the gods' sake, I'm trying to stitch your sinew back together!"

She emphasizes the statement with a firm tug on the suturing thread, pulling the sides of the tear together.

"Can you move your fingers?"

Pinfeathers

"Oh honestly, 'think with their fists'?  I do have a brain up here, my dear.  And it's thinking quite a lot about you right now," she huffed, obviously disgruntled by this.  This was a lie.  In fact, she didn't really know what to think.  She had dealt with "difficult" people before ("difficult" being "people who don't fall for my charm"), but this woman was different somehow. 

"AAH-" her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp tug the other woman administered, and Siatha gave her a sharp look.  "That was unnecessary," she said, wincing. 

She flexed her fingers though - it seemed the rough treatment was working.  "Fingers are back.  And I'm Siatha, by the way.  Eiteltion." She always made sure people knew her last name.  It was easily recognized, after all. 

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