• Completed • Wet Cement

[Ashira Ward]

Vhalar 78

Children are like wet cement, whatever falls on them makes an impression.

Though she was still treating whatever patients showed up on her doorstep, Ashira found the work at the Skye Verath Lodge to be rewarding enough, both monetarily and in the soul deep sense of getting something done and with patients who didn't (couldn't!) complain, that it had become fairly regular. If she'd no patients of her own, didn't have plants to tend, mixtures to muddle or extract, scrivening to do or plans with Everett, she went to the Lodge as often as not.

She still hadn't got her own leathers though which was a sorry state of affairs. As much as your nose soon largely stopped working in self defense, or hers did anyway, putting on the clothes that stunk of both the beasts and more offensively someone elses sweat would never be enjoyable. She really had to get her own. Then she could clean them properly. Unfortunately her mental list of things she had to do was long enough that some didn't get seen to in a timely fashion. This was one of them. It wasn't really an issue, she would live, it was just distasteful. And if honesty were in effect... Ashira felt it was beneath her. Communal uniforms were only one step away from wearing someone elses cast-offs.

Eventually geared up and ready for the trial, she headed for the Jacadon stables.

"I thought I'd best warn you ahead of time."

"Ah?" Ashira queried, head turning to take in the Blazer. She still couldn't have said what his name was, though she recognized him easily enough. In her head he was just the man who went with Errol, who she remembered largely because Errol was a ridiculous name for a Jacadon and he'd been recovering from arrow wounds. Now healed, with only a scar to show and even that hidden beneath his feathers.

"We've a few young unbonded Jacadon in the stables, no manners, I'd leave those be. None of them are really injured so far as I know anyway."

"Ah? Isn't that... unusual?"

"Very! It was the rains, washed a batch of them out to sea, further than beasties that young ought to be. Luckily they were noticed and we may even have managed to get them all, though odds are good we lost a few. Most were returned to their parents but a few were either in too bad shape or no adult came for them so... they wound up here. Too valuable to lose any if we can help it!"

"So stay away from any younglings I see, got it."

"Mm, a nip from a pup is an inconvenience, a nip from a Jacadon chick.."

"I'd as rather not spend my trial trying to stitch myself up! Thank you! How is Errol? No incidents?"

"No! I don't think his scars bother him at all, he flies just like he used to. Ha! Take more than a few damned rebels to ground us!"

"I imagine it would." She smiled and then glanced around. The stables were much fuller than usual, and many of the people she didn't know, and extremely unusually, they didn't seem to be doing anything in particular, just... loitering. She gestured to them. "What's going on?"

"Aaah frig. Well it's them chicks. We've got all these bloody tits mooning about hoping they're going to bond one through proximity. As if any Jacadon were ever impressed enough by someone making sad eyes through a window to fly with them. Ha! Just cuss 'em out if they get in the way."

"That explains it. Thanks!" With a wave, Ashira moved to start her rounds.

[Ashira Ward]

She still didn't do much of the immediate emergency care of the beasts, and she was fine with that. Through duty and mishap there were more than enough scratches, scrapes, bruises and strains for her to manage the follow-up of. Not only that, but because she was working with their beasts, she found some of the Blazers coming into her care as well. The military had their own medics of course, but these were exactly the sorts of men and women who, particularly if their beasts had so much as cracked a nail, were too busy fussing over their charges to see to themselves. Luckily they didn't seem to care that Ashira had next to no bedside manner and had on one rather memorable occasion snatched a fish a Blazer was trying to feed to his Jacadon and smacked him with it until he did what she wanted. Which largely consisted of getting proper care.

She'd even come to a truce with the Jacadon she privately referred to as 'that vicious bastard'. His behaviour made much more sense once she knew his history of course, but that didn't make him any easier to actually deal with on a regular basis. Apparently once it was decided he wasn't dying though, the other healers had largely written him off. The fact that he kept lunging and steaming at them probably had something to do with this. Ashira was still no beast whisperer. She'd just kept throwing drugged fish in and waiting for him to go to sleep before going in to treat him. Until one particularly memorable day.

The fish had gone in about half way through her rounds. He often refused to eat it immediately, but always gave in eventually, so she'd stopped waiting until she was ready to see him. Coming back at the end of the day, she looked in to see him fast asleep. Back rising and falling steadily, and the occasional snore escaping him. She'd let herself in. He was immediately rising and lunging for the door, revealing the untouched fish he'd hidden beneath himself. Ashira managed to latch it, but was once again stuck in the pen with him. He still scared her, but it wasn't the sort of terror she'd felt before. This was a beast she'd checked on regularly, and though she still knew very little, she'd come to realize that the fact he hadn't injured her at all in his 'first attack' could only have been intentional. These jacadon were trained to fight after all.

So while she did back away, pressing herself into the back wall to give him his space as he snarled and bit the air, she didn't cower. Instead she crossed her arms and glared at him. He glared back. Eventually he settled down, though he remained pressed against the stall door. Moving slowly and smoothly, her hindbrain absolutely horrified at what she was doing, sure she was going to die, and trying her best not to startle him, she approached him. And was rewarded with more growling and snapping.

"No. You stand." She put as much command into her voice as she could and then did her best to ignore him as she moved to check his wound. A blast of steam was let loose over her head, raising the temperature and humidity, but when that failed to elicit a response with growls that sounded more like grumbles, he pointedly ignored her. She checked and saw that his infection was still gone, and the wounds coming along quite nicely. That was really all she had to do with him. The problem came with the fact that he absolutely positively refused to move. She could just reach past him, but she wouldn't be able to squeeze past him, he'd be out of the stall before her and from her understanding, gone. She did not want to be responsible for turning a Jacadon loose.

No command from her could budge him, and so they had a standoff. It went on for several breaks. Ashira refusing to need to be saved again, the Jacadon refusing to give up his chance for freedom.

Success eventually came from an unlikely and undignified front. There is only so long a woman who believes in proper hydration can be forced to stand anywhere without relief. Eventually, growing desperate, but still not desperate enough to let him out, instead waiting for him to eat the fish or just fall asleep naturally, Ashira clandestinely peered at all possible vantage points into the stall, established that no one was watching, hiked up her dress, squatted, and peed.

The effect was immediate. The beasts head jerked up, he snorted, and looked at her with an expression that she would swear up and down was one of mortal offence. Making his way over with speed that belied his size, he insistently pushed her toward the door first with his head and then with a wing, while he started blasting the offending patch of stall with steam.

"Serves you right." Ashira commented, letting herself out and closing the door promptly behind her.

After that she'd not had to drug him again and he'd not played silly buggers with the door. It wasn't as if they were suddenly friends, but he did pointedly ignore her every time she entered, even when she was tending to him. The worst he'd done since was to non-chalantly roll over so she couldn't see the part of him she was coming to check, but when she'd moved away from him and pointedly started to hike up her skirt, he'd immediately sprung up and stood, giving her a look that let her know exactly what he thought of her dirty tactics before going back to ignoring her.

As long as it got the job done, she didn't much care.

[Ashira Ward]

She was in with him that afternoon, towards the end of her trial again, rubbing down the scar from his injury with a mixture of sugar and almond oil. Most of the jacadons scars she'd been able to leave alone. They tended to be simple puncture scars. Only really a problem healing wise when they came from a lance or spear. It was far more common for them to be arrow wounds, and those, assuming they'd been treated right when they were new, usually healed easily and without problem. Only rarely did someone with with enough force, or in one of the feathered regions where a blade could do damage, otherwise their scales made relatively effective armour. Ashira wasn't quite sure who or what had made the wound he had, but it had bitten through his scales down into his skin. A few of his scales had actually wound up falling out. She supposed this was rather like if you dropped something heavy on your foot and a nail blackened and fell off before growing back. She wasn't sure if Jacadon regrew lost scales though. Either way, that wasn't really her concern.

The scar seemed to bother him, and half the reason it had taken so long to heal was that he kept scratching at it, which had removed the bandages in the early trials, and kept reopening or causing slightly more damage as they progressed. The sugar and almond oil mixture both exfoliated and moisturised, seriously reducing the irritation and encouraging him to leave it alone, as well as promoting healthy skin growth and keeping the scar from getting too tight. She hadn't been able to use it until the wound was properly closed of course, since you wouldn't really want it in an open wound. It was actually a mixture she'd be happy to use on her own skin, and on the plus side, doing it for him left her hands nice and soft when by all rights she should have a decent set of calluses built up by now.

In the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of some yelling going on elsewhere in the stable. She paid it no mind though. There was often some yelling, and today with all the 'moonies' as she's mentally dubbed them, that was especially true. When it continued to grow in volume and intensity, she started to tune in a little bit. When a pained shriek ripped through the air she was jolted immediately into the here and now. That was someone who was hurt. She moved for the door, Jacadon temporarily forgotten. He'd be fine. Whoever had let loos that scream however...

She opened the stall door, the Jacadon behind her raising his head in interest to watch her, looking from the healer to the abandoned bowl of medicine on the floor. Clearly the job was unfinished and the routine was off. As soon as Ashira began to move forward, our into the main corridor she was bowled off her feet, back into the stall. A young Jacadon, somewhere in size between a large dog and a small pony, realising what it had run into, and seeing that the newly opened door led not to freedom, but to an even more confined space, hissed and took a bite at her. Ashira, with its weight atop her, could not roll away, could only raise her one free arm to shield her face, waiting to feel its sharp teeth rip into her. Already she was thinking of the damage. Like dogs they tended to grab and shake. Even assuming that it didn't break her arm, which it likely would, an unclean break in at least two places, it would lacerate her flesh. If she was lucky she would keep the arm. If she was very lucky she would have full use of it.

She did not feel very lucky.

Like a miracle from the Seven though, the chick (and how inappropriate that innocuous term seemed for that ball of rage) was suddenly sent tumbling off of her back out into the corridor. A large feathered underbelly passed over Ashiras line of site as the adult Jacadon moved forward, out of the stall. In her mind two thought warred, and one came out victorious hands down. The loser was 'Damn, now there's two Jacadon on the loose!' the winner was just an overwhelming sense of relied. Quite frankly if it meant that she was safe, every damned beast in the Lodge could fly off to Sirothelle as far as she was concerned.

Rising, when the tail was clear of her, and ready to lock herself into the safety of the stall alone if necessary, Ashira peered out, only the memory of the scream making her do even that. She was flabbergasted to see the older, scarred Jacadon outright sitting on the squalling youngster, one wing moving to keep it's head covered and prevent it from spitting steam at or biting any of the Blazers or Handlers who came to the scene. The moonies had been scared or chased out.

Ashira did not have time for such things though. As much as she might like to sit and gawk, instinct was kicking in. Triage. Ignore things that weren't your job. Ignore distractions. Trotting down the hall, she pushed into a knot of people. There on the floor, out cold was one of the moonies. A blazer was clutching the boys hand, grasping a rag to it. The rag, and the floor in that area were soaked with blood.

[Ashira Ward]

"What happened?"

"Fucking idiot thought he'd let himself into the chicks stall and win it over with a salt lick. Didn't even close the door behind him."

The implication was clear. Hoping to become a blazer without ever needing to leave home, the boy had put himself in harms way. That was the problem with boys. With all young people really. They thought they were invinceable. They had no fear, no sense of mortality to keep them safe.

"Let me see."

He briefly removed the rag, the blood started spilling again immediately.

"Good, pressure again. Warm water, more clean rags, bandages, scalpel, stitch kit. Go. You stay and keep pressure on him, you're stronger than I. Oh and a rope or belt someone. Thank you."

The blazers moved to obey. They were military trained men and women after all, and in matters of healing, they responded to a healer, civilian or not. The boys pinkie was gone entirely, his ring finger half gone, his middle missing the tip. All in all Ashira considered him lucky. Assuming she could pull this off, he'd keep the use of the hand. It would likely be ugly. Though not true surgery, this touched on it. Her stitches were not things of beauty. Good. It would remind him not to be so stupid.

"Should we fetch a painkiller?"

She considered this for a moment and then shrugged. "He's passed out. It's not needful. If he comes to yes, if not it would be a waste. Besides, if he goes fully into shock I'd just as rather not have him on too many drugs as well."

As soon as the supplies were run back, she began. First the rope to rig a tourniquet. She did not like or trust tourniquets. Far too many people used them when they shouldn't and caused more damage than they should, but she needed the bleeding slowed while she worked. Next, with the blazer still assisting her she worked, one finger at a time. Reveal the finger while pressure was kept on the other two. Use the scalpel to cut off what was too damaged, to make the loss clean so it would heal faster, as well as to give her a small flap of skin to work with. Make sure there were no bone fragments within the wound. Wash it clean, stitch the flip down and over to cover. Three times she did this, unaware of what was going on around her, focused only on the task at hand. When it was done, she removed the tourniquet, watched to see if it would keep bleeding overly much, and then when she assured herself he was not going to bleed to death, bandaged each individual finger and then the hand as a whole.

Finally she looked up, covered in Stable dust, blood and sweat. "Right. Whoever's taking charge of him, he ought to be watched till he wakes up, preferably by a healer. When he does he likely will need a painkiller. That wound will need to be watched closely for infection. I've never treated a jacadon bite, but I know other animal bites often go foul. The stitches will need at least ten trials, assuming nothing goes sideways. If he's not a squire, and doesn't belong to anyone, drop him off with the Order and make him there problem, but someone needs to watch him."

"We'll take care of it."

She hadn't noticed Gaspard arrive. She blinked at him for a moment. Of course he would be there though. After the excitement that had just occurred, of course he would be. Ashira didn't care anymore. She'd been going on sheer adrenaline, kept as keen as she could be made. Nor she was drained. Tired.

"Right. I'm going home." She'd put away her tools first. Habit ingrained on her from childhood ensured that. Picking up all the bits and pieces she rose. She stopped, remembering the bowl of sugar and almond oil. Waking back to that stall, she looked in. The older Jacadon was within it again, back to the door. He often did this, as if to show his disdain for all those within the Lodge. All those who weren't his dead rider. So he'd not escaped then. That was good she supposed. She didn't know what they intended to do with him though. He was largely healed. You couldn't force a Jacadon to bear a rider after all. They couldn't keep him penned up forever. She supposed one day she'd come in and he'd be gone. Such was the way of things.

With a sigh she let herself in, for the spotted the bowl still on the floor. Likely whoever had put him back had been more focused on just getting the famously cranky beast back in with as little fuss as possible, not on what was on the floor. Glancing back at her with a snort, he shifted slightly, wing moving just so to expose his scar again.

She looked at him incredulously for a moment and then barked out a laugh. No one could say Jacadon weren't smart.

"Tch, you're a spoiled beast, but I suppose you've earned it." She allowed, setting the other tools down. Making sure her hands were at least reasonably clean, she scooped out more of the mixture and went back to treating his scar. When she was done she would go home. That was soon enough.

[Siren]

Name: Ashira Ward

Knowledge:
Errol: Completely recovered
Skye Verath Lodge: Has unbonded Jacadon chicks
Animal Husbandry: Using a commanding voice
Animal Husbandry: Hiding sedatives in meat
Detection: Noticing signs of infection
Animal Husbandry: Jacadon: Do not like other scents in their stalls
Animal Husbandry: Holding your ground
Medicine: Sugar and almond oil for scars
Medicine: Using a tourniquet
Surgery: Using a scalpel to trim damaged flesh
Surgery: Stitching
Medicine: Washing a wound

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Fame: +1 general good deed

Story: 5
Collaboration: N/A
Structure: 5

Comment:
Nice little work thread. You injected just enough action into it to keep things interesting without having things overbearing. You did a great job with the Jacadon. Structure looked good to me.

If you feel that I've missed anything or have any questions or comments, please PM me!