[Whitevine Clinic] Precaution (Ronan)

[Oluse]

Spring 17 512

Oluse entered the main hall, and waiting area, of the Whitevine Healing Center with a large mug of caffeinated tea in his hand, calmly indulging in the strong scent of the infusion's steam curling up into the air about him, undiluted by sugar or cream. The room itself was tall, and large enough for two heavy ornate couches, three lounge chairs, four small coffee tables, one large center table as well as enough walking room around the furniture set up to allow even the largest of people to be brought through to the surrounding work rooms where patients could seek privacy or emergency attention before being moved upstairs for long term assistance or released back to the bustling relief effort outside the heavy doors. The furniture set in a pleasing arrangement around the giant fireplace which stood directly across the room from the doorway, offering warmth to those without the grace of Morwen, that wished for the peaceful crackling and popping sounds from the giant logs which stoked the ever burning flames, or enjoyed basking in the bright orangish ambient light.

Oluse had been overworked ever since the sudden Djed storm, which had aptly been called "The Melt" by those around the Clinic. Patients who had been injured in the initial flood had all been treated a week before, and only those in critical condition remained under constant watch. This had left Oluse with slightly more time from his medical duties. He had, instead, been working more as a steward for the Vantha and any others left without home and lodging. All of which the clinic had kindly opened their doors for. Never had Oluse seen the clinic so packed, even the main hall was full of at least a dozen people, and each bed was taken, with only a few places remaining for walk ins. The clinic had not forgotten their duty to heal and still put the injured above all others, but they did what they could to avoid malnutrition and exposure to the weather as well. This meant that each employee of the clinic was enlisted to help cook, and bring food around, as well as the mentally demanding job of regulating food after the floor of the Windterflame crops.

That morning Oluse had already assisted in the rounds to bring food to all, having begun the task before day break. Overworked, tired, but fulfilled, he was gently reminded by Seiled to take a break. And so, Oluse did. Or, at least, intended to. He settled down on a free spot upon one of the couched with his steaming mug, and managed a few sips before his work ethic pushed him to stand again, and fetch a light blanket for a young Vantha women, a coworker of his, which had fallen asleep on one of the couch, curled up comfortably, far from wakefulness in the wake of her own exhaustive shift. Oluse lay the blanket carefully over her, and smiled both at her, and a couple near by that watched him do so. Oluse very much enjoyed the feeling of community that the Clinic had taken on in the weeks following the Melt, though the horror of the event was far from lost to him, as he got to see the worse of the storm's effects on the unprepared Vantha. He had never been one to escape his work place much at all, and as such his exposure to the community at large had been limited, but now he felt he could care for everybody. Really make a difference.

He scooped up the sleeping women's empty mug upon the coffee table beside her, and went to walk it to the kitchen when he felt the very familiar rush of displacing air around him, followed by a chilling cold. And to this he looked to the door to see who might be entering at such an early hour.

[Ronan]

It had been a day since they had arrived in Avanthal, and the storm's destruction had still not sunken in to Ronan's mind. As he looked around at the destroyed buildings and flooded city, he felt a pang of pain in his heart. Endrykas... the tents would be have been swept clean away, if the storm had struck there. And Riverfall. Sanctuary.

Kavala.

He just couldn't think about it anymore.

Now, the Whitevine Clinic rose before him. He was not severely injured in any case, but some of the cuts had been sharp and deep. He had found no recognisable herbs here in Taldera, and his own supply was running low. He feared infection in the wounds, and slowing down his travelling party.

That was why he came to the clinic, hoping for a healer that could check the wounds, and do whatever was necessary to prevent any infection starting, or even spreading.

As he left the cold, he rubbed a hand through his thickening hair, and the bristles on his chin. He hadn't shaved for a long while now, though his hair did not grow as fast as some men. He was not a wildman yet.

He walked into the Clinic, escaping the tumultuous ruins of Avanthal.

[Oluse]

Oluse looked over the man who passed through the passage to his domain. He was walking fine, which Oluse noticed before observing that he wasn't Vantha. He thought Denvali as first, but the thought didn't last long at all. He didn't recognize the man, he couldn't be Denvali. He was built, obviously a traveler. Sunkissed skin, with an unkept crop of hair. Mostly prominently, but last for Oluse to notice, was the dagger he kept upon him.

He gave a smile, and set the empty mug, and his own, down on the large center table, before walking toward the stranger. He chose common, and with his thick Denvali accent he gave his usual greeting. "Hello, Sir. My name is Oluse, and I'm a trained practitioner here. I can help you with whatever you need." His words were mistrusted by many due to his stature, clearly revealing his age to be no more than fourteen possibly fifteen. This did not change the fact they were words of utter truth.

At this distance Oluse could tell the ever so slight favor Ronan lended to his off leg. Either he was a master of ignoring pain or his wounds were no serious. Though, he looked much like he had been stuck in the storm, his clothes ripped worn and tattered. His eyes spent an extra moment lingering on a hint of a scrape which shown out the concealing corner or his shirt collar, before he finally looked receptively to Ronan waiting to hear what he needed.

[Ronan]

The healer that approached him couldn't be any older than fifteen. It didn't bother Ronan though - if the man was trained, that was all that mattered. Youth was rarely a barrier among the Drykas.

"Greetings," Ronan said, giving the young man a faint smile, "I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I was caught in the storm. It's nothing major. Just a few cuts and bruises. I just wanted someone to check them, if that's alright."

The city was strangely warm, and that carried into its buildings too. Avanthal was a frozen city, home of Morwen, and so this temperature was far from normal. But the storm had brought strange occurrences with it. They had witnessed some of the erratic effects in the reaches.

That fear returned again, creasing his brow. Home. Cyphrus. Would it even be standing when they returned?

[Oluse]

Oluse smiled softly through his own fatigue, pleased to meet a man that took responsibility of his own body. The Vantha too often had the habit of waiting until infection had already taken hold, or days after a fracture to seek medical help, a constant annoyance of Oluse.

"Of course, Sir. It is very responsible of you to have yourself checked. We were all stuck in the storm, but I haven't seen many that were in the Tundra when it hit. I'm frankly surprised you made it out so in tact." He motioned toward a large door leading into an empty room a dozen paces away, to the left of the entrance. "If you'll come in here it should only take a few minutes, and we can have some privacy from the masses."

As began to walk he decided to fill the newcomer in a bit on what had been happening in the city, specifically the clinic. "This is the Whitevine Healing Center, and in the wake of the sudden storm that hit we immediately opened our doors to all those that were injured by the Melt, as is our job. You see the Clinic is made of less ice than most the city was, so we were saved from the brunt of the Melt, save for some flooding in the base level. So, as we began to getting a handle on the influx of patients, which we were ashamedly unprepared for, we opened out doors for any left homeless in the Melt. So practically every room is filled, but we have a few places left for hammocks if then Warrens are still full and you need a place to stay."

He lended the Drykas another smile as he ushered him into the large room, centered by a heavy table capable of supporting the largest of men, bordered by two chair of equal fortitude, and several pieces of furniture holding medical supplies in the room. "In addition," he continued as he mindlessly walked to a vial display shelf and began pulling infusions off of it, "we have ceased all charges for emergency medical treatment for the season as we recover. It is the opinion of the Whitevine Healing Center that crisis is no place to be making a profit, not when all of Avanthal is in dire financial order. Instead we are accepting donation as our patients will."

Setting the vials on the large table, he offhandedly instructed, "Please, show me where you are hurt, ho ahead and pull the door shut if you need to disrobe." He then tilted his tight neck back and forth, with a series of feint popping sounds, and grabbed for a stretch of cloth which would be used to clean out the wounds.

"So where are you from, traveler?" He asked still not knowing the man's name, but it being very clear he hadn't been in Avanthal since the attack due mostly do tot he state of his hygiene, primarily his pungent smell. Oluse thought a moment about explaining where he was from, but he feared for Denval, and the heavy thought kept him from speaking of his home. The storm has originated from Denval's direction, and a part of him very much feared what that might mean for Denval. It does not dawn on the boy that the question might be just as invasive tot he traveler as it would be to himself. Instead, he reached for the stretches of gos he would use to wrap the man's cuts it necessary.

[Ronan]

Ronan was grateful for the man's generosity, and followed him to the treatment room, listening to everything he said. Avanthal had been hit hard - but he had heard rumours, that the storm had started in Kalea. The grasses would have taken a knock too - a serious knock.

Ronan pushed the door gently shut so he could lift his shirt up and over his head. Dark windmarks twisted around his right arm and the right half of his lightly muscled chest. The marks covered some of the cuts, but on the left of his body they were more visible. One large red streak cut just below his pectoral muscles, and his left arm was cut deeply in several places.

"Well that's very charitable," he said with a nod at the man's information, words slightly clumsy with the common tongue, "I'd like to think all the healing centres are doing the same thing. If there was ever a time for healers - now would be a start..."

Kavala was a healer herself. Perhaps she was helping others in Riverfall - providing she hadn't been injured herself. If they had gone into the bowels of Sanctuary where she had taken him before, perhaps they could have weathered the storm. He could only hope.

"Oh. Sorry. I'm Ronan of the Windsong pavilion. I'm from Endrykas... the Sea of Grass in Cyphrus. In fact, this is the first time I've been out of my home region."

He looked at the healer, busying himself with his materials. Ronan traced his fingers along the windmarks again, remembering the night of Sam and Issi's wedding. The night when he and Kavala had slept in the stables.

"You don't look Vantha? At least, not completely. May I ask the same of you?"

[Oluse]

Oluse opened his mouth to respond, but to the sight of Ronan's gashes stopped, frowned, and closed his mouth a moment to process. He stepped forward to have a closer look, then said with some measure of wonder, "These were pretty deep. I'm surprised you haven't been more verbal about them. How badly do they hurt? And do you feel any itching or burning?" Oluse asked to make sure but everything was checking out properly, having cast aside his tendency to assume such things after all the odd wounds he saw inflicted by the storm.

Pressing two of his fingers firmly, but with even pressure around the outside of the man's cuts he felt for temperature and consistency. They sure felt like they were healing well, but there was no way to be sure, Oluse would need to clean out past the scabs which had formed to make sure nothing was trapped underneath, and hope that he didn't make the situation worse.

"Ok," he started as he walked to the collection of vials he had retrieved and picked up a very strong infusion of Lemon, Cinnamon, Echinacea and other tempered herbs which helped against infection and would be strong enough to help weaken the scabs which had formed upon Ronan's wounds. Most at the clinic preferred more aggressive herbal remedies that could get the job done at a quicker pace. But, Oluse felt since he was supposed to be on break anyway there was no harm in taking his time, not that being in a hurry ever prompted different behavior on his part. "I'm going to apply this to your scabs there, to soften them. Then let it soak a few minutes while you drink some tea that should help thicken your blood a bit before I remove your scabs and make sure you are clean. You can expect some pain, but it shouldn't be too bad. I'll go slow and be careful."

Oluse then rolled one of the vials over onto a spotless rag and began applying the cool potion to Ronan's tender wounds. As he did so he finally remembered there was questions still hanging in the air, so he addressed them with slow speech, lagged slightly by his focus on his work. When he had first begun working at the clinic he could hardly ever speak a word to his patients without fumbling or forgetting important steps to his work. But, after three seasons he had grown comfortable in the clinic, and in his work. To a degree he had grown comfortable with himself as well. "You're right I'm not Vantha. Well not entirely. You see my grandmother was, she married a traveling Denvali man, then had a daughter, my mother. When my grandmother died they both moved back to Denval where my mother met my father through the study of medicine." He gave a slight smile as he worked and spoke. He wasn't prone to speaking of his family, but somehow he felt Ronan would understand, he seemed the type of man who would, not to mention the freedom of speaking in common for once, and in the wake of the Melt everybody in Avanthal had been more sentimental by in large.

A moment after the smile arrived, it faded, just as mysteriously, and he finished his sentence. "So I am Denvali." There was a significant ring of guilt which came along with this statement, as well as a notable tinge of doubt. No confidence to be found as he carefully finished applying the infusion, and returned to the table, pulling out a delicate calcinater to begin warming water for the tea.

Still looking away, trying to think of how to continue the conversation, his mind still more than half preoccupied with his work, Oluse finally decided to turn the conversation back on his patient as he worked at striking the tinder for spark in the soft light of the hanging lamps within the room. "I've never been out of Kalea and Taldera. I don't believe Cyphrus is in either, is it? What are your people like? What is your land like?" Oluse wanted to ask other questions, ones that were more personal. He wondered if Ronan had family there, anybody he thought about. He wondered if Ronan intended to go back.

Instead, he left his question at that and finished setting the water up, moving onto adding herbs into the tea which would also help fight infection, and help the otherwise very bitter taste a bit. Medicine was made to heal, but he could never figure out why everybody had to always make it taste so horrid. He did what he could to help that sad fact whenever he could. Doing that he pushed the copious amounts of hair from his face, and made the final decision that before the end of the week he would take Kaire up on the haircut she offered. He needed it badly, it was getting in the way of his work.

[Ronan]

"They're a little uncomfortable, but nothing more."

He didn't want to say, but the Drykas were hardy folks. You couldn't live among the grass without getting cut up a few times.

Ronan nodded at the explanation of family. A Denvali man. He knew very little of Denval, only what he had heard from travellers. It was an isolated little town. He spared a thought for its existence post-storm - how well would such a small outpost hold up?

He shook his head with a smile, as he allowed Oluse to perform his medicinal duties. "Oh no, Cyphrus is its own region. It is a land of grass, geysers, and travelling people. There are the Drykas like myself, and the Akalak in Riverfall too. Our people are hardened, tough, but close to the earth and nature too. We are part of the horse clans, and the pavilions. Our Striders are a part of us."

He watched the dark haired man tend to his wounds for a moment, before thinking to ask a similar question in return.

"I don't know a lot about Denval. And how did you end up here, in Avanthal?"

[Oluse]

Oluse's hands calmed to stillness after the project was well underway and could self maintain a bit as they spoke, wishing they had something else to do aside from wait . The question had put him a little on edge, not with defensiveness against Ronan, but his own emotions. It was after all a fair question in return to his own. He wondered a moment if his own question had brought Ronan any discomfort, and he hoped not. This wasn't his job, his job was to heal and comfort not drudge up unwanted feelings that were far too close to the surface already in such a delicate time. After a moment longer than needed Oluse turned, relaxed, but more morose than he was at first.

"Denval is a wonderful city on the sea. The Summers are warm and bring in the strong smell of fish, and bathe hills of flowers in warm sunlight. The winters are harsh and Denvali struggles with low rations to stay alive. I suppose with," His voice shook a bit, and he began to question if this was a conversation he was actually capable of having, "with the storm this next winter will be very harsh. But, at least it waited till after winter broke. And Denvali are strong so, I am sure it will be fine." He was the one to say it, and even doubted the attempt at assurance in his voice. And to this he cast his eyes down slightly, and gave a quiet sigh.

When he looked back up a moment later one could spot a short burst of color glimmering in his eyes, perhaps a play on the flickering lantern light. Regardless, a moment later Oluse's eyes rest evenly on deep dark brown eyes, not in the least Vantha, and he spared a moment to rub at them feeling an odd tightness, a subtle discomfort. After the back of his hands, careful not to get any residue form herbs on his face, were taken away Oluses eyes found themselves on Ronan, studying his wounds carefully, the liquid on them slowly turning from clear to a creamy yellow, the sign the mixture was working, next would be the slight sour odor, something he wished he could avoid. After this second silence, he finally caught back up on the conversation, this answer having taken longer to summon forth from the depths of his sluggish mind. "Denval is a close community, small, and we," he paused a moment as he always did when he referred to himself as Denvali, wondering if that was really accurate. "Well, Denval runs a strict ship. All citizens have freedoms there, but interfering with the freedoms of another is the quickest way to have yourself arrested, or more likely worse. Well, I'm not sure on the exact details of how it all happened." He looked again a moment at Ronan there, in the firelight, shirtless. Was he just being polite or did he really want to hear this? And more importantly, was Oluse ready to speak of it?

There were faint scars all along his body, not just form the storm but from before. He had enough muscle, which clearly showed he was not only of strong stock, as strong as most Denvali, but also was very active. A body that had traveled and rode far, fought hard, and seen harsh climates. One of which was the Northern Reaches. Oluse respected this, and didn't wish to over impress his story upon Ronan, nor disrespect the question. He decided on a middle road. "Mistakes were made, and people were hurt. I had to leave. My family was from Avanthal so I came here. This was last year I left." He gave a short smile, dismissing his own feelings toward the subject. His heart was heavy, just as most had been since the Melt. But, talking about it just seemed to make it worse.

The dismissal of his thoughts of Denval only made way for something else, something just as deep but in a way Oluse couldn't understand. Ronan had said 'Akalak." A word that seemed familiar to Oluse, he had heard it before in classes. A race, one that wasn't human so he naturally disregarded the information as useless at the time. A habit which had not served him well since he began his travels. He thought of the Melt again, that night before, his eyes shut fast as they always were, what he saw, the beads of sweat falling from him just as the beads of water fell from the sides of Morwen's castle. It had stuck with him, through all of the trauma, all of the work since the Melt. It had been there, not always in his mind, but in the pit of his stomach. That feeling of loss... And something about that word, it flared that fear in him, and he wondered why.

"Ronan, you rode here, correct?" He waited a moment in the silence for a response, his mind slipping only a moment to the murmurs of passerby's outside in the mezzanine, feeling he already knew Ronan's answer before he gave it. Once answered he continued quietly as he had been since the conversation grew darker, "You see, I just bought a horse. A Windrunner. Good horse, and I want to learn to ride him. But, well I don't really even know where to start. Do you think perhaps, if you have time around your duties in Avanthal you could give me a lesson. Show me around him a bit?" Oluse wasn't unaware of the inappropriateness of the question. It was unfair of him to make such a request in the middle of a medical procedure. It was unfair to ask such a thing of a client he wasn't even allowing to pay him for his services. Scruples side, however, he was curious about this feeling he had. He was curious about that word, and wanted to know more. Meeting with Ronan later would give Oluse some time to think over his own thoughts and feelings. Something Oluse every much needed.

The tea finally coming to full preparations, Oluse tested the taste, with a slight sip. Still hot, but done enough. He was always impressed with the speed and efficiency of those devices, and really wished to own one himself one day. Pouring it into a thick mug Oluse walked back to Ronan, and handed it over to him, looking with receptive eyes through the wisps of steam which rose between them. He liked the calm in that room, as if he was hiding from his work and that face he always had to put up. He wasn't sure why Ronan made him feel so comfortable, perhaps it was because he reminded him of home. Vantha were entertaining, but not many were as strong at Ronan, not only of body but of spirits. He was not a warrior, but he missed being around warrior. He couldn't deny the thought that he was perhaps merely feeling sentiments over vividly due to his stress, however.

[Ronan]

Denval was a close knit community... perhaps it wasn't so different from Endrykas in some ways. It seemed like they both had an aspect not found in the large cities like Syliras and Zeltiva.

Oluse continued to inspect his wounds, and Ronan merely sat and thought while the healer did his thing. There had been a time when he had wanted to be a healer of sorts. He had begun to learn the Cyphrus herbs, and their properties, and he'd even saved a Kelvic's life using them. However, that was not a path he had continued to follow.

Mistakes. Ronan gave a gentle nod. Everyone made them. Perfection was rarely a reality.

He watched Oluse suddenly close his eyes, sweating, and obviously troubled over something. He was about to ask the man if he was alright, but he opened them, shifting back into normality.

"Yes," Ronan nodded. He thought on the request for a moment, but he was not the Ronan people used to know. He was a changed man. He nodded with his heart. "Of course. That wouldn't be any trouble at all."

In fact, it excited him. Riding, and horsemanship, were very Drykas talents. They were the horse clans of the grasses. Without their steeds... they were nothing. He was more than happy to pass on such a skill.

Oluse walked over to him, passing hot medicinal tea. Ronan gave it a blow, and took a small sip, gazing over the cup at the Denvali man. The request sounded important to him. Why did he want to learn to ride so badly? Was it... was it a desire to leave? If he could ride a horse, he would have freedom of Mizahar. Was that what Oluse wanted to do? Get on his new windrunner, and leave Avanthal for good?