[Whitevine Healing Center] Cruel to be Kind

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

27th Spring, 512 A.V. The Icewatch who guarded the healing center were used to seeing people in distress, and when one saw the flash of Rak'keli's mark on Denen, no questions were asked. They were ushered into a small operating theater, Sama'el slung between Denen and Oluse, walking as best he could with their help. They had their kits, luckily, but it seemed as though the place had everything they could think to want for whatever they might have to do. Sandar followed behind, wide-eyed. Along the way, Sama'el had explained in Pavi and in Common how he had pulled something back on the road up from Cyphrus when Ronan was lazy and didn't help him hoist up the odilosapux they had killed in order to skin it. They had been holed up in their cave another five days before heading out again, and the rest seemed to have made the ache disperse, but all the riding and hunting and all, it had called back the soreness from time to time and he had never wanted to say anything. He had been biting back the pain of it recently. Since arriving in Avanthal, no amount of rest seemed to make it go away, and now... now he was drenched in sweat and reporting blood in his stool, never a good sign. "I don't understand," he said to Oluse as they helped him onto the table. He didn't dare protest now; the fear was something he could hold at bay, but he needed them to fix whatever it was inside him that was wrong. The stylized sunburst Syna had etched around his eye gave him a surprised appearance now, and he signed to Denen while speaking in Pavi: "I just pulled something..."

[Denen Sunsinger]

There were very few times when Denen wanted to smack Sama'el upside the head. This was one of them. His kit swung at his side as he braced Sam's powerful arm over his shoulder. The story was out now, and he ground his teeth as he shifted the larger boy's weight. For his gangly thinness, Denen was surprisingly strong, but Sam, only half able to walk, was significantly heavier, and even between himself and Oluse, carrying him was no easy feat. He made a mental note to practice carrying deadweight. “You both ought to be whipped like disobedient children,” he signed one-handed. “In what universe is it sane for one man to hoist up an odilosapux? Why the petch did he let you? Gods above! When I get my hands on Ronan Windsong...” His conversation lulled as his hand was then employed in adjusting Sam's weight. The moment it was free, he picked it up again. “Next time you have to lift a stupidly heavy weight, you come to me right after. Better yet, don't go hunting without someone capable of keeping you two from hurling yourselves into every imaginable, avoidable danger. If we have to cut you open to fix this, I'm going to...” But he trailed off again, and behind them, Sandar covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Having grown up in a well-respected healing clan, both she and Denen had been exposed to this sort of thing from infancy. Sam was showing symptoms of a hernia, something she had faith could be restored fairly easily. Once within the room, the chiding, affectionate side of Denen Brokensong made way for the practiced healer. “Settle down here.” The Mark on his arm glowed, and his slender hand rested against Sam's brow. His gaze flickered to Oluse. “I am assuming he has dealt with this sort of thing before?” He gestured to the boy to make it clear about whom he was speaking.

[Oluse]

Oluse had no easier time assisting Sama'el into the clinic than Denen had. His height put him at a horrible angle to be assisting just about anyone. His medical forte lay in the finesse of the table work, not the heavy lifting. It embarrassed him greatly, he could tell strength was of importance to the Drykas. Not one was without their muscle and tan skin, even the girl Sander, and the healer sported more than enough muscle to overpower Oluse. What a pitiful son of Denval he was. Still, he was not without his merits.

Their presence won little attention as they entered with their patient. However, reports of the kit Denen had brought with carried to the current doctor on post, who was more than aware of the rather lax policy of screening every healer to enter the clinic. And so, as Oluse finally eased Sama'el down onto the robust wooden table in the treatment room and then watched clueless as Denen signed in some slightly entertaining way at his friend, a women knocked on the door from behind them all and called Oluse away. It took little time for Oluse to assure the women, who in all technicality he outranked in the clinic, a land in which your rank was determined by only two factors: How much you were paid, and weather you had been graced by Rak'keli. She was unmarked, and Oluse took home vastly more pay than she could hope to reach in her near future. He wondered, however, if she might be trained faster after he left, and his place in the clinic needed filling.

As he stepped back into the room he pulled the door closed behind him, giving the room with no natural light a sudden claustrophobic ambiance. He almost always kept the door open at least a crack, in case violence were to break out. However, he had three compelling reasons to keep the small groups privacy. The first was the general principle. Oluse would need to ask Sama'el more about this condition of his, and possible even have him disrobe. Not a sight for the other patients, as much as he was sure they wouldn't complain. The second was to allow him to focus, he knew very well that he wasn't called because Denen was incompetent. He showed, if nothing else, a great understanding of herbalism, and his mark was nothing to discount. He had never worked with a healer before, but he knew that almost all surgical, or dangerous procedures in the clinic went to those wielding gnosis. No, they were testing him before they got on the road, he was sure of it, deciding weather he could stand up to his talk. Oluse knew he could, but was less certain he could prove this to the Drykas. The last reason was simple really, he had yet to mention his impending trip to his coworkers, and didn't want them to find out by any idle chatter from the Drykas. At least he knew his secret was safe with Denen.

He gave a small smile to Denen as he walked back to the table. "They said it is fine if you accompany us, and are glad you are joining us today. If you are low on supplies feel free to use the clinics." He reached down and pulled out a large drawer full of tinder purchased in bulk, then walked around the room striking a few times to light the oil lamps in the room that had yet to be lit. This granted a surprising amount of light into the simple, yet elegant room. There was a large cabinet which reached from floor to ceiling full of herbs, which allowed from a pungent smell to fill the room. Presumedly no herbs of common allergies were exposed to the air. Beyond that was a giant chest crafted from a heavy wood, inside was packed almost every medical device a person could conceive of. And beside all that were the lights, a desk space for preparing remedies and taking notes, and of course the work table in the centre. Heavy wood legs holding the thick horizontal surface as waist level to the average adult male. Below was a series of small shelves and drawers holding all assortment of common medical supplies and mixtures which were replaced nearly daily by the staff of lesser training or experience. Oluse's job for his first season in Avanthal.

Oluse had worked hard to lift himself above that place in the clinic, so he could really help people. This was now his space, his domain. It pained him to think he would leave it, leave the people who trusted him. They had finally stopped eying him every time he spoke of medicine. Stopped offering additional help, pregnant with skepticism, every time a difficult patient entered. Still they babied him, of course, though this didn't always bother him, the women who regarded him as a younger brother. There was a family in the clinic, a family for him, more so than the Drykas who requested to be his fathers his brothers. Still, he left family, it is what he did. Always, and likely forever. He hoped, genuinely, that this was not to be his fate.

"Ok, can you describe the pain to us, and tell us where the pain is? Has it remained in the same place the whole time, or moved? Also," He looked at Sander with this question, "What is a odilosapux?" He could name every plant in the region without batting an eye, but animals were beyond him. He still wasn't sure what manner of beast he had encountered on his trek to Avanthal.

As he listened to the responses of his new "family," he pulled out two large carafes of water, one was infused with infection fighting herbs, the other was simple water. He was sure he would need these, he seemed to always.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el blinked at Oluse's questions, having tried to explain it all in Pavi and Common along the way, but he wasn't thinking clearly so he thought perhaps he had not been as cogent and succinct as he imagined he was. He shot a glance to Sandar for help, hoping she could translate for her brother and their new recruit, because it was likely he would be unable to do much of that while undergoing what he feared would be painful treatment. He knew they would need to examine him, though, and Drykas were not ashamed of their bodies, so he gingerly lifted himself enough to pull his summer shirt over his head and unlace his trousers, hiking them down enough to get low at his belly, at least. Pointing to the painful spot, there was a faintly visible bump. "It is pain. It used to just be a mild ache, but it kept getting worse and now..." He hissed. "It hasn't moved." But he closed his eyes and let Sandar explain what an odilosapux was. He couldn't even respond to Denen's dressing down; he knew that the healer was correct.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen slid his hand along Sam's belly once it was bared. A touch that might have been sensual and inviting outside the doors of this place became clinical and professional. Sandar, while busy translating all of this, ventured a peek and blushed. Her teeth set in her lower lip and she giggled before looking to Oluse. “It is a very big creature with tough skin. Very heavy. Denen is angry with Sam for lifting it by himself.” She giggled again and shook her head. It was endlessly amusing to see meek, timid Denen scolding their leader. Denen, on the other hand, rested his hand over the swelling in Sama'el's abdomen and sighed. “If h-h-he can just m-man...manipulate it b-back into p-place, we won't...Nnn...h-have to cut you open.” Sandar turned to Oluse. “The organ needs to be pushed back behind the muscle. Can you manage?”

[Oluse]

Oluse listened, missing the subtle blush in candlelight of the girl. He fancied her, but like Denen and all doctors something possessed Oluse when he worked. He became another person, losing what seemed to be a timid nature.

With a contemplated look he watched and listened, then stepped forward, offering his own hand out. Clearly he spoke, so as to avoid any misunderstanding. "I'm going to feel a bit for myself before I answer that. Let me know if it hurts." Oluse then, very lightly at first, pressure three firmly fingers together against Sama'el's abdomen. After a moment the pressure got harder, and slight twinge of pain came. Assume Sama'el spoke freely about this Oluse nodded, not a yes to the question as much as a confirmation to himself.

He agreed with Denen's observation, and was thoroughly impressed with how easily Denen had diagnosed the problem. He wondered if all healers had such grace of medical observation.

He had learned from experience at the clinic to speak out loud while thinking, for the silence could get to patient, making them nervous at times. Free speech did not come naturally to Oluse, but he was glad to be able to speak common without penalty. "It does seem that the strain has displaced something. part of his stomach has slipped between two muscles, and." he paused letting his thoughts organize as his mouth tried to catch up.

"And- I believe that yes, if we can simply work the displaced bits back in then the muscles may strengthen and hold firmly against after several weeks of therapy and resting." A truth, had they not a healer there to expedite the process considerably. Oluse's comment had been far on the safe side of estimation, and with Denen's daily healing touch Sama'el could be better in a matter of minutes.

Oluse, however, was not misinformed about his next conclusion. He looked Sama'el directly in the eye, a sense of authority Oluse had for obvious reasons never displayed to Sama'el before. This was his domain, however. "I'm going to mix up a tea for you to drink. It will help loosen your muscles as well as dull the pain as we massage your body back to where it ought to be. It won't numb all of the pain, but it should help. I will need to ask you not to ride horses or go hunting." He paused remembering the weapons all the Drykas seemed to have, deciding to expand upon his regulations. "Or any equally dangerous activities, for the rest of the day, till the drought wares off."

"Do any of you have questions?" He asked the three as he continues pulling out supplies, another candle for heat, and some thin glass beakers he would use to boil the herbs.

He had no answer for Denen's question, weather he could do it or not, for the question had slipped too far from Oluse's mind. Too focused was he on his patient, and the cure, to think upon what his audience might think. The paranoia of the situation had melted completely from his mind, and he was acting as naturally as he always did within that room. He performed very well under familiar circumstances.

He pondered as he opened the familiar cabinet mindlessly and pulled the herbs out, double checking the contents, what the rehabilitation would be like. Perhaps he could use ice, to induce the body to tense and hold the muscles firmly together, or perhaps a bitter rooted plant. He wanted an herb that might tense his muscles without making him tense but could not thing of one. Specifically one that did not increase the pressure of blood too much. Headaches could be quite uncomfortable in and of themselves.

It wasn't long before the whole apparatus had been constructed, short metal framed holding glass beakers over hot burning candles, wicks cut just right for a toasty flame. The herbs were common enough that a coworker of Oluse had already taken the liberty of crushing a weeks supply of all three, and all Oluse had to do was pour them in right as a simmer met the water. Infusions were an art to Oluse, and he was quite obsessive over his system revolving around the preparations of all sorts. He always simmered, never boiled, and he always constructed and deconstructed the tools in the same order. And as always he could drain the insist on the tea sitting till it was the same temperature it always was when he hands the finished infusion to his patient.

Obsessive, yes, effective, definitely so.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Cut me open!" he almost squeaked. This was not his finest hour, but he managed to bite back his fear, lean back and nod. They needed to be able to examine him properly. Sama'el was becoming a good leader in part because he knew how to follow. When his father had taught him to ride a horse, he had been so young that his father had been like unto a god, his word Sama'el's law. When a master of the Watch sparred with him, taught him how better to fight, within that smaller reality, the master was his master. The same with the web mages who taught him the Drykas mysteries. The same now when he worried his life might be on the line, and the lives of those who followed him, his wife, and his unborn child. He answered Oluse truthfully, wincing at the pain, but biting his lip so as not to cry out in front of Sandar. "Yes, I will rest here all day and all night. I will rest until I am strong enough for us to ride back to Cyphrus." He was compliant, sharp, almond-shaped eyes wide as he tried to imagine his stomach seeping through his muscles. Whatever alchemy of herbs and divine magic was required to fix him, he would do his part. They were the experts and he would respect their skill. "I am glad you will be coming with us, Oluse," he said, fear obvious in him, though he was holding himself together. Perhaps that was, as some said, true courage.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen felt rather useless. Before he could act, Oluse was going about doing just about everything that needed to be done. Seeing that there was little that he would be called upon to do, he simply placed his hand upon Sam and did what he could to keep the pain down. He positioned himself so that he was close within reach, and could keep his hand upon his friend at all times. As Sam had upon finding Denen alive not so very long ago, the young healer tucked his face down near Sam's neck and hummed high in his cheekbones. He wasn't usually so tender in the professional settings, and gods knew Sam deserved being uncomfortable for such an act of stupidity, but he could offer this much comfort while trying to alleviate the pain he was sure the would-be-Ankal was in.