Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Blood and death was, by then, perhaps etched too greatly into the kelvic's mind and thoughts.
Altaira had barely a moment to stop and catch her breath, let alone count how many hours it'd been since she'd last slept, and what hour of Leth's rising she was supposed to have been acquitted of her herbalist duties. If she could even be called that even more - with the amount of cuts and sores and lighter injuries that had been given to the woman to deal with out of necessity, she was far closer than a glorified nurse than anything. 'At lease I need not aid in the establishment of aftercare.' She was perhaps too proud of how little further aid she required. She was herself performing two jobs, that of the tending of light injuries itself and the administering of salves, teas and tonics. She did not let her own bitter knowledge of her rudimentary her skill in medicine was damper the pride that kept her going, or acknowledge that they wouldn't let her near a patients wounds had the situations not been so dire.
She rubbed her eyes and rolled her shoulders, a short glance to the healing pricking of her thumb reminding her of her duties to Dira, and she swore to all Gods that all hours not spent in rest or work would be, in their entirety, devoted to her Lady's work. Until then, however, she was to carry her Lady's will and devotion within the infirmary itself. Death was natural, as was life. Altaira herself seemed one of the few who took no issue in clearing the dead from the halls and rooms, or delivering news of one's passing. In her service to the university, she was the cycles. Spreading word and wisdom of Dira's power and her majesty. Of how all go to Dira or their God eventually, and how the end is just another beginning. Of how selfish a nurse is for wishing one whose life would be rendered Hai due to injury had lived to save their own conscience.
"What is your pain, sweetling?" she near hummed, gaze looking up and down the young patient that sat in the corner of the cramped room, cheeks wet with tears as she nursed a limb. She'd been one of those whose injuries had not been so dire to be seen to immediately, Altaira reckoned, and there was almost an air of bitterness about the child. 'Wronged is her emotion, I must wager.' "Speak, speak. There are others in pain and needing tending, and I dare say you wish to rid yourself of this place the moment you entered," the kelvic had already begun to flip through the pages of the tome gaze taking momentary interest in words upon the page, brow furrowing as she attempted to learn something new in the short moment of freedom she was allowed.
Her gaze shortly settled on some evergreen that had been given the name of 'Jile,' her own interests peaked as she took note of its use and appearance - had she before learnt of a herb that worked against poison? Her mind flurried and wondered, and before she could rouse the name of a substance that acted in
such a manner - should she know of one at all - the girl in the corner piped up. "Just... everywhere. Pain is everywhere." Altaira regarded her keenly for a moment, before the tome before her was shut with a hefty thud, and she sought a herb of use with the name of the one she'd just learned chiming through her mid, for fear she may forget such a useful little thing.
'Jile. Jile. Jile- where is the tolm?- Evergreen. Was it a tree or shrub? Both. I think both. And it was the berries, no?- Yes, berries. A good hand full- Oh, here's the tolm. Not much left. Right, berries, shrub, tree, Jile, good against poison.'
Altaira hesitated as she took several pieces of the herb from its small container, and sought the boiling pot that she kept close on hand, before then flurrying about as mug and spoon were collected. She'd not the faintest idea how much longer the girl would be in limbo in her room, and with how short the staff were, if she was collected before the tea was drunk, then it was quite simply a waste of time and effort.
It took more care than it should have for the kelvic to pour the pot and wait the due time, and too much effort to then take the tea to the patient and ensure that it was cool enough to drink. "I will need to rush you, I am afraid." she hummed, then standing and returning to her desk, wiping the spoon and tidying her desk, once more drawing out the tome of herbs and tonics that the herbalist were so lucky to have access to, mindless wondering the pages as she banished thoughts of sleep. "I've not a clue when you will be taken from this very little room."
Just as the words slipped from her tongue, a nurse of some familiarity came and gave a short look and nod at the girl, before a shortly doctor joined her, and a bitter sigh rolled from Altaira's lungs. The look that passed between the girl and the kelvic would have been quite dear had the time not been so improper, each of them looking to one another as though they were a child caught in the act of wronging the mother. A smile then graced the Avanthalian's lips, hand moving her gut as she choked the laughter that threatened to bubble, as she watched with renewed vigour as the girl tensed and sculled the liquid. The patient, then, with reddened cheeks and a poorly concealed smirk of her own, was ushered from her position and directed from the hall (the nurse and doctor, it seemed, were in no shape or form amused by such antics), soon disappearing into the bustling halls, and Altaira soon found herself absently following after, stupid grin taking but a few small ticks to fall.
Busy. She needed to look busy. For a breath, for a moment, she needed the world to stop its fuss and calm down.
In another few ticks, she stood absently in the waiting room, gaze climbing the walls as though she'd been taken by one of the token pieces of artwork. Strange indeed, how the Infirmary had managed to look so - together when they scrambles for workers and supplies, and the city itself was on the brink of falling to chaos.
She was shortly torn from her deep wondering, desperate in hopes that Mistress Claira was too busy to take note of her brief absence, with quiet words slicing through her short reverie. A woman, of slightly greater height and peculiar appearance, her hair a blonde and eyes a blue she'd not often seen. It took several moments for the kelvic to properly grasp the words of the woman, her mind jarring into thought and lips lagging behind.
Apologies. Help. Skills. A name. Anais.
"Right," was the first word to slip from her tongue, a light breath rolling from her lips as her gaze sought the harried woman bustling through her reception work. Hardly surprising that with so many patients, the paper trail following admissions and procedures and staff working hours was an utter nightmare. "I'm sure something will be found, Anais, all helping hands are welcome," she gave a short smile and nod, a short inner scolding of how she quite nearly forgot her manners. Her mother would turn in her grave if she knew.
"My name is Altaira, come, we'll get you registered yes?" She gave the kindest look she could manage in her stress and tiredness, moving promptly towards the poor receptionist with an apologetic look, one that deepened further when she caught the woman's eye and added a sorry nod. "We've another volunteer," she said, her words soft and hushed, ensuring not to anger the brittle woman. "Her name is Anais, and she claims to have no relevant skills." Altaira had registered volunteers before, she knew what information was needed and in what order it should be given. It was a small effort to ask the questions needed, but it was an effort the kelvic could easily spare the woman.
"Thank you," she sighed, another file filled and signed, before a slight hesitation. "Are you right to have her?" the question left her a little ways between shocked and horrified. Sure, she'd ferried man and woman from door to desk to staff, but the question of herself motoring a volunteer had not once arisen. "Of course." She gave a look to the woman, before wetting her lips and making an attempt at a joke. "So long as she will have me."
