Recovery [[Open]]

[Tirael]

[[The following thread is set a couple days after What You Leave Behind.]]

The infirmary keeper breathed a sigh of relief. The past few days had been unimaginably difficult to get through; never had he been inundated with so many patients. Of course, he was glad; most of the slaves were free, including his own beloved sister and several others. He wasn't so glad that many fighters and slaves had been injured to the point where his help was necessary- he had spent days setting up secondary sickbays, dashing from patient to patient, and trying to keep track of everything at once. It didn't help that his arm was still in a sling, either. Not only did it make it twice as hard for him to work, but it wasn't a good morale booster for his patients, who probably expected treatment by a more...intact doctor. Nonetheless, he and his several volunteers had done well, and the infirmary was finally quiet again. The few long-term patients were sleeping or relaxing, and he could begin to return his workplace to a less disheveled state.

Kneeling, he picked up a jar that had fallen off a work table. Trying to get up without use of his paws, he overbalanced and slammed his left shoulder into the table, sending a searing jolt through the wound on his left arm. Snapping his head around as he heard two...no, three jars shatter on the floor, he sighed irritably and stared at his useless left arm. Setting down the jar, he grabbed the table with his right paw and pulled himself up. Glancing forlornly at the mess, he went to grab a broom.

[Brooke]

Brookesong saw Tirael lean over and knock 3 jars to the floor. Shaking her head and grabbing a broom, she said: "Tirael, go sit down and rest... I'll get this cleaned up." She sighed an started sweeping the shards up. "I know, you could go make sure that River's not harassing the kitchen staff too much, I can take care of the last patients in here. Besides you need a break."

[Tirael]

Tirael was a few feet away from the closet when his mind chastised him. Idiot, how do you expect to use a broom with one paw? He stopped and began to contemplate that question when Brookesong walked into the infirmary and grabbed a broom herself.

"Tirael, go sit down and rest... I'll get this cleaned up."

Giving her a rueful grin, he said, "Thanks, Brooke. I feel fine, actually, I just, umm...you know, my stupid arm." He had been told at least a dozen times now to sit down and rest: Fern, Tampa, Skipper, Brookesong, Violet...the list goes on. He dismissed all these with reassurances that he felt fine and had work to do, anyways. He suspected that their view of him as the kind, innocent healer meant he couldn't take a wound. Well, he would prove them wrong on that count.

"I know, you could go make sure that River's not harassing the kitchen staff too much, I can take care of the last patients in here. Besides you need a break."

Glancing over the few patients left, he said uncertainly, "Are you sure?" At her nod, he said, "Alright then. And thanks again, Brooke. I don't know how to thank you." Smiling at her, he turned and left the infirmary, wandering the halls toward the kitchens. As he got closer, he heard clattering, yells, pawsteps...

Coming to the doorway, he saw it was a commotion equal to what he had seen in the infirmary over the past few days. Apparently, while injured creatures got better, they never seemed able to go without food. What with the arrival of dozens of freed slaves, the demand for that particular commodity had exploded, and the kitchens were being worked harder than ever. Ducking a large platter and narrowly avoiding a running-down by a fully laden cart, he cast about for River. He may not have any more lives to save for now, but he could save several cooks and kitchen helpers from being pestered to death by a ravenous eating machine.

[Brooke]

Brookesong sat on a bed wrapping bandages. She let her thoughts wander to her brother... He had only been at camp for a few days and yet he was already harassing the kitchen staff with his near constant need for food. Chuckling to herself she remembered how shocked the staff had been at first.

---

River snatched a hot scone from the cooling racks, juggling it in his paws, he started looking around some honey to spread on it. He noticed Tirael walk in... Right away River knew that he had been sent by Brookesong.

"Uh oh.." he murmured under his breath and tried to duck behind a passing mouse maid. Then he sat down on the ground behind a kitchen counter pressing a paw to his lips he started to crawl towards the exit hoping to not be noticed by Tirael...

[Tirael]

It was hard to see in the kitchens. Smoke, steam, passing workers, food going everywhere...it was like trying to navigate a lawn without stepping on grass. Except here, the grass was moving and often not much smaller than you, if not larger. However, River was excellent at hiding poorly; the mousemaid he chose as cover must have been two-thirds his height, and half the width. Trying not to laugh as he saw her confused and irritated expression at River, he began heading in that direction. However, to his disbelief, the otter actually managed to disappear.

Not quite sure that such a thing was possible, he looked around the area, making sure to stabilize himself by grabbing things with his right paw; if he fell here, he was sure to be trampled. How in the world he had lost a big doofus like River he couldn't figure out, but he shouldn't be hard to find a-

Tripping over something, Tirael went down hard. Twisting himself to avoid banging his left side again, he only succeeded in hurting his right side and rolling onto his back. At least it hurt less, though his left arm still jolted uncomfortably. Managing to get into a sitting position, he saw what had tripped him: River's rudder. Peering behind the counter, he said through clenched teeth, "River?"

[Brooke]

Suddenly there was a large thump right behind him....
"River?"[/i] gritted out Tirael. River blanched, but being the good beast he is, turned around and stood up. Bending down and hauling Tirael to his feet. He said "Sorry 'bout that matey!" Then he promptly ran towards the exit but not before nicking a tray of strawberry and cream cakes. Cackling like a naughty dibbun he ran out to the main dining area and started munching on the cakes.

[Tirael]

"Sorry 'bout that matey!"

"Hmph," Tirael said, frowning and raising an eyebrow as River got up and helped him up too. He was glad he didn't have to ask; he would have had trouble getting up alone. Dusting himself off, he said, "What were you doin-" He cut off in alarm as River snatched a tray and began weaving his way rapidly toward the main dining hall, leaving behind a trail of destruction and angry kitchen workers. Fortunately, that trail was relatively open, allowing Tirael to pursue without much trouble. Coming out into the main hall, he looked around for his quarry. Seeing him at a ledge at the far end of the room, he sighed. Apparently, the chase was over, canceled on account of cake.

Sitting down, the younger otter leaned against the wall, saying, "As fun as trying to keep your thieving in check is, I think those were suppose to be for everybeast." Snatching the tray and what remained on it, he set it on his side of the ledge, out of River's immediate reach. "Besides, you'll have plenty to eat in a while, no need to cause so much havoc." He didn't feel odd at all lecturing someone older than him; his maturity level often gave him that right, however odd it seemed.

[Brooke]

"As fun as trying to keep your thieving in check is, I think those were suppose to be for everybeast." Snatching the tray and what remained on it, he set it on his side of the ledge, out of River's immediate reach. "Besides, you'll have plenty to eat in a while, no need to cause so much havoc."

River pouted comically as his treats were moved out of his reach. "Did you have to listen to me sister mate... I mean you're starving a poor beast! Do you not have any sympathy?" River complained. Then he tried to reach around the younger otter, but the ledge was a mite slippery and River slid off and landed with an "Oof" on his bottom. He looked up at the ledge in shock.

[Tirael]

"Did you have to listen to me sister mate... I mean you're starving a poor beast! Do you not have any sympathy?"

Tirael burst into laughter as River made a rather awkward and graceless fall onto the floor. Moving the cakes slightly farther from the thief, he moved to block them with his body. "No," he said, "I don't have any sympathy. I'm cold and heartless, and definitely not poor. Or starving for that matter." Laughing again at his friend's expression, he said, "Come on, we're bringing these back to the kitchens." Getting up, he helped River up and grabbed the tray. Setting off for the kitchens, he added, "Where you will touch nothing and bother nobeast. Got it?"

[Brooke]

"Where you will touch nothing and bother nobeast. Got it?" asked Tirael as he lead River off to the kitchens to put back the tray. River decided not to answer and as they re-entered the kitchen, he immediately took a scone and started munching quietly away on it. Suddenly he was whacked on the head causing him to choke on the scone

---

Brooke had run to the kitchen to grab some soup and water when she saw River walk in behind Tirael. Putting down the tray she had been carrying she ran over to them and whacked River on the head. He started choking, but she just rolled her eyes and picked up her tray.

[Tirael]

Tirael carried the tray into the kitchen, setting it down on a counter. "I managed to get most of it back, but this one- River!" he snapped. "Did you not hear me thirty seconds ago!?" Not noticing the snickers of the onlookers, he gave a start as a tray smacked River on the head. Turning, he saw who was holding it: Brooke. Beating on River's back to stop the choking, he commented, "Great timing, Brooke, though I don't think he's gonna learn a lesson anytime soon." As River's coughs subsided somewhat, he said, "Better?"

[Brooke]

"Better?" asked Tirael.

"Erm no, I just got beat on the head by my younger sister!" then he proceeded to stalk out of the kitchens to find someone who would be more sympathetic to his predicament...

---

Brooke laughed at the childish actions of her older brother. When she was sure he was out of the kitchen and out of causing trouble, she turned to the otter next to her. "D'ya mind comin' up to the Infirmary, a pore young squirrel's cut if quite swollen and I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so will you be the evil one and bind it for me?" she asked cheekily.

[Tirael]

Erm no, I just got beat on the head by my younger sister!"

Smirking, Tirael said simply, "Yes, I can see that." Watching briefly as he walked out, the infirmary keeper muttered something rueful about oversized Dibbuns.

"D'ya mind comin' up to the Infirmary, a pore young squirrel's cut if quite swollen and I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so will you be the evil one and bind it for me?"

Tirael pointed to the sling on his arm. "Umm, sorry Brooke, but I think I'd need two paws to tie off a bandage. I can make the compress and talk to him if y' like, but you'll have to bind it up yourself." Cocking his head slightly, he added, "Not that you can't; you're at least a good enough doctor to do that." He knew she just didn't like to have to treat a young one, and he felt sympathetic, but it wasn't as though he could do anything about it. Besides, she was fully capable, and if something like this happened in the field someday...well, she needed to be fully prepared. Hesitation could cost lives.

[Brooke]

Brooke sighed, until Tirael was back to be healer it was up to her to be the bad guy. "Oh, so now the injury matters! You were trying to let me let you heal earlier and now its I can't... my arm!" she said half joking half accusing. "Ah well, you'll just have to be my assistant or you'll be stuck dibbun minding with Vi." she said in an annoying sing-song voice. Then grabbing a handful of candied chesnuts she set off skipping towards the infirmary.

[[gah, short!]]

[Tirael]

"Oh, so now the injury matters! You were trying to let me let you heal earlier and now its I can't... my arm!"

Tirael was more than a little shocked by the onslaught. He wasn't shirking; he would have gladly done the job himself if he could have. Besides, when had he been begging her to let him keep working? He had welcomed a break! He grew more than a little suspicious that she was joking, but being Tirael, he wasn't sure.

"Ah well, you'll just have to be my assistant or you'll be stuck dibbun minding with Vi."

The thought of having to deal with a crowd of hyperactive, joyful little Dibbuns was enough to set Tirael racing after Brookesong. "What? You're not leaving me with those little terrors!" Dibbuns were great, and he adored them, but the thought of being mobbed by them didn't exactly appeal to him. Coming into the infirmary mere seconds after Brookesong, he saw the squirrel. Coming up, he said, "Hi. Brooke said you're hurt?" Nodding, the squirrel produced his paw. Poor thing, what a nasty cut... Offering his young patient a smile, he said, "Don't worry, we'll have it fixed up in no time." Moving over to the cabinet, he began to gather various ingredients to make a compress. "Brooke, could you clean up the cut? I'll start with this."