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Do You Hear What I Hear? Attn Any Adult Healer


Laura Walker
 

Scare the hell out of your character. The firelizard moving at the dark at the back of the Weyr, the door that shuts by itself because the volcano is settling, the shadow that looks different at night after three drinks. Engineer a situation and scare them too bad to sleep at night (they can laugh about it later. or not.)

Cremsden didn't do many night shifts any more. K'ren had moved him onto day-shifts following the whole ear issue and there he had mostly stayed, on surprisingly normal-person hours. It helped work around the baby.

Tonight though he'd swapped a shift, a favour to someone who needed an evening free to meet someone. It had seemed like a return to normal at the time but his body wasn't used to it and he found himself uncommonly sleepy trying to work in his office while things were quiet. Yawning he got up and went for a patrol around the patients.

Easy to forget how quiet it was at night as well. The glows were dimmed so that patients could sleep and it wasn't busy tonight anyway. Soft-footed, Cremsden stole up and down the curtained off beds, peeking in to check all was as it should be.

The noise was at first so soft he barely knew he was hearing it. He paused, head on one side for a moment, and started walking again. A few more steps and he paused again, just listening for something on the edge of hearing before padding to the Infirmary door and looking out into the black of the night.

--

Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.


kepheren
 

There was no doubt about it; this was a particularly difficult shift. Dathyn. For most of it he had been tending to a rider who had been badly burned while fighting thread. There were a few in the burn ward but this one was the worst off of the lot. He had been changing their dressing and the ointments being used to treat them for hours now...and needed still more to complete the job.

That was why he found himself now leaving one of the supply closets with a heavy burden. Several rolls of wrapping, jars of ointments and creams stuffed under his arms at odd angles and more than a little pain killer for the lot of them. The healer was totally unaware of the figure he cut, especially in silouette with his normally scarecrow like frame, beak of a nose and disheveled hair. His shadow cast down the hall ahead of him looked like a mishappen horror of some sort.

Add to the image the low grumbling and cursing as he struggled with his unwieldy bundle. From a distance he looked, and sounded, like something no one would want to meet in a dark corridor. And unbeknownst to him he was on an interception course with Cremsden....