treatment woes


Infirmary
Castle Anvard


The infirmary of Anvard is a long, bright room, a little over half the length of the Great Hall. It is shaped oddly, the northeast and southwest walls curving inward to accommodate the towers on either side. A partition that faces the door out to the inner ward bisects the room, separating the front area where the castle healers work from the back.

Three windows on either side of the door in the southeast wall let in a good amount of sunlight, especially in the late morning, and their sills are cluttered with the pots of several frequently used plants. To the left of the door stands a large cabinet, and bundles of herbs in various stages of drying hang from the ceiling. There is a long oak worktable to the right of the door, and a desk in the east corner is piled high with half-completed notes and books and other useful documents.


Lanisen is seated across from Adrian at the desk in the back, watching in morbid fascination as the healer snips a gunky-looking bandage off his arm, revealing an equally-gunky-looking bite-wound beneath.

Colin enters the infirmary quietly. Anyone watching him would find his actions very comical as he trie to be as casual as possible, just-coming-to-say-hi. His face starts to twitch and contort in the fashion of someone who is either having the urge to sneeze or has a serious tickle in the throat and is holding back the cough as long as possible.

Lanisen winces and jerks his arm back involuntarily as the healer apparently bumps an extremely-sore spot, apologizing under his breath.

Colin sucks in his breath and holds it, darn determined to hold his cough or sneeze back.

Adrian glances up from Lanisen’s arm, tells the boy he’ll be back, and stands to speak with Colin instead, greeting the knight with a bow and the usual doctor/healer questions about The Problem.

Colin’s face twitches comically as he gives an amiable nod to Adrian. When faced with the dilemma of speaking, he looks frustrated. FInally he holds a hand up to Adrian and turns away to cough explosively, covering his mouth with his other hand.

The healer’s eyebrows shoot up and he rather dryly hands the knight a handkerchief to cough into instead of his hand. “No improvement, I see?”

Colin draws a deep breath and expells all of it trying to clear his throat. “Dno.” He shrugs apologetically.

Adrian is already compiling herbs for a remedy of some sort. “Congestion, inflamed throat, coughing, stuffy nose, any change since your last visit?”

Colin clears his throat again. “Just worse. Hurts to breath.”

Adrian hmms disapprovingly, adding some sort of greasy gunk to a heap of strong-smelling herbs and mixing them thoroughly. He scoops it into a jar and lids it tightly, then hands it to Colin. “Rub that on your chest before retiring at night,” he orders, his tone no-nonsense, and hands the knight two more packets. “Gargle a warm solution of two spoonfuls per tumbler of water as needed, and ingest four spoonfuls of the second per day. I don’t care how you do it; put it in tea, mix it in your meat, swallow it plain, just get it down.” Both packets promise to contain something exceptionally foul-tasting.

Colin swallows, looking particularly squeamish. A brief flash of little-boyness flashes across his face and it almost looks like he’s going to say something like “Do I /HAVE/ to?”. He refrains and nods, looking miserable and completely defeated..

Adrian, noting this, gives the younger man a somewhat sympathetic look. “The gargling mixture is for the pain, and the ointment is to clear your breathing. If you feel that you can get along without them, you may do so.” He pauses, then adds, “With a measure of honey and lemon, the herbs I gave you will make a palatable tea.”

Colin nods. “Thank you. I’ll give it a try.” He says, sounding somewhat mournful. He coughs.

Adrian bows. “If there is nothing else?” he asks, nodding back to his previous patient, who is watching the goings-on with a rather worried expression — worried, and looking like his own treatment has definitely been put into perspective by the nastiness of Colin’s.

Colin notices Lanisen for the first time. Both eyebrows go up in a sort of ‘heh’ expression. “So you’re here too?”

Lanisen shrugs.

Colin chuckles hoarsely. “What are you in for?”

Lanisen raises his arm slightly, displaying his gruesome war wound. “Bein’ stupid.”

Colin’s eyes go slightly wider. “What in the world have you been up to?”

Lanisen shrugs uncomfortably. “Just one of the dogs. It’s not his fault.” He watches apprehensively as Adrian selects a mysterious-looking jar from one of the shelves and collects materials for a fresh dressing, then turns back toward Colin, standing to bow while the healer is occupied. “How long you been sick now, sir?”

Colin sniffles, trying to get air through his nose. He gives up and takes a breath. “Couple weeks now.”

Lanisen looks further disconcerted at this, watching Colin worriedly. Adrian, returning to his desk, clears his throat politely. Lanisen apologizes and rests his arm on the table between them, trying not to watch as the healer prepares to clean it.

Colin takes one look at Lanisen’s face and nonchalantly hangs around for a little bit for moral support. “How are the hounds?” He asks, trying to distract Lanisen from the task at hand.

Lanisen answers immediately, seeming grateful for the distraction. “They’re fine, sir. Little rambunctious. Mostly want to be out chasin’ things this time of year.” Adrian carefully smears a small amount of ointment onto the infected arm, and Lanisen takes a sharp breath, clenching his teeth.

Colin keeps at it. “Is that so?” He briefly sneezes. “I assume Puck is causing most of the trouble?” He says, looking rather smugly proud at that possibility.

Lanisen manages a shaky laugh, keeping his arm still for Adrian with an effort. “Yessir. Always.”

Colin’s arm jerks up and he sneezes into his elbow. “Ugh. Gud.” He grunts.

Lanisen flinches as the healer hits the worst of the bite-wound, and the opposite hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist. It seems to subside after several seconds, and he relaxes. Adrian re-wraps the arm expertly, the resultant bandage neat and even. “I’ll expect to see you again in two day’s time, Lanisen,” the healer says, knotting the bandage in place.

Colin tries to distract Lanisen as best he can between sneezes. It takes him a second to realize he doesn’t need distraction anymore and he shuts up so Adrian can give the instructions.

Lanisen nods his acceptance of the order, hopping off the stool with a definitely-relieved expression. He rolls his sleeve down over the bandage. “Yes, sir. Thanks.”

“When should I come back in?” Colin asks, half-jokingly.

Adrian eyes the knight rather sternly over the tops of his spectacles. “When you’ve used all the herbs, or when your condition worsens, Sir Colin. I suggest you get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and avoid strenuous exertion until you are well. If you are not cautious, this could develop into pneumonia.”

Colin eyes the things the healer has given him as if trying to decide which fate is worse. “Lovely.”

Lanisen watches the exchange, regarding Colin without speaking. His expression does all the talking for him.

Colin catches Lanisen’s expression and his eyebrow raises. He coughs and nods to Adrian with resignation. “Very well then. Thank you, Adrian.”

Lanisen gives the healer his subdued thanks as well, bowing. Adrian nods to them both and dips a bow to the nobleman.

Colin clears his throat again. “Evening to you both. Take care of that arm, Lanisen, and I’ll catch you later.”

Lanisen bows. “Get better, sir.”

Colin nods in return. “You as well.” He coughs deeply and departs.

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