A Chokingly Bad Choice of Words

Participants:

Cheusia.jpg Fiala.jpg Warin.jpg

Date: 16 Jan 2011
Location: Eastern Weyr: Upper Bowl Center
Synopsis: Warin manages to ruffle Fiala's feathers again… this time dangerously.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Warin

Most of the traffic to and from the Upper Bowl passes through this section of the bowl. There's a path of sorts worn into the otherwise uneven ground, just wide enough to permit the smaller carts and wagons. To the west are the hatching grounds and the infirmary weyr; to the east are the weyrling barracks, feeding pens and lakeshore. Though the walls of this bowl are high and steep, there is always plenty of sky to be seen here. The shadows cross here only in the earliest and latest hours.


It's mid-breakfast time on a warm but drizzly day. Apparently Warin has already has his, or is on a pre-breakfast task, since he's outside rather than inside. At least he's dressed for the weather, so whatever the reason, he was expecting it.

Fiala comes along, carrying a bun with her. She is nibbling slowly at it, making it last as long as possible. She stops, though, to look up at the sky, and she brushes back her hair.

"Good morning," says Warin, in a blandly pleasant voice. He also gives a somewhat perfunctory smile, neither larger nor smaller than he greets anyone with.

The girl turns her head quickly, somewhat startled, then rubs at her neck with a frown. She gives a slight nod, then, seeing who it is. "Good morning," she says, agrees.

Warin strides over toward her, whether going out of his way to do so or just continuing on is a good question. If she's standing still he will continue moving on once he reaches her, while if she's moving he will take a little longer to catch up.

Fiala remains standing where she is, nibbling at her bun, faster now, trying to finish it. She rubs the back of her free hand against her forehead; it is sweaty, and her hair is a bit damp. Her clothes, upon closer examination, bear evidence of having been slept in.

Warin notes, in passing, "You do realize you can also requisition a sleeping shift from the stores. You don't need to wait until you've been notified for every type of clothing; if you start asking for too much, they'll let you know."

Fiala blinks, and she stares at the man, her eyes flickering a little. "I have a sleeping shift, thankyouverymuch," she answers, her words crisp, a little sharp. She looks him up and down, then sighs softly.

Warin pauses, then says, patiently, "Then you should use it for its purpose. The last thing I need is the Headwoman scolding me because you've slept in your clothes."

"You know, you assume an awful lot," answers Fiala. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop. It's rude. You constantly talking to me about my clothes is rude. You scold me without knowing why or anything." She shakes her head, shrugging. then looks away, hunching her shoulders, and shoves the rest of the bun angrily into her mouth.

Warin shrugs. "Doing my job. Headwoman Indira seems to have taken a special interest in you, so I am as well. And Harson was correct in his initial assessment; the clothes you were wearing threw the Weyr in a bad light."

Fiala spins around to answer, swallowing hard. She opens her mouth and then her eyes go wide, and she reaches out to Warin. Still she doesn't say a word, but there is a plea in her eyes.

Warin looks startled and reaches out an arm for her to grab. There is actual concern in his voice as he asks, "Are you alright?"

Fiala grabs hold of his arm, shaking her head. She bends over, then straightens, thumping at her chest. Finally she looks up again, and she gags, then brings her free hand to her throat. Her lips form the word 'help', but no sound comes out, and no breath, either.

Warin's eyes go wide as he realizes what's going on. With a word not often uttered in mixed company, he makes to pat Fiala on the back in hopes of dislodging the roll.

Fiala spreads her legs apart to keep her balance, and she looks up at Warin. Her face is pale, and there is a hint of blue in her lips. She shakes her head, and moves her hand in a patting motion, over-eggagerated, but forceful-looking. Very forceful. Then she doubles over again, clawing at her throat.

Warin looks around wildly for a few seconds, as if willing a Healer to appear, then begins patting as she indicated, if she lets him.

The girl staggers under the blows, but finally a chunk of bread flies from her mouth. Fiala coughs harshly, gagging, then sways dizzily. "Th… th… thank you, she rasps, and then her eyes roll back, and she starts to fall, seeming to faint.

Warin moves more quickly than even he might expect, attempting to catch the teen before she hits the ground.

Fiala sags against Warin, her chest heaving. She coughs again, nodding her head. Then she draws a deeper breath, and her eyes flutter, opening, closing, then opening again. She coughs again, then looks up. "I… am I all right? Now?"

Warin appears shaken, especially compared to his usual bland self. "I'm not sure," he admits. "I should probably get you to the infirmary and have you looked over by a Healer."

"I have… have to get to… back to work," murmurs the girl, looking shaken as well. She tries to straighten, but her knees buckle and her eyes roll back again. "Dizzy," she admits, shaking her head.

Warin begins to compose himself, and shakes his head. Firmly, he says, "You really need to see a Healer first."

"I…" Fiala's voice trails off as she coughs again, and she gives a meek little nod. "All right," sha agrees. "Will you…" She bites at her lip, then sighs. "Will you help me there? I feel a bit odd."

Warin nods. "Certainly." He offers his arm gallantly, as if escorting her to a dance rather than taking her to the infirmary.

The teen nods and leans against him, giving a soft sigh. She looks back the way she was originally heading, then shuffles forwards with Warin, her steps a little unsteady. She offers up a smile, then keeps going, doggedly determined.

[They make their way to the infirmary.]

It's late into the breakfast hour when Warin and Fiala enter the Infirmary, both dripping wet from the warm drizzle outside. Fiala is leaning on Warin, the latter of whom looks around, presumably for available Healers.

Fiala looks pale and tired, and she coughs now and again, leaning against warin, not quite steady on her feet. She looks up and around once they stop, but she doesn't actually pull away from the man.

Morning shifts are normally Che's thing, and as normal, she is going about her normal morning business. So those who arrive are met with a steady gaze, grey eyes focusing a little more keenly on Fiala than Warin. And then, she's approaching once hands are free to assist Fiala to a cot. "What seems to be the trouble?

Warin says quickly, "She began choking on a roll. Now that it's over, she's feeling dizzy."

"Was choking," Fiala agrees, moving over with the healer. There are scratches evident on her throat, from her fingers clawing at it. "I couldn't breathe, and my ears were ringing. Kinda buzzing, too." Her voice is soft and raspy. "One of the buns with that nummy crispy crust. Own. And my back is sore too."

Cheusia nods and guides Fiala to lay on the cot, "lack of air does tend to cause one to feel dizzy. Buzzing is also normal. I'm afraid there really isn't too much we can do other than have you lay down into you no longer feel dizzy… Which is better than saying we'll have to cut you open." Unless you're a work-a-holic.

Warin frowns at the mention of surgery, unable to hide his traditionalist distaste for that branch of Healing. He nods at the rest of her statement, though, as if that's what he was expecting.

"Cut…. me open?" Fiala squeaks, and the squeak ands in a cough. She sits down on the cot, kicking off her sandals. She is about to lie down, and then she freezes. "But… but I'll get more rumpled, and then Warin will tell me how shameful I am and…" She hunches her shoulders, hiccups, then stands up. "I… I'm not dizzy now. Shall I go?"

Cheusia shakes her head. "I was just saying that to make you feel better about the situation. It's really nothing to worry about so all you need to do is rest." Though she's turning a quick look to Warin to narrow her eyes at him and glare for a moment before turning back to Fiala. "You're not going anywhere until you lay down until I say that you are free to go." Arms fold and she resumes the scolding look at the younger girl. "You're not shameful and you need rest."

Warin sighs. He begins to say something, and then changes his mind and instead says, ruefully, "Nothing I can say now will get me out of this, will it?"

Fiala sits back down, though she shakes her head. She hiccups once more, and her breathing comes much faster now, as if she is trying very hard not to cry. "I… I must be! Because he all— always has to say something about my… my clothes. Even if I only sl-slept in them be-because…" She hiccups again, then again. Another cough, and she lies down dizzily. "Because I was bottle-feeding one of the runners. Mother's not giving milk."

"Nope." Comes from Che first, and she quirks him a look. "But you're free to tell your side of the story." Then, she turns back to Fiala and gestures for her to lay down. "No, you shouldn't care what he has to say about your clothes. But if it bugs you so much, you're free to come see me in my room in a sevenday." She shakes her head and sighs. "Don't listen to what he has to say about your clothes after you've been working."

Warin takes a deep breath. "I admire your obligation to doing your duty, but, as the Headwoman said, the Beast Master should not be working you so hard that you have no time to sleep. And when you do get a chance to sleep, it should be in a night shift instead of in your clothes. I never said you were a disgrace, just that it reflects badly upon the Weyr if our people are seen wearing… unfit clothing, like that which you arrived in, or clothes which have been slept in."

"See you in a sevenday? Why?" Curling on the bed, Fiala turns her head towards the two adults. "I *did* have time to sleep. If I hadn't had time to sleep I wouldn't have slept in my clothes, would I? And really? I should bring a night shift to the stables, get up, change, feed the colt, change, sleep for a bit, change… all night? Then I wouldn't get any sle—" SHe breaks off, coughing again, wincing, and then a small bit of bun comes out, wet and goopy. The girl looks mortified and closes her eyes.

Cheusia quirks Warin a wary look before she rolls her eyes. "What business is it of yours if someone doesn't change their clothes? A Weyr isn't a Hold where you need to make impressions all the time. How does it reflect badly upon the Weyr if she's just doing her job. I don't keep extra clothes here and I may get covered in blood, or vomit or who knows what. Just because I don't change right away I am reflecting badly upon the Weyr?" Now she sneers, glaring at the man. "Get out. I don't need you causing more stress to her than needed. I'll be talking with the Headwoman about your idiocy." Grey eyes roll once more before setting back on Fiala. "Don't worry about what he has to say and rest, please. I'll see to it that he won't bug you."

Warin nods grimly and heads out, not looking back at either woman.



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