01.Dec.19, 08:58 AM
Stupid. He was so stupid.
He knew better than to rush, knowing it would either lead to a mistake or an injury but he didn’t listen to reason, wanting to get through the task as quick as possible so he wouldn’t fall behind. So naturally that meant his luck lately continued to be bad and he not only ruined what he was making but ended up injured. How did he manage to score big on both outcomes of foolishly rushing?
Embarrassment and a touch of fear of what people would think left Quinvalis panicking as he thought about what would happen if R’nya and Rhaedalyn learned of his injuries if nothing else. R’nya trusted him with important tasks and even bounced ideas off of him—that would change if he learned the young man couldn’t handle multitasking anymore.
It really was his fault, though. His killer headache was back and left his mind wandering while oiling the riding straps Aradissicath wouldn’t need yet for a couple more months but Quinvalis appreciated the Weyrleadership letting him help out and practice such skills on their own gear. He’d lost track of the time until he smelled something burning and remembered the biscuits he said he’d make up for the rations for those going to Benden Weyr to continue cleaning.
Somewhere between pulling the tray from the fire and the counter, he had tripped and landed face down on the ground with a burned forearm and a throbbing ankle. He didn’t think the ankle was too badly off since he could put enough pressure on it to keep his balance as he hobbled down the halls but it was the same one that broke –or was it sprained? He still wasn’t sure what the difference was, just knew that it had hurt either way—at Bedith’s first Hatching last year which freaked him out. As for the burn, he held a damp rag to it, unsure of what else would help. Maybe some numbweed? He wasn’t a Healer, but he did know L’gan was one and he felt like the greenrider wouldn’t go running to R’nya about the injuries right away either.
As he knocked, Quinvalis started to worry that he was going to be asking a lot of the man and that perhaps he should have gone to the Healers’ office anyway but he was committed now and wouldn’t be able to limp away fast enough even if he wanted to. Still, maybe he should have sent word ahead asking if L’gan could see him so he wouldn’t be imposing too much.
Again, that point was moot, especially as the door opened and a woman appeared before him. Quinvalis quickly glanced at the nameplate to make sure he had the right weyr and noted that he did. Oh damn, he really was interrupting something! “I… um… I’m sorry. I… was looking for greenrider err Healer? Um, L’gan. But I can come back later or uh, not at all. Okay, bye.” He turned, face bright red from embarrassment because not only had he intruded on a likely private moment, the woman of course had to be pretty and his ability to speak had gone from fifty percent to maybe ten. He was just happy he hadn’t grunted and flailed as a form of communication. He wouldn’t put it past himself!
He knew better than to rush, knowing it would either lead to a mistake or an injury but he didn’t listen to reason, wanting to get through the task as quick as possible so he wouldn’t fall behind. So naturally that meant his luck lately continued to be bad and he not only ruined what he was making but ended up injured. How did he manage to score big on both outcomes of foolishly rushing?
Embarrassment and a touch of fear of what people would think left Quinvalis panicking as he thought about what would happen if R’nya and Rhaedalyn learned of his injuries if nothing else. R’nya trusted him with important tasks and even bounced ideas off of him—that would change if he learned the young man couldn’t handle multitasking anymore.
It really was his fault, though. His killer headache was back and left his mind wandering while oiling the riding straps Aradissicath wouldn’t need yet for a couple more months but Quinvalis appreciated the Weyrleadership letting him help out and practice such skills on their own gear. He’d lost track of the time until he smelled something burning and remembered the biscuits he said he’d make up for the rations for those going to Benden Weyr to continue cleaning.
Somewhere between pulling the tray from the fire and the counter, he had tripped and landed face down on the ground with a burned forearm and a throbbing ankle. He didn’t think the ankle was too badly off since he could put enough pressure on it to keep his balance as he hobbled down the halls but it was the same one that broke –or was it sprained? He still wasn’t sure what the difference was, just knew that it had hurt either way—at Bedith’s first Hatching last year which freaked him out. As for the burn, he held a damp rag to it, unsure of what else would help. Maybe some numbweed? He wasn’t a Healer, but he did know L’gan was one and he felt like the greenrider wouldn’t go running to R’nya about the injuries right away either.
As he knocked, Quinvalis started to worry that he was going to be asking a lot of the man and that perhaps he should have gone to the Healers’ office anyway but he was committed now and wouldn’t be able to limp away fast enough even if he wanted to. Still, maybe he should have sent word ahead asking if L’gan could see him so he wouldn’t be imposing too much.
Again, that point was moot, especially as the door opened and a woman appeared before him. Quinvalis quickly glanced at the nameplate to make sure he had the right weyr and noted that he did. Oh damn, he really was interrupting something! “I… um… I’m sorry. I… was looking for greenrider err Healer? Um, L’gan. But I can come back later or uh, not at all. Okay, bye.” He turned, face bright red from embarrassment because not only had he intruded on a likely private moment, the woman of course had to be pretty and his ability to speak had gone from fifty percent to maybe ten. He was just happy he hadn’t grunted and flailed as a form of communication. He wouldn’t put it past himself!