The Living Cavern is relatively empty of occupants, the dinner rush being over. A few riders sit here and there, residents interspersed between. At the sideboard, the weyrharper stands with a pair of tongs in her hand and an undecided look on her face. Hmm, what to eat.
Ilesyn holds a hand to her mouth, as if attempting to carefully cradle her jaw, shuffling in from the lower caverns, where she's evidently been at work. Wincing as a slight miss-step causes her to bang her hand against her jaw, the Mindhealer hesitates part-way between the hearth and the sideboard, eventually forgoing both on her way to the kitchens. She returns, a few moments later, with a small sack to her face, and a glass of juice in her hand, sitting herself near the fire.
Sanriel finally gives up, and scoops some of whatever she finds onto a plate, which ends up being pancakes and gravy. An odd combination. She heads for a place to sit, snagging a pot of klah along the way, and weaving through the crowd. A misstep sends her jarring into Ilesyn's chair, though thankfully her food stays where it belongs. "Excuse me," she says and deciding that right where she is is far enough, drops into a chair.
Ilesyn's immediate response, made without pause, is to clasp at her jaw again, the bag - which looks to be filled with ice - pushed closer against the skin, which is a hue even more yellow than usual. "Careful!" she complains, with her jaw mostly clasped together, carefully trying to avoid moving it too much. Sanriel is awarded a venomous glare, her gaze slowly turning away.
"Terribly sorry," Sanriel says, though she doesn't sound it. Plate, mug, pot, silverware and self are arranged before giving the Healer a searching look. "Are you all right?" she gestures with a fork to the cradled jaw.
Ilesyn slides her teeth far enough to make something of a "mmph" sound, gaze sharp-- although it's difficult to look threatening with an ice-pack and a great big bruise. She mutters something, most of which isn't particularly audible, thanks to her over-dramatic attempts at keeping her jaw out of motion, but what is clear that it's something to do with a patient, and something disgusting. Or is that disgusted?
Sanriel raises one eyebrow, unilling to bait the bear - so to speak. "Right," she agrees and slices the pancake with her fork, taking a bite. "Well, I hope you feel better. Looks like you'll have a nasty bruise for a day or two!" How cheerful.
Ilesyn rolls her eyes - something that she can do without moving the rest of her face, apparently - snorting. With exagerated effort, she proclaims, "Sounds to me as though you take unhealthy delight in the misfortune of others. You should work through that failing, find it's cause, and get past it." Immediately, she winces, clamping her ice closer to the bruise again. Ow.
"A common failing, it seems." Sanriel replies, still cheerful. Either she's particularly sadistic, or particularly dense tonight. Perhaps both. "How are you, Ilesyn? Aside from the obvious?"
Ilesyn clasps the fingers of her right hand, the hand not being used with the ice, around her glass, attempting to manoeuvre it into place at her lips, without having to move said lips too much. Quietly - far too quiet for her usual tastes - and very calmly, the Mindhealer retorts, "I'm perfectly well, thank you, Harper. Besides your natural, psychological failings, I assume you are the same?"
"Actually, my phsychological failings have been giving me hours of angst-ridden indecision." Sanriel replies, taking another bite. "If that makes you feel any better. And how are /your/ glaring shortcomings, this evening?" She watches the drinking processed with raised eyebrows and a smirk.
Ilesyn knows better than to accept that on face value, and rolls her eyes, between managing to take a sip of her juice without dribbling it down her face and shirt. "Coming along nicely," she replies, calmly. "Dealt with, and slowly becoming less an issue. I /do/ wish you'd accept the fact that you would do far better with counselling." Even those who do accept that sock Ilesyn in the jaw, of course.
"Do you think so, really?" San leans back, relaxing with her mug in her hand. "And yet, somehow I don't think being subjected to incessantly insulting, pointless conversation will do me any good at all."
Ilesyn's bushy eyebrows lift, a steady climb that halts somewhere below her hairline. "Incessantly insulting? Hardly. Perhaps you think that I'm grating, Harper, but I can assure you that I know what I'm doing. Besides," levelly, as she draws her juice close to her lips again, "It's different, when it's a patient. Mostly, I just listen."
Sanriel bites her lip, actually considering the suggestion for a moment. "You really think so? Hmm... It /would/ be nice to have someone to talk things through with." she takes another bite and chews thoughfully.
"That's what I do. I listen, and I help people work things out for themselves," declares Ilesyn quietly, her words still muffled thanks to the ice-pack, and the tightly clenched position of her jaw.
Sanriel says "And here, I thought your goal was to make everyone feel as much like an idiot as humanly possible." San states wryly, softly, giving the woman's jaw another inquisitive look. "What happened?""
Ilesyn's not quite so caring as that, although she agrees with Sanriel's words nonetheless, with a rueful smile. "Well, I'm not perfect, of course... And I can't help it if people don't want to hear what I have to say." When she continues to say it, over and over again, until they're ready to well, sock her. "I--uh, said something that one of my patients didn't like."
Sanriel chuckles, but swallows it quickly. "Mmhmm. A dangerous craft, Healing." she snorts a bit, giving up on holding the laughter. "Did he really punch you for saying something? Shards, it must have been bad!"
"Quite," agrees Ilesyn, teeth clenched. She takes another sip from her juice, which dribbles down her chin a fair way before she catches it with her hand, deftly setting down the glass, and changing directions of her movements in time to catch it before it goes too far. "She. And yes. Sexual frustration, see, but she won't admit to it." Uh-huh.
"Sexual frustration drove her to decking Healers?!" Sanriel is frankly dubious. "I'd think that would cause other, ahh... Reactions."
"You think she'd jump me, instead?" Ilesyn is lazily frank in her response, shrugging her shoulders gamely. "Some people are shy about such maters," is her dry addition to this, lips twitching, "And don't take kindly to people pointing out that they're blushing, which makes something even more likely to be true."
"Either that, or they're embarassed by your, ah... Frankness." Sanriel points out "For you do have a tendency to be rather, honest."
"Nothing wrong with honesty!" declares Ilesyn, with rather more fervour than is probably sensible, in her present condition. "Besides, I'm supposed to be honest. That's my job. To tell people the things that they don't want to admit to, of their own accord."
"Which gets you socked in the jaw." Sanriel points out. "Perhaps there's a more, umm, /solicitous/ way you could put it?" What is this, the mindhealer being counselled?!
Ilesyn's expression is that of the martyr. "I do what I have to. I eat peas, I try throwing darts, and if it's absolutely necessary, I'll consent to being socked in the jaw." She shakes her head, imperious. "You wouldn't understand."
"Of course not," Sanriel demurs "Such sacrifices you make for your profession... Peas and darts." she shakes her head 'If only the rest of us had such ambition!"
Ilesyn rolls her eyes with obvious distaste, huffing into her glass-- easier, after all, than drinking from it. "Mock all you like, Harper," she declares, "We all know that you're so puffed up with yourself that you think you have any idea about the realities of what the rest of us do."
"Am I?" Sanriel quirks that eyebrow again. "Please, excuse me. I didn't realize it. And who is this 'we' that you speak of? Your colleagues, or merely the lesser beings inhabiting the -rest- of the world."
Ilesyn, evidently, knocked her ability at glib retorts out of her head, with that smack she got. She opens her mouth, far too wide for comfort, and then glares at Sanriel. "We, as in everyone. Oh, people may say that they like you, Harper Sanriel, but I assure you, they laugh at you behind their backs. I've been asked, more than once, to do what I can for you."
"And this is the best you can do?" Sanriel retorts quickly.
"It's nothing but the truth." Ilesyn's expression is serious-- oh, she's good at that.
Sanriel looks dubious. "You mean to tell me... That the entire Weyr has petitioned you to have me examined? I highly doubt it."
Ilesyn, calmly, as she dribbles another mouthful of juice down her chin, rolls her eyes. "Not everyone has mentioned it to me, specifically, but it's a common sentiment, believe me. I probably shouldn't have said anything, but... It's for your benefit, after all. I'm sure you don't /want/ to be hated."
Sanriel is silent, giving the mindhealer a look bordering between suspicious and venomous. Hopefully this is a defense mechanism, and not the truth. Surely it is. Apparently Ilesyn can't stand to receive whatshe gives so well. Apparently.
"I could help you," says Ilesyn, leaning forward, honestly fervent-- which is all the more a peculiar image with the growing brown and purple bruise on her chin, the ice pack, and the juice stains. "I'd do my best, anyway."
"Well, what would you have me do?" Sanriel sets aside her plate and leans back, crossing one leg over the other and holding her security blan-err, klah mug.
Ilesyn counters Sanriel's backwards leaning by leaning further forward, her eyes lighting with interest. "I'd have you take a few steps back from yourself," she begins, launching into a spiel with a rapid, carrying voice. "I'd have you think about all the things you do and say in your day, writing down anything that stands out as being a point where you're having an opinion on something you know about, or being otherwise bossy, imperious, or otherwise self-involved. Once you can accept that it's a problem, we can talk about it, work it through."
Sanriel raises an eyebrow. "You expect me tobe contrite for having an opinion? My dear mindhealer, I suggest that you remove the log from your own eye before attempting to take the splinter from mine."
"Not at all," responds Ilesyn, without so much as a pause. "Rather, I expect you to be able to accept that you are alienating people, by having such vocal opinions." Hypocrite.
"I accept that." Sanriel shrugs. "Ask me if I care."
"So you /want/ to alienate people?" Ilesyn's eyebrows raise. "You /want/ people to be turned away by your attitude? This is worse than I was led o believe."
"Of course," Sanriel affirms, her tone laced with sarcasm. "It's rooted in a deep-seated feeling of inadequacy, stemming from my admittedly inferior holdbased upbringing. It is, of course, my unconscious desire to prove that no one does, nor ever will truly love me." And how much of /that/ is truth?
Ilesyn has given up trying to drink - it doesn't quite work with the seriousness of her expression. "You're not taking this seriously." No, really? "I don't like that. I'm doing my best, Harper Sanriel, and you're not taking me seriously."
Arranging her face into a semblance of seriousness, Sanriel says. "No, I'm sorry. I just can't seem to, when everything that comes out of your mouth is some kind of defensive retort. Please, be professional with me, ma'am, and I will do likewise." Sip, sip.
"I tried being professional, and you didn't take me seriously. Understandably, being less so is even less likely to work, but perhaps you'll at least /listen/." Ilesyn is well wrapped up in this: she takes it very seriously, that much is obvious. "I am stating, plainly, that I think you would benefit from the skills I have to offer. That is all."
"That is all." Sanriel repeats. "Yes, I believe you're right. Well, I shall certainly take all you've said into consideration. Meanwhile, please feel free to make this list of yours." The statement sounds like a dismissal, but the Harper makes no move to leave.
Ilesyn, likewise, does not move-- she's taken to arching her head towards the hearth, now that her ice has firmly melted, as if heating her jaw will make it hurt less. "Just as long as you do stop to think, then perhaps my efforts have not been in vain." And hey - at least she hasn't got a black eye out of it, to match her jaw.
Not that the Harper hasn't considered it. Another piece to add to her gallery. "Indubitably," she retreats to her standard phrase and sips the klah, staring moodily into the fire. Companionable silence? Not quite.
"At least it didn't take out any more teeth," muses Ilesyn, quietly enough so that it's likely she's speaking mostly to herself. Just like that, and she's back to being... almost a normal person.
Sanriel glances sharply at the Healer, having caught that, but shrugs and goes back to her klah and her absent timewasting.
Ilesyn is so absent in her own musings, it's notable, that when attempting to take a sip of her juice - the glass being still mostly full - she manages to toss it over her face, instead of getting it anywhere near her lips. Now, /that/ is a quaff for you. Blinking, the healer, with empty glass still in hand, rises from her seat, walking away without a word. Maybe her brain is in her jaw, after all.
You amble southeastwards to the darker inner cavern.
FTW LC>>Sanriel looks up in time to see this, and manages to hold her laugh until the Healer leaves. Barely.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 11:10 AM