You amble eastwards to the bright and cheerful living caverns.
Ilesyn smells. Evidently, she can smell it herself, because she sniffs, wrinkles her nose, and steps rather quickly towards the hearth, at which spot she pours herself a mug of cider, holding it gingerly between her hands.
Sanriel is practically underfoot, sitting on a blanket before the fire playing with her son. Cedriel is intent upon discovering what the poker is for, and she redirects him quickly before her attention flicks to Ilesyn. She says nothign, but her wide smirk says it all.
"Oh, don't you start, too," complains Ilesyn, catching Sanriel's smirk through the corner of her eyes, as she turns away, mug in hand. A seat is settled into, not far off.
"All right, I won't." Sanriel is suspiciously tractable as she takes the poker away from Cedriel /again/ and sets him in a different direction, after one of his toys. "What do you think? Are you happy?"
"Happy," repeats Ilesyn, somewhat hesitantly. Her gaze is returned to Sanriel, her head tilted to the side as she makes herself comfortable. "What do you think? Am I deliriously happy, cured of any bad temper or nastiness, because of my great, newfound adoration in a rider's life?"
Sanriel chuckles. "That would never happen, Ilesyn. You'd lose all self-respect. And more importnatly, your reputation for unbridled nastiness."
Ilesyn's lips draw into something of a smile around the edges of her mug. "Thank the shards someone thinks that way. So. Am I a different person? Will you still think of me as a Mindhealer, or am I just a dragonrider now?"
"You were, you are, and you will always be Ilseyn." Sanriel responds firmly. "Tell me about this new Healer that's taken your place in the Infirmary... Have you met him?"
"Am I? Or am I now always doomed to be part of a 'we', an 'us'?" Ilesyn's apparently thinking outloud - or trying to get her own questions answered by Sanriel. She's caught short, and adds, "Er, he's got a very peculiar methodology. Never laid a hand upon me. Something I would have prefered to know about, when I gave physicals. I don't like touching people."
Diverted, Cedriel sits down and very seriously chews on his rattle. "You're only stuck as an -us- if you choose to be, Ilesyn. And as long as you have friends, you'll /never/ be lost in the crowd." Sanriel points out before moving to the lighter subject. "I remember that you didn't... How does he do physicals without /touching/?"
Ilesyn opens her mouth to say something, and then shuts it again, rather promptly. Her expression has turned musing; she remains very quiet, fingers clasping tighter about her mug. "He just asks," she adds, eventually, after a long silence. "Doesn't look. I don't think it can be all that effective; as a M-- former Mindhealer," she winces, "I know that people don't always tell the truth, especially if it is a matter of importance to them."
[Sanriel had to go; log ends.]
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 04:57 PM