| A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste |
| Summary: | Senna comes to check up on the Sers Anders and Aleister, while Ser Aron offers to bring word to Aleister's wife. |
| Date: | 29-Jan-2012 |
| Related Logs: | The Iron Eagle III & This Sleep Is Sound Indeed |
| Players: |
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| Charton Pavilion |
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| It's a Pavilion. With beds. |
| 29-Jan-289 |
Night has fallen in the area designated for the Charlton's contingent. There's more noise out tonight than the other night, and the fires are lit through the city as the stumbling from fire to fire begins for the night's revelry. Within the house specifically set aside for the nobles, there isn't a great deal of merry-making within. There's a fire lit in the corner, irons in the fire, and a cast iron pot filled with water.
Anders is lying on his back, the 'backboard' still in place. His bandages are from the night before, and they're not looking too bad; minor seepage. There's no patches of bright red peeking through. His eyes are open, and there's a water skin in hand.. and he's working with that gross motor skills, trying to give himself water rather than ask for aid from people who may or may not be there.
"Aleister," whether the man is awake or not, aware or not, Anders has taken to talking to him, "I think that once all this is done, a trip to somewhere that hasn't been ravaged really should be taken. For the life of me, I can't think of where I'd like to see."
*
The lords are probably not expecting visitors. It's usually not polite to visit lords when they're indisposed to the point of not really moving. But then, Senna isn't exactly visiting. There's a quiet knock against the door before she steps in, satchel over her shoulder. "I hear the Reach is lovely in summer, my lord," she offers as suggestion. Still as he is, he probably can't see quite how exhausted she looks just yet. It's been a very long night for the healer, with so many nasty injuries.
*
Aleister is still laying on that mat that he'd been deposited on after being hauled from the field at the Waterfront. While the wound to his chest and leg were nothing serious, the wound on his head was apparently quite bad, for the man had not yet awoken. Even as people had come and gone during the last day, some of whom had stopped to speak with him, much like Anders does now, the Lord hadn't stirred a muscle. His breathing is shallow, just a slight rise and lowering of his chest to signify that he's still alive.
After Senna makes her entrance and 'answers' Anders, there's a fleeting sound that escapes past Aleister's lips. Something akin to a groaning hiss. A stirring of muscles follows the sound, a twitch of fingertips, then a shoulder and after a moment, his eyes begin to open.
*
Anders is lying down, prone on his back, the neck brace making it difficult to move without aid. He's sat up before, last night.. but lost his balance due to weakness. He hasn't been eating much, but his apetite is beginning to come back. The knock on the door and the entrance of Mistress Senna gains his attention, though he can't really see her from his position. Instead, he raises a hand in acknowledgment, "The Reach?" Beat. "Hear that Aleister? What do you think about the Reach?"
Again, Anders has absolutely no expectations that his friend will respond, and when the Charlton lord begins to stir, Anders stiffens, immediately silencing before, "Mistress…" and again, "Aleister.. Al.. wake up.."
*
Aron ducks into the tent, his gaze sparkling with good humor despite a massive bruise on his left temple - and that his visible wound. He is wearing black silk and leather riding braies, with his silver-pommeled sword at his hip. Drawing to a slow halt, he composes his features into something more serious, as befits a sick-room. "Has he awoken?" Aron gestures toward Aleister, not quite spotting the movements yet, his eyes still adjusting to the dimmer light. Anders answers his question, and the Haigh knight quickly draws near, jerking a hand toward Senna. "Mistress, he's moving!"
*
"I think that's a yes," Senna answers on Aleister's behalf, holding out a hand out where Anders can see it just long enough to deliver her own order. "Hold still, Lord Flint, I'll see to him." Aron gets the slightest dry look as she kneels next to the lord, placing a firm hand at his shoulder to keep him from starting. "Lord Charlton," she says in a low, reassuring tone. "You're all right. You're in your tent. You've got a bit of a head wound, it looks like, so I'd appreciate it if you held still, all right?" Even as she speaks, she uses her free hand to lift his eyelids, checking his pupils.
*
Eyelids flutter open and then closed, repeating the movement a couple of times before falling closed once more. The steady breathing resumes and if Aleister is at all aware of the others in the room, he certainly doesn't .. or can't .. acknowledge them. For the moment, it seems as if that sleep is coming to claim him again and it's only when Senna moves to his side and lifts his eyelids, that he actually stirs again. His pupils don't quite dilate properly, but his eyes do slowly shift over in her direction, trying to focus as his lips part to offer a hoarse sounding, "How?"
*
That would be a 'yes'. Anders can't actually nod his head, or shake it, for that matter, but there is the answer right there. Anders makes an attempt to roll to his side; the first time attempting it, and with his teeth gritted, makes it to the side. "Stay put, Aleister.. you're okay. Mistress Senna is here for you, and Lady Corrie's seen to you when you came in." Just so he knows that he's not been ignored. Falling silent, however, he looks for Aron again, Lord Ser Haigh.. "Just now.."
*
Aron - the newcomer to the room, and to the group of friends - falls silent. He moves to take a knee by Aleister's bed, his features a perfectly-genuine expression of concern. Wincing as he kneels, his hand coming to press against his side, the young Haigh knight stifles any sound that might emerge and simply watches Aleister. He smiles briefly toward Anders to acknowledge the other man's words, before addressing Aleister. "Lord Aleister?.. It's Aron Haigh. I wanted you to know, I intend to ride for Terrick's Roost immediately. To tell your wife that you yet live. Please.. Is there something you wish me to say to her, when I arrive?"
*
"If I had to guess, I'd say there was an axe involved," Senna answers Aleister, a note of dry humor in her voice. "A mace would have left more holes. You're lucky you're not a few inches shorter, Lord Charlton." She moves a finger across his eyes, watching the tracking carefully. "As for how it happened, I'd imagine there was a slight lack of ducking involved. Lord Flint," she adds without looking up, "If I turn around and see you not on your back, I will tell your wife you've been moving around and aggravating your wound and /you/ can listen to her sob." It's not so much a threat as a statement of fact, really.
*
"An axe?" is the soft reply that Aleister offers in response to the mention of an axe and when Senna's finger tracks before him, he's following it with a slow, stuttering movement of his eyes. Might be that the man doesn't quite remember the blow that just about felled him, but that could be considered a good thing. With a slight lick of his lips, he's offering, "Water." Then, a wincing breath and he's following with. "Northerner … what?" Pause. "Haigh?" Pause. "I'm fine." Jumbled words try to address and process what's said to him.
*
Anders exhales in an audible sigh before he grunts, and it takes him a couple long moments before he's back in position on his back. He sighs once again, just to be sure his feelings on the matter are well noted, and raises his arms to cross before him. He can do that now! "I think 'injured' isn't the way to go when informing ladies as to how their Lords fare," he offers helpfully. "Tell her.. 'we're victorious, and soon, we will be riding back to the Roost. I look forward to our reunion.'"
*
Considering the two men's input, Aron's gaze flickers between them thoughtfully. After a moment - and not without a snort of amusement at Senna's handling of Anders - Aron grins slowly toward the northern lord. "I'll tell her precisely that, my Lord, and with a few additions as well." He gives the Flint man a respectful nod before looking down at Aleister. A brief, slow, shake of his head down at the Charlton. "Tsk. Taggett says to tell you, Lord Aleister, that he's beaten your man twice in a row drinking. Had you not gotten reckless, I would've shown you myself." His tone is gentle, despite the rebuke, and the man rises to his feet slowly, with another wince. Whatever injury lurks beneath his tunic, he makes no mention of it. "I must ride, if I'm to make any distance before dark. Lord Flint, Lord Aleister.. do -please- heal quickly, else the tourney lists shall be the emptier for it."
*
Senna doesn't seem to note the sigh from Anders - or at least she knows better than to act like she did. Instead, she takes a cup from her satchel, adding water and a measure of honey to it and stirring it with a reed from a small wooden tube. "Sip slowly," she tells Aleister, setting the reed between his lips. "Just a little bit until we know you're not going to be sick."
*
As people continue to speak of victory and the like, there's a fleeting moment of confusion that hints behind the brown hue of his eyes, but it's blinked away as Aleister tries to give a slight shake of his head. Any response to Aron is forgone, for when the reed comes to be placed between his lips, he's taking a small sip before releasing it. That seems to have hit the spot, for a sigh escapes his lips as a hand lifts upwards to try and touch the bandage that covers most of his head, "By the gods, it hurts." Then, as if remembering manners of sorts, he offers to Senna, "Thank you." That's when he stops and blinks, trying to roll his head to the side, though that movement is quickly stopped as a wincing gasp preludes, "Northerner .. what are you doing in my tent?" At least words are coming a little easier now.
*
"Swift ride, Ser Aron," Anders replies, his voice stronger than it's been in days. "Gods guard your steps." Even now, as a knight, he won't invoke the Seven.
As the Haigh knight departs, the Flint's Young Lord returns his attention to the pair, annoyed that he can't actually see much beyond his peripheral vision. "Take some drink.." is given in encouragement. Thank the gods.. "And.." Anders pauses in the question, and he can't ask Senna without words because he just doesn't have the eye contact. "I was struck by a poorly aimed axe.. as far as I'm concerned. The Lord Volmark believed it to be well aimed, and it near took off my head. You came in and kept him from killing me, and giving my troops an opportunity to fall back when you went into single combat." What happened this time, however, he hasn't heard. "If it were my guess, you tried that again, and didn't do quite as well.."
*
"Don't touch," Senna cautions Aleister, reaching for his hand when he reaches for the bandage. "That's just going to make it hurt worse." She watches the Charlton lord closely, though she's looking a little weary herself. "Damned axes," she murmurs. "I've about had my fill of them and the mess they leave behind. And the same goes for the maces."
*
The injured always want to seem to touch their wounds and Aleister is no different. Unfortunately, or fortunately, for him, Senna halts his movement when she reaches for his hand. "Right," is the murmered response, followed by, "How bad?" Now, his eyes shift to the side, a tad slowly then normal, as they try to find and focus upon Anders when the other Lord speaks. "Can't remember," is offered with a very slight furrow of his brows, eyes closing almost immediately after as if trying to unjumble the thoughts that reside in that addled head of his. They stay closed for only a second before opening and finding Senna again, "How bad?"
*
"Then don't think about it, Aleister.. just lie there and rest. Nothing I haven't been told." Anders chuckles and reaches to touch the bandages still on his throat, "And sometimes they're correct." Anders is looking up at the ceiling again, and he's getting annoyed.. and will roll back to his side— after Senna departs. "I can find people who can fill in the holes when you're ready.. but don't push it.. okay? Lie there.." and here, he smiles grimly, ".. and enjoy it before Corrie arrives."
*
"Well, you're awake, so that's good," Senna answers Aleister, pressing two fingers to his throat to check his pulse. "That head wound is going to leave you a dashing scar, but as long as it's kept clean, it should at least stay straight. You still have two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, so that's definitely good. Watch my finger…" Once more she moves her finger across the space in front of his eyes. "You've likely got a concussion. You did take a bad blow to the head. But if we can keep you awake for a bit and keep you from throwing up, I think you'll be all right."
*
As Senna's finger come to his throat, she'd find his pulse racing, though that could easily be attributed to the fact that he's just awoken to what could be considered a splitting headache .. quite literally. Or, it could be a telling sign of something worse with the injury. With the racing pulse, his skin is also a slightly warmer to the touch. "Explains the pain," comes he half jested words to Senna, before his eyes half focus on that finger so as to once more track it's movements, "Where's the wound?" Considering his whole head hurts and he can't touch it, he's not entirely sure where it rests. To Anders, there's a simple grunt, soft and quick and it's followed by, "Wait .. what? Corrie?"
*
Anders rolls again, the sound a grunt, and he remains there, his voice lowering. "He doesn't look good.. not right," his words meant for Senna alone. Raising his voice, he answers his friend, "The side of your head." Beat. "And here you say that I have a thick skull.." he tries to jest with his friend. The Flint lord would nod, but he can't, stilled as he is by the board. "Corrie. My Young Lady wife. She's been serving as a chiurgeon.. and she apparently came with your retinue so I wouldn't find out she'd come." There's no hint of accusation, no.. it's more an attempt to illustrate the closeness between the men.. and their ladies.
*
"You might be able to hide some of the scar with your hair, actually," Senna offers, though she doesn't seem pleased with his pulse or the temperature of his skin. "We're going to roll you onto your side, Lord Charlton," she decides, moving to angle one of his legs and stretching an arm above his head before leaning over to roll him. There's room for him to help if he can, but she seems just as ready to deal with a limp body.
*
"Right. Your wife. I knew that." A trying nod of Aleister's head is given with that statement, eyes still focused on Senna for the moment, "Good. Good. My wife would hate for my pretty face to be ruined." Then, there's mention of rolling and when Senna begins to move one of his legs and then his arm, he's helping where he can and stemming back a wince with the movements. As he's moved, there's a quickly questioned, "Will I be ready to ride when we try and break the siege?"
*
Anders is concerned, and the fact that his comments regarding his friend goes unanswers gives him reason for more. Brown eyes remain on the pair, and he watches the carefully, but he keeps the running conversation with Aleister, not letting on that anything could be amiss. "Yes.. you must just have a different nickname for her. Cord.. Cordie.. Cordelya.." He sounds apologetic, but it's for his friend's mental health, as it were. When the siege is asked about, this is one of the things that he knows a little something about.. if only by news carried. "The siege has been broken, Aleister. You've fought and done well in it. This is your first real injury in the battles, so lie still and allow Mistress Senna to attend you." At least he's being compliant— so far. "Seagard is free and the Ironborn have put back out to sea."
*
"Funny thing about head wounds, Lord Charlton," Senna says lightly, putting the reed to his lips once more. "They can go either way, but they don't usually take too long to recover from. I'd say a week, maybe two, and you should be right as rain. If everything goes well, there's no reason you couldn't be /riding/ in a little less than a week, but you don't want to be taking any more blows to the head for a month or two, ideally." Quietly, she rolls up some blankets, setting them behind the lord's back to keep him in place. "I'd like to have someone here watching you, though. Just in case."
*
There's another sip taken from that reed and when it's released, Aleister is offering, "Wait .. what? It's over? I fought?" Clearly, that's a surprise to the man, for he clearly doesn't recall having fought in that battle .. or any other relating to Seagard, it would seem. Nor does the fact that he's lying here with an injury registering to the fact that he must have fought. Eyes once again close as he listens to Senna and when she finishes speaking and placing blankets behind him, there's a slight nod of his head, "Good. A week. I have plans, you know. Things to attend to. Men to muster." One eye cracks back up before it's followed by the other. "Of course. Of course. Attendants. I should have them. I am Lord, after all."
*
"I'm here." As if that's exactly what the mistress meant? It does sound as if Senna's finishing up, and Anders does a quick roll back onto his back before he's truly caught, a grunting sound coming unbidden as he does so. It's a twinge, but now, the constant pain is as a companion now. Odd what one gets used to feeling, though he wouldn't mind some of the milk of the poppy, just.. to deaden the edges of it. "Yes, you fought and bested me in success." The man deserves to know that. "We have no men to muster for a little while. Besides, we can ride for the Roost, you and I, get the ladies, and take a visit to the Reach.. and take our fill of leisure before our senses dull and we seek something different. Just don't get knocked in the head again." The way the man sounds sends a twinge of pain through the Flint's Young Lord, and he asks quietly, "Mistress.. will he be okay?"
*
"I'm not sure," Senna murmurs in Anders' direction. "It's good that he's awake. Now we need to keep him that way. Keep talking to him." She sets the cup down next to Aleister, the reed in easy reach. "Just sip a little when you get thirsty, my lord. And try to stay on your side for me, all right?" Only then does she turn back to Anders, just a glimmer of concern in her features. Of course, there's also a warning look for the Flint lord. "As for you, Lord Flint. I ran into your wife, who was incredibly distraught because she said you had ordered her out of the tent. While I understand the reservations you may have about her presence here in the camp, I have a number of critical patients right now, including orders to keep Lord Kenning alive despite the crossbow bolt he took to his chest. Lord Aleister here is going to need constant supervision. So I am going to take a look at your wounds. And then I will go and assure your lady wife that I have done as she asked, and that she is needed here once more."
*
Now that he's on his side, Aleister can actually see Anders and a hand lifts to give a little wave to the man, for no apparent reason other then he can. When his hand lowers, he's offering, "Always men to muster, Northerner. Haven't you heard? The Haighs and Erenfords seek to rise up against my house and the King. They must be put down like the rabid dogs that they are." A fleeting look is given to Senna so that he can offer, "I'll sleep if I want to sleep, thank you very much. No one can tell me otherwise. This is, after all, my tent." Or so he's been told. "And I don't need supervision. I'm right as rain. A touch warm, though. Bloody servants can never do anything right." As if it's entirely their fault.
*
'Good that he's awake.' Okay, score one.. and Anders can keep him awake and talking. If need be, he'll regale the Charlton with stories of the North where no one really knows if it's the truth of a work of pure fantasy. "Of course you need supervision, my lord Aleister. I told your lady wife I would keep an eye on you.. so pay heed to the healer. She speaks with my voice at the moment." As if that matters?
When Senna turns her attention to Anders, his brows rise; he can't see her, he's on his back, see? And has been in that position for the whole time! "I ordered her from the tent, yes." And he's not going to give reason. "If she wishes to return, she may." Just in case his input on the matter is required? Not that it sounded like it, mind.. but he's gotten his two coppers in. "Lord Kenning.. tell me how the other houses fared before you depart, if you would."
*
Senna only performs a cursory inspection of Anders, confident that as much as can be done for him has been. And if he's wiggling around behind her back, then he can't be too badly off. "Ser Rygar is well, as are Ser Jarod and his squire, Rowan. Lord Jerold made it safely off the field." She pauses, drawing a deeper breath. "I've /heard/, though, that Lord Mallister fell in single combat with Prince Rodrik."
*
A soft grunt sounds from Aleister's lips as he looks back to Anders so as to give a very slight shake of his head, "Right. Of course. My Lady wife. Speaking of .. why isn't she here?" Nevermind the fact that Aron said not that long ago, that he was taking word to her. There's a pause and a blink at the mention that Jason Mallister fell, that having clearly registered amongst the jumbled thoughts, "Well .. that's an interesting piece of news. Plans to be made, then. Things to prepare for. Times are changing." A faint cough escapes past his lips after he's spoken and he's moving to claim the cup so that the reed can be placed between his lips, a small sip taken before it's replaced. Then, almost as an aside, he's looking to Senna, "When I can go for a walk?"
*
Anders nods, taking the information in as it's given. The last bit of information earns the messenger a scowl, his expression falling. He only knows a couple of Mallisters, tops, but they're good folk, and good folk come from good stock. "Damn their hearts.. and may Rodrik's soul never find a drop of water on the ground," he growls, his tones darkening briefly. He exhales in a breath, and closes his eyes, an arm coming to rise and cover his eyes. He's feeling better and there's been no sign of infection. The healers have done their jobs, and done it well. "When I am on my feet, I will be sure to carry my condolences.. Thank you."
Anders takes his words back to Aleister, and seeks to gain the man's attention. "Tell me, Aleister.. what is it about the Haighs and Erenfords that make you suspect such a thing?" Distraction is a beautiful thing. "Ser Aron seems a good sort, and he seems like a devoted man to your cause…" Anders takes the moment to move slightly in order to catch Senna, to give her a slight wave.. he's got this.. he thinks.. before he's back to his friend. "I need you here, Aleister. Mistress Senna is leaving, and I've not the resources to do much for myself yet. And you've been told to remain. Now, please do so and speak to me, and I will tell you what you'd like regarding your lady wife.. who is, by the way, back at the Roost, waiting for news that we'll be riding back. And, we will be.. in about a week when I am able to sit astride a horse without fear of my head popping off my shoulders."
*
"In about four days, Lord Charlton," Senna answers without a pause. "And it will do you good then." And then she's silently seeing to Anders' dressings, changing out those that need it and leaving the bulk of the details for Cordelya.
*
Aleister answers Senna with a simple nod and a quick, "Very good." Then, he's looking back to Anders, though his trademark smirk doesn't yet hint upon his lips. "It's well known that the Haighs and Erenfords scheme behind the backs of others. Clearly, this Ser Aron and his men were sent here as a vanguard. And his sister. She's far too involved with her brother. They scheme and plot together. I'm sure of it." One arm lifts so that his shoulder might give a slight roll before the arm comes to be lowered. "My Lady Wife is at the Roost? Odd place for her to be. She should be by my side, tending to me like a good woman and wife. Make a note, Northerner. That must be rectified."
*
Anders allows himself to be tended, and the wound underneath, though still not pleasant to look at, is healing. The skin is drawing together well, and there's no off-smell or abnormal reddening around the edges. His words, however, are for Aleister once again, "Your lady wife was away from the fighting, which is exactly where she needed to be, Aleister. Amongst other proper ladies, possibly perfecting their art of sewing while we fight the Ironborn to keep them safe and in their fineries." He chuckles in the point, "Our lot in life. Soon enough will be the time when they should be called for." His gaze moves back up to Senna, his brows rising in askance. He has absolutely no clue what he's doing, but he's keeping his friend talking and calm.. and trying to divert his attention when things seem to move in directions where they shouldn't. "If you wish, Aleister, I will take your part and discover Ser Aron's intentions. He can't be too bad as he served as my younger brother's knight.. so if I can't seek motive, my kin will be able to tell you of any plans. As I love you as a brother in arms, my kin will not lie to you."
*
Senna finishes with Anders' bandages, then lets out a slow breath, stepping back. "You gentlemen behave while I go see to getting you some proper service," she says with a small smile, then slips out of the tent. In short order, there will be some of their own servants here, with directions to provide liquid food and drink to the men and keep an eye on them until Cordelya can return.
*
A hand lifts, giving a quick wave to Senna as Aleister offers, "We always behave. It's in our very nature. But do come back, hmm? You're much nicer to look at then those other servants of mine." Then, it's back to Anders so that another faint grunt can be given, "Right. Safe. Proper place. Can't be around the fighting." His hand lifts to his face, rubbing lightly before it falls away, "No. Any man that serves a Haigh can not be trusted. I've already seen to things. Plans in motion. Men to muster. Things to do." There's a sigh and more talking, but now the Charlton Lord has fallen to what can only be described as senseless babble about things of little consequence. At least, though, he's still talking.
