The Grey Tower

"Hello?" Hair still wet from the scrubbing she'd insisted on giving it, even though that was much harder to accomplish with the simple basin of warm water that she'd been provided than it might have been in a bath, Akymba peeked her head in through the thick door, behind which she was hoping lay the infirmary. The white-clad novice that had brought the basin after Avram had seen her safely into the tower had repeated his concern that she perhaps ought to have her bloodied hand seen to, and though she'd initially paid no more mind to those words than she had those of the young man, a brief scrub of that hand, even with the relatively-soft cloth that she'd been given to wash with, had elicited a sharp pain, followed by a deep, lasting ache. She was fairly certain that nothing was broken, but it was abundantly clear that at minimum, her knuckles would be black and blue tomorrow if she didn't get them seen to, and perhaps swollen as well. I'd forgotten how Light-blinded thick Vander's fool head is, she thought to herself, as she gingerly placed that hand to the door in order to lever it open a little further, when the room she was looking into didn't prove to be the private quarters of anyone.

Cold water dripped slowly down her back, from locks that were now more curly than wavy thanks to the water she hadn't fully wrung out, but though it tracked dark trails down the clean maroon dress she'd changed into, that discomfort was a far cry from the throb of ache through her hand as she pressed it flat to push the door aside. It wasn't enough to do more than convince her to let out a breathy curse, but it distracted her from immediately seeing who was about. It wasn't until she'd decided that this had to be the infirmary, and had actually moved into the room and closed the door behind her, that she noticed a plump blonde woman seated at a desk a few feet ahead of her and off to one side, busily scribbling on a sheet of parchment. She'd apparently not noticed that Akymba had entered the room. The woman looked to be older than she was, she instantly decided, but not as much so as to have been of an age with her mother; there was no lining of silver to the dark blonde locks that were fixed in a thick braid high on her head, which in turn was wrapped twice about her the crown of her head and tucked seamlessly into itself for a neat and very functional hairstyle. Presently, the woman finishing her writing, and called, "Miriana!", and from a door just a little further down the room, there appeared a younger girl - a little older than herself, but younger than the first woman - whose robes at least told Akymba at once that she was a novice, where she did not recognize the older woman's garb, which marked her as Accepted.

"This one is ready now," was the older's prompting, and the younger took the sheet of parchment from her, brushing past Akymba with a polite but rushed, "Excuse me," as she made her way out the door. It was only then that the blonde woman seemed to take notice of her. "Well, don't just stand there, child. Come in. I'm Dorine - what brings you- now where did you get that?" Before she could even finish the question, Dorine spotted the already-bruising knuckles of Akymba's hand, and crossed the room to her, taking the hand up in both her own and tsking her tongue. "You'll live, but... healing now, questions later. Through there." Instantly, Dorine was giving orders, and didn't even give the girl a chance to protest before she was ushered through another door - straight into a room where all of the lesser of the injuries were dealt with; the room of the students who were still studying healing with the power.

Jhanic felt like for the last hour, he had simply been keeping out of the way as people ran about, finding things to do. He helped out when he saw an opportunity, but it mostly entailed running from one end of the room to another, or reaching something high up that someone else could not reach. He had volunteered to help in the Infirmary today, to practice more independently with his Healing, and he had Healed a few scrapes and minor burns that day, but most of it was support, which he did not mind. He felt mostly like a Wise One's apprentice in this atmosphere, and he was happy to oblige.

The door to the room opened, and he saw just the tip of a head of dark hair walk in. He likely was the only one to see the patient enter. His arms tingled as women all around him worked with Saidar, and he felt the pull of Saidin as men worked as well. He wove through the small crowd until he came face to face with the small young woman. The girl did not come up to his chest, and she looked around the room with a pair of sharp hazel eyes. She was not Aes Sedai, so her dress was a bit strange. She must have been a patient, but her wound seemed hard to see.

Looking to her side, he noticed that one of her hands seemed to have bruises and swelling. She didn't seem to be in a lot of pain, but she would be, if the hand was not Healed soon. "I am Dedicated Jhanic," he said with a cordial nod. "Your hand seems to be injured. May I offer you a Healing?" he asked. He motioned with his arm toward a pair of empty chairs. At his motion, one of the Aes Sedai jumped to see her. She narrowed her eyes and kept moving. Not reacting to this, but still keeping mindful of it, Jhanic waited for the young woman to answer.

Where Jhanic was by far the tallest in the room, his newest, unaware patient was among the shortest, and thus from her perspective could barely see the people right in front of her, much less further into the room around the bustle of people as they went about their business. She was shuffled aside abruptly by another novice, who was scurrying about even more busily than the ordinary people that permeated the room, making it seem crowded and clustered to a girl who'd grown up in a very small town. There were more people in this room, it seemed to her, than had been in her entire village back home, though part of that was simply the illusion of a relatively small space filled with a few more people than was it was really meant for. Some were patients, and some those who were performing Healing, and some she guessed might be servants... but all seemed not to notice the young woman, until at last a large fellow stepped forward. Without realizing she'd done so, she fumbled back a step, looking up and up and up at Jhanic, taking in not only the sheer height, but the shock of red hair that crowned his head... and the jagged line down one side of his face that made her cringe internally.

She'd never seen red hair before - most of the folk back home were dark haired and eyed like she was, with the rare occasional blonde child born being a great source of comment - but the scar spoke to her of a fighting man, and those too had been a rare sight in her life. To have him suddenly staring down at her caused a flutter of sudden anxiety, but stubbornness and a hot temper stiffened her spine before she could cower; somehow, despite having to raise her chin awkwardly to meet his gaze, Akymba managed to pull an amount of control and snooty authority - albeit assumed - into her voice, and speak as though she had been completely unbothered by him, and indeed had been impatiently waiting for him to arrive. "That's what one comes to an infirmary for, isn't it?" Her comment was a little tart, but not unduly rude. She was brave, but not entirely without respect for her own skin. "I picked up this scrape on my way into town today. Clipped it... on a rock." Yeah... Vander's rock-thick skull, she thought, and against her best resolve, a plucky little grin inched onto her features. "For all the look of my hand, you should see the other fellow. Funny how quickly they crack and squeal."

Jhanic noticed the subtle hesitation to address him when she first laid eyes on him. The fact that one so much younger than he, and one so much smaller than he could take such a tone with him made him want to laugh, but he kept a calm face. This was a patient, and her response was likely defensive. It wasn't until she explained how she had some to have this nasty wound on her hand that he could not help himself. As they both sat in either chair, Jhanic's laugh bubbled from him, then erupted into the laughter of appreciation for a good joke. That quieted about half the room for a moment. He did not laugh all the time, after all. "I am sure that rock owed you quite a toh," he said with a grin. "You did well."

He sobered himself and straightened his back, then looked his patient in the eye with a professional demeanor now. "Before I begin to Heal you, there is a weave that I must perform to check your overall health. You will feel--" He was going to say more, but an Accepted stopped him as she sidled over to them, a small babe in her arms.

Accepted Inari leaned over while swaying, keeping the colored bands on her dress moving to try to soothe the child. She lowered her voice and spoke in Jhanic's ear. "Jhanic, that girl needs to see the Mistress of Novices after you are finished with her. Will you escort her there, please?" she asked calmly. He looked the Accepted in the eye and nodded before going back to the patient. Hopefully, that would stop the other women from gawking.

"When I perform that weave, you will feel a brief sensation of warmth. Before I go any further, may I ask your name?"