faderift | I don't want to be the first one folding

Sometimes, she felt bad for healers, and those who worked in the healing tents. No one really wanted to see them, at least while they were on duty. Who wanted to be injured, or have their friends injured? But Beleth was here anyway, a handkerchief wrapped around her hand. She's not sure if this was actually helping or not, but the air just hurt the burns on her hand--And they were pretty gross to look at. She didn't want more people to see them than necessary.

She sat down on a bed, feeling a bit silly. It's not like she was dying, but this was beyond her rudimentary skills with herbs, and she needed her hands at their best if she was going to be able to do anything useful. And she didn't even get injured doing anything cool.

Cool. Heh.

Bruce didn't stay within the tents often, usually preferring to go out and around to help people, but there weren't enough hands and so Bruce had stepped in to help until things were more manageable.

After sending off his last patient Bruce headed back to attend to the next one--then pausing once he sees who it is. He vaguely remembers her, although her name eludes him for now, but Bruce will try to figure that out in time. Hopefully.

"Hello," he starts, just to get her attention and not alarm her.

When someone speaks, she turns to look--Ah. It was the man who'd helped her with the wine. She tried to recall what he'd mentioned. Not a mage, but apparently some kind of healer. Well, if he was here, she was willing to trust that he was good at it.

"Hello." She replied, giving him a slightly sheepish smile. "I'm sorry to bother you, I'm sure there are people who are more injured than I am...But um. I can't shoot a bow like this, and that's kind of...what I'm supposed to be doing here. So."

With that introduction, she took the handkerchief off of one hand, and presented both hands to Bruce. The one that had been wrapped was obviously worse, the heat blisters and pink coloring clearly signaling a second degree burn. The other hand was red and painful, but nothing worse than first degree.

"I was helping in the kitchen, and I got startled, and I knocked a sheet off the table. I wasn't even thinking, I just reached to grab it--" She ducked her head. Smooth going. Of course, she doesn't mention that she wasn't helping as much as liberating some food, and the startling thing had been the cook yelling at her when she was discovered. "--And. Yeah."

That did look pretty bad, no doubt. From the looks of it Bruce is already categorizing the injury and the most likely cause of it before starting to run though the best ways of treatment that didn't involve the use of magic. The temptation was always there, yes, but doing it without magic was always more beneficial for all parties involved.

"It's not a bother at all," he says to reassure her first, then reaches out with his hands hovering close to hers so that he can better study the injury. Burns, just as he thought, although it wasn't anything too bad. Nothing a bit of herbs and poultice couldn't fix.

He steps back once he's seen enough and turns to his bag of supplies, opening it up and rifling through them while he asks her more questions. "What was it exactly that you burned yourself on? Soup? Hot metal?" The more specifics he had, the easier it would be to treat her injury.

"Hot metal." She replied, putting her hands back down. She doesn't like waving them around--Airflow kind of hurts anyway, and she certainly doesn't want anyone to see her hands unless they have to. Which, Bruce kind of has to, if he wants to be able to do anything to help her.

"I was trying to catch a metal sheet I had knocked over. It had bread on it, but the bread had just come out of the oven. I caught it in the hand that was really bad first, and my other hand just kind of brushed it--I let go as soon as I felt how hot it was. But the damage had already been done." She paused, then snorted. "Literally."

Haha. Bruce has never heard that one, probably. She waited a moment, then glanced up to him. "...I'll be able to use a bow pretty soon after this, right? Like--A couple days?"

Bruce listens to her story, nodding while she speaks and rummaging through his supplies at the same time. A few moments and he's got out some containers with poultice and salves within, all of which he puts them all in a line on the table before he glances back at her.

"A bit more than a couple of days," he says with a sympathetic smile on his face. "That hand--" he gestures to the one with the lesser burns, "Will be fine after about three to four days, but the other one is going to take at least two weeks to be fully usable."

Probably not the news she was hoping to hear, but Bruce didn't want to lie to her either. A person's condition and health was important and the last thing he wanted was for people to go beyond what their limits should be at the time. It certainly wouldn't end well for anybody.

"Two weeks? That's too long!" Bruce was quite right, and Beleth looked like Bruce had announced the hand had to be removed. "We're going to Emprise soon, there's going to be missions I need to help with..." She sat back for a moment, to let all the various things that she could not do for two weeks sink in.

That loaf of bread was not worth it.

She chewed on her bottom lip, staring first at her hands, then to her lap, her frown only intensifying as she thought on this grim news. Finally, she looked up, expression turned more worried. "I can't do anything but use a bow. I--Um. I don't have any other real skills." Except spying, but she's pretty sure that the last thing that Leliana really needed was a baby spy still learning the ropes. "Can they...kick me out? Maybe that's too harsh--Um. Let me go for the two weeks? I mean, if I can't do anything, I'm kind of just...taking up resources."

Like bread.

Her reaction was... rather loud, but perhaps not that all surprising. Bruce's only indication of surprise was through a couple of rapid fire blinks, but once that was out of his system he quickly racked his head to think of a way to calm her down - or at least, not agitate her further.

"I'm sure there are other things that you can do," he says, as calmly as he could, and with hopefully what was a patient smile on his face. "Nobody's going to kick you out just because of an injury. What else do you like to do besides using your bow?"

Between the two of them, surely they could figure something out - and if she couldn't, then Bruce had some already up his figurative sleeves that he could make use as needed.

She calmed down quickly, the flash of frustration gone as if it had never existed in the first place. There was no use in throwing a tantrum at him, he hadn't been the one who had gotten her hand burnt like a damn fool. When she looks up at Bruce, there's still worry in her eyes, but it's more restrained.

"Put me on leave, then. Just have me have to leave temporarily, until I could use a bow again." What did she like to do? What else could she do? She had to stop and think about that, eyes moving off off as she tried to tally the list of things that the Inquisition could possibly use. There were a variety of things, but each thing had a dozen people who were far better than she was. After enough silent contemplation, she turned back to him.

"I like gardening. And I like being around the horses and the harts. Not--doing the cleaning part. I mean, I can do that, but I don't like it. I like being around them, and brushing them, and petting them." She paused again. "In my clan, I did trading."

"Alright." Honestly there was no need for her to be on leave or anything - many people had been injured before and there was no need to really do anything either - but if it would help her feel better, then Bruce would do his best to make the necessary arrangements. Ensuring that she had a settled state of mind was more important than saying what was and wasn't the norm.

He nods as she lists down her answers, taking note of them in his head. When she was done Bruce then suggested back to her in return, "Why don't you help out in the garden, then? It could always use more hands, and if you stick to simpler tasks then you don't need to use your hands as much."

She thinks on this, nods. She's not the best gardener, but at least she'd be doing something to help. And the others who helped in the gardens could probably put their efforts to their other jobs. The idea seems to relax her--enough that she feels a little embarrassed about making such a fuss over this whole thing. She ducks her head apologetically at Bruce.

"Um--I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm glad no one is going to make me leave, I just worried..." She paused, rubbing the back of her neck with the good hand. "...I guess it sounds dumb, in hindsight. I just...worry. I want to help, if I can. That's why I'm here." That's why everyone's here, isn't it?

At least that was one problem solved. Bruce returns her apology with a smile, continuing to be as reassuring as he possibly could be. It's not the first time he's had to handle anxious people like this so he has a good idea of how to help them where needed.

"It's perfectly alright," he says, "There's nothing wrong with worrying. But just remember that injuring yourself further won't help anybody at all. It's perfectly fine to take a break and rest, especially when you need it." And in this case she certainly needed it.

She has to suppose that he's right. If she gets hurt worse, then she'll be even more useful. She should just be glad that the Inquisition won't kick her out of the scouts, or fire her in general. Probably. The healer said they wouldn't, and she doesn't have reason to distrust him, not when he's been nothing but helpful to her.

The healer.

He probably has a name, a real name. Beleth first nods to acknowledge what he said, head tilting to the side. "You're right. I'm sorry." And then pauses, balling her hand in a fist, and holding it to her chest, ducking her head to him. "Beleth Ashara. Thank you again, ser."

Bruce pauses when the elf suddenly makes that move to... bow? He guesses its a bow anyway. Was this some sort of Dalish custom?

Either way, its not really something Bruce needed from her. He quickly waves it off, moving introductions along so that he could stop feeling horribly awkward about it. "Bruce. And you don't have to thank me - I'm simply doing my job."

Really, as long as she was fine and would recover, that was all that Bruce needed.

It is a sign of respect, Bruce!!! Gosh!!!

"Bruce," She repeats, nodding. Then a pause, because it would be really embarrassing if she was wrong, "You were at that party Lady Adelaide threw. With the wine." She shot him a sheepish smile, ducking her head. "I still haven't drank very much wine since then. I hope the Orlesians don't kick me out for it." That time, at least, it was a joke, evidenced by her wry grin. A terrible joke, but a joke nonetheless.

Ah, so that was where he saw her. No wonder she had been familiar to him. The memories come back to him now, and he returns her nod with his own, quirking a tiny smile at her words.

"I'm sure they'll be understanding enough about that," he replies, and after a brief pause the smile widens a little more. "Besides, they're usually more concerned with their clothes than the wine."

"The clothing is weirder than the wine." Beleth mumbles, then pauses, and ducks her head sheepishly. At least it was safe, she thinks, to lightly poke at Orlesian nobles. Most people seemed quite happy to do that. "I saw a woman with a neck ruff that went past her mouth. I don't really understand why you would do that...? How do you eat." She snickers, fidgeting with her scarf.

"...You're not from Orlais, are you? I apologize if you are--but, um. I think you dress very reasonably." She adds on quickly. He certainly didn't seem like a noble, and she couldn't pick up an accent, but what did she know?

She was definitely alright with saying those things here. He lets out a small chuckle himself at her comment about the ruffles, clearly finding some amusement in her words.

"If you ever find out, do let me know." His voice was quiet but amused, and that same softness remained as he moved to answer her question, giving a smile again as he did so. "I'm not, don't worry. I'm from Ferelden myself, originally." And Bruce certainly couldn't blame others for not being able to know - the years he spent going all over Thedas meant that he didn't have as much of an accent anymore, and even in looks he wasn't exactly the image of a typical Ferelden.

I don't want to be the first one folding

Bruce

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