faderift | ( open ) | i'm fired up

WHO: Sidony & you!
WHAT: Catch-all/open for the month
WHEN: All the month
WHERE: Various - library, garden, infirmary!
NOTES: N/A currently

I. LIBRARY

All the books that Sidony had brought with her from Nevarra would never be enough to sate her curious nature, not when there was so much more for her to learn.

She doesn't spend much time with anything that spends a great deal of pages discussing magic or the nature of how magic might aid health - she avoids them completely, skimming them with a turned up nose, frustrated, trying to find something else. She longs for the libraries of the Mortalitasi, what she was able to see, what Ilias had been able to share with her once, the knowledge she had been so close to obtaining before she was casually dismissed.

It's hard not to be frustrated by that, though she does try. Most of the time.

When she has a handful of books in her hand, she makes herself comfortable with practically an entire table, spreading them out and turning here and there to look at specific pages. It's only then that she stops and unravels her own parchment, frowning as she looks at diagrams of the human body - different to what she's experienced personally, but that's to be expected. Not many people, even in modern day Thedas, might have the access to the dead that she does. Another thing she ought not to mention to anyone.

It's there that she can be found for many hours of the day, her candles constantly burning low as she turns pages, often ending up squinting in the half-dark with people milling around her.

II. INFIRMARY

This is where she spends most of her time, even if it might not be entirely obvious.

Sidony is always careful to clean up after herself. The little area she had been given when she had first arrived is enough for her, a small section of notebooks placed at one side, a series of vials and jars of poultices and herbs settled on the other end. It's always incredibly neat; as if she fears inspection at any time, as if she imagines that someone might come and demand something of her, demand that she do or appear better than she is, as if she is not good enough. Sometimes, things from childhood are difficult to shake.

More often than not she is making notes in a little planner, settled comfortably, leaning on her desk. Even here she is dressed very well - handsome, almost as if designed to make her beautiful amidst all the hassle and dirt the infirmary might itself bring. If someone comes in she's quick to put her quill down and glance over at them, to peer, a small, thin-lipped smile on her face for a stranger and something a touch softer for someone she knows.

A squeak as her chair is pushed back: you have her attention.

III. WILDCARD

( Find Sidony in the Gallows (her rooms!) or the garden, or somewhere else! Feel free to message me for a personal starter )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Walking to and from the shelves had never been much of an issue for Sidony when she was in Nevarra; there were always people wishing to help her, to aid her, to give her support in return for a whisper in her mother's ear or the promise of a dance at some point, but the Inquisition is different. There is no one to carry her books for her because she is a surgeon now, a physician in her own right, and it seems silly for her to imagine herself eighteen and young as she had once been.

Idle thoughts had never settled well with her, and so she keeps herself busy.

It's with a pile of books in hand that she walks along the sections of the library, barely paying attention as she goes. She reaches for one a little higher than her slight frame, a few inches from the top of her fingertips, and she frowns, leaning just a little more, pushing herself -

before she goes tumbling completely into someone else.

Gasping, she stares down at the man she has dropped an armful of books onto, hesitating for a moment before she leans down to begin to gather them. She is, certainly, more embarrassed than she is apologetic.

"I beg your pardon. I did not mean to shower you in dust."

In between his studies on the Fade, Finel has also taken to trying to learn more about healing magic. Unfortunately it's one thing to read about such techniques, but without a proper teacher he's unlikely to progress very far on his own, at least not where certain things are concerned. He's mulling this over, perhaps not paying as much attention as he should have, otherwise he might have noticed her rather precarious position and been able to lend a hand, or at least avoid the cascade of heavy texts.

As it is, he's knocked to the floor with the suddenness of the avalanche, corners and weighty volumes bruising against his limbs. Dazed, he stays where he falls for a moment before trying to pick himself up with a pained groan, rubbing at his head as he looks up at her, a little in disbelief.

"Ah...it was a little more than dust..." But he manages a faint smile anyway. That's going to hurt later.

Gathering the books doesn't take too long; she picks them up and places them to one side in a pile, a hefty collection of tomes on healing and physiology, as limited as they are. Once the books are taken care of she casts a critical eye over Finel, making sure there's no signs of bleeding or serious injury; what kind of a reputation that would give her, a healer who cut down an elf in the middle of the library.

At least she doesn't sneer at him. That, she imagines, might be better than some people are given.

"Are you injured?" She's not going to reach out and start touching him - wildly inappropriate - but at least she might be able to do something if he is hurt. It is her area of expertise, after all.

There are no obvious abrasions, at least, even if some parts of him where the heaviest books fell are already starting to ache. Once they've all been cleared away, Finel wobbles to his feet, rubbing slightly at the back of his head before his hand moves to the tip of one ear, chafed and red. He frowns slightly at the pain, and then gives her a weak smile.

"Perhaps only my pride, a little." A bit embarrassing to be knocked to the floor by a pile of books, after all.

Perhaps something for bruising, then. There's a wrinkle on her nose as she looks at him, adjusting her skirts and smoothing them down, ignoring the dust on her fabrics. She does feel a little bit guilty, but he's not bleeding - that at least makes her feel less concerned about the situation as a whole.

"Nothing too serious, then?" Something like a tight smile settles on her face. "I am sorry."

An eyebrow quirks up despite himself, settling over a patient, closed-lipped smile. "Not so far, at least, thank you."

Finel glances at the books she's re-piled that had been on top of him only moments before.

"May I ask what it is you've been studying?"

Not so far. Something settles over her features and she picks up some of her books, moving to one side and hefting them to settle on a nearby table. At least he's not screaming or cursing her out, which she's sure might be prone to happen.

He's a little kinder than that.

"Medicine. I've read all of my own books so many times that I decided I might investigate what Kirkwall has to offer."

Some people might not have recognized the incident as an accident. In some ways he could be naive, but Finel also prefers to at least try to give people the benefit of the doubt; it's unlikely that she intentionally dropped them on him, after all. There's no point in screaming about it, even if he is going to be sore tomorrow.

Regardless, he perks up at her response.

"Are you a healer?"

Sidony has no personal vendetta against elves, at least; she has no reason to dislike them. Without faith in the Chantry to guide her she has no reason to think they're anything less than people. She treats the body, no matter what the race that inhabits them.

Awkwardly, she shifts, skirts curling around her feet as she shakes her head.

"Not a healer, no. A surgeon. A physician."

"Oh, I see. Forgive me, I hadn't ever met a non magical healer until I came here." By now he's met a few, but he's spent much of his time here in the library studying thus far, and not as much in the clinics yet.

"If you don't mind me asking, what sort of skills do you have?"

"Not many people have. I suppose you cannot be blamed for it." It's said with the air of someone who is more than just a little accustomed to being dismissed because she doesn't have magic, something a little tense knotting inside of her. Her nose wrinkles a little before she breathes out gently.

"I can set bones, repair bleeding, create non magical pastes that can aid against swelling and damage and I can treat an imbalance of the humours, as well as the needlework needed for any kind of surgery."

Finel at least has the grace to look a little embarrassed for it. There's so much of the world it seems like he had missed from being so isolated with his clan. It's hardly that he begrudges them for it, but the world was so much more vast and varied that he'd realized.

"Would you mind terribly if I came to observe your work sometime?"

It's not as if it's the first time she has been misjudged; it is something that will simply keep happening until she is either famous or dead, she thinks. At least this one doesn't seem to mean anything cruel by it, which stops her from being quite as snippy as she might have been otherwise.

"If you like. I cannot promise it will be the most novel of experiences."

Finel smiles, clearly pleased at not having been turned down.

"I'm just interested in learning as much about different types of healing as I can. Magic isn't always the best solution for everything."

( open ) | i'm fired up

finel.

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