Even though it was still the rainy season, some mottled dawn light could be seen on the floor of the infirmary. This pleased Algernon to no end. It had been so long since the sun made a prominent appearance on the grounds of the school. The rainy season was his least favorite time of the year; with all the dreariness, it just wasn't good for morale.

Algernon swept the brick floors of the infirmary, humming a soft Hessean tune. The days had been treating him well. Somehow he convinced the Head Healer of the infirmary to give him a chance, a chance he hoped she wouldn't regret. As the hustle and bustle of the infirmary increased, so did his hum.

The day seemed like it would go along smoothly, maybe he would even be able to help out another healer.

Abe leaned on the infirmary door, pushing it open with her back. In her arms, she hefted a pile of rather large books. These tomes, ranging in subject from the expected medical to the obscure ley physics, were destined for the shelves of her new office. Apparently, some poor sap had applied for her job, and the only way her employers could fit him in was to promote her. This was rather ironic timing, too--after that troubling exchange with Harper, she couldn't care less about advancing her own career.

She turned to see an enormous Hessean, and she paused quizzically. A strand of hair had gotten loose from her bun, and she, having no hands free, tried to blow it away from her face. This turned out to be a futile endeavor.

"Oh, hello," she panted. "You must be the fresh meat. Welcome." The healer nodded as she moved to pass him. "Now if you would excuse me, I have shelves to fill."

Ruhi Ha hated infirmaries. Actually, this was something of an unfair statement. Ruhi Ha absolutely loathed infirmaries. Something about the heavy feel of living magic in the air, the astringent smell of cleanliness-- whatever it was, Ruhi didn't like it. So though she managed various and sundry unladylike scrapes and tumbles, she very rarely let herself be treated for them. This particular incident, however, had occurred in front of a professor, and a new, young one at that, who had nervously proclaimed that such a horrific gash on her leg should be attended to by a healer at once. Ruhi had no choice but to comply, though it didn't stop her from feeling sullen about it.

Her nose bunched up in distaste as she stared at the infirmary door. Healers! If she didn't know that the professor would check up on her, and that she wasn't very good at lying, she would turn around and go back to her room right now. As it was, she knocked heavily on the door, letting it swing open a little.

"Pardon the intrusion, but I have been told to see a healer...?"

Algernon glanced down at the new voice. A small (compared to him) woman was standing in front of him. Her face gave him the impression of an elongated owl. He had never seen someone with a nose so hawkish before; the spectacles did not help either. She spoke with a jaded voice that made him cringe. Could someone petite and in such a beautiful profession actually speak in such a way? It seemed so.

"Yes, I am the fresh meat. Algernon Aynesworth at your service, it's a pleasure to me -- " His introduction was interupted by the intrusion of a young mugrobi student. Her leg was considerably raw and looked like it needed a healer immediately.

"Uh, miss, you might want to take care of that hurt student."

"Erm, yes," Abeline replied, taking a second glance at Mr. Aynesworth. She couldn't shake the sudden feeling of familiarity. Had they been in a class together? Could she possibly have forgotten such a massive construction of a man? Perhaps he was shorter then.. and looked less like a lost, heroic sheep.

"Student." The healer swiveled to face her latest patient. "Madam." The books got repositioned within her arms--precariously, no doubt--and she adjusted her spectacles to take a cursory survey of the damaged limb. "Quite the nasty cut you've got there. Here, why don't you go to that examination room," she indicated which one by eyebrow alone, "and I'll take a look at you, hmm?"

After that, Abe considered logistics for a moment, came to a conclusion, and hoisted her pile of books on to Algernon.

"Take these to my office, would you? Doesn't have my name on it yet--Abeline B. Ixbridge, by the way--but the door should be notable by its distinct lack of any moniker whatsoever." She smiled blandly down the hall, keeping an eye on the injured student. "Just put them on the desk. Mind the boxes. Oh, and you can observe the, erm, proceedings, if you'd care to see how the job is done here at the state-of-the-art-et-cetera Brunnhold Infirmary."

Ruhi looked down at the healer. She didn't really want to be examined, but she was already here. The girl nodded glumly, heading to the examination room indicated.

The gash on her leg wasn't that bad, she felt. It looked disgusting, this was true. Still, it couldn't be too bad. It barely even hurt, except when she brushed against it. Stretching from the top of her ankle to the middle of her shin, it was red and raw and all-over with bits of dirt and crumbles of debris. The blood had dried, for the most part.

"This would never have happened if I weren't in this skirt..." she muttered darkly.

Algernon took the papers from his superior. He bombarded her with a smile that would make someone with glistening dentures jealous. His smile had always been one of his best features. His smile had always been a source of envy among his school-mates. Upon blinding the poor healer, Algernon turned on his heel to place the papers in his superior's office.

He made his way down a small grey hallway; completely contrasting the main section of the infirmary. The doors he passed were home to the resident healers, the people he emulated. Being their peer was one of his dreams. After finding the only room without a plaque on the door, he quickly walked in and placed the stack on the desk.

He found his way back to the main area of the infirmary to find Abeline and the student in the same exact place he left them. Now it was on to the fun part of working in the infirmary: healing.

"Ah, skirts. I remember those. Dreadful things. Should be abolished." She looked down--or, rather, up--at the Mugrobi student, absently patting her betrousered hips. Suddenly, a sly grin hopped on her face, and she added, "You know, I was always trying to get my schoolmates out of their dresses." The grin fell instantly, and she grumbled to herself, "But then, they never did see reason--"

A dark presence loomed in her peripheral vision, and she instinctively spun around to face it.

"Oh! Hello again, Algy!" The healer stiffened, and her panicked fingers smoothed down her collar. "Don't you know it's unwise to go creeping up on your superiors like that? Might've stabbed you with something."

She sniffed in mock offense at the man, then returned her attention to the blue-eyed girl. "Now then. Take a seat, young madam, and we'll soon have you on your merry way. I'll just need to get the.. oh..."

Remembering that she now had a pesky assistant, Abeline tucked away a loose strand of hair and smiled at her new toy. "Mr. Aynesworth, would you be so kind as to grab a pledget from the jar and a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet?"

There was an undercurrent to the healer woman's statement that made Ruhi squirm a little. Still, she was pleased to have an ally-in-arms over the very important issue of just how truly dreadful skirts were, so she decided to take everything that was said at face value and simply forget any thoughts of anything different.

Feeling somewhat cheered, Ruhi sat down as she was bade. "Skirts really are terrible," Ruhi proclaimed happily. Finally, someone who understood! Her mother had always tutted and fretted and wondered just when it was that Ruhi would settle down and become a "proper lady", and she'd made no friends at home or here, let alone ones who understood. So happy was she that she didn't even hear Abeline speak of the alcohol to be applied shortly to her leg.

"As you wish, Ms. Ixbridge." Algernon dutifully obeyed the younger healer's request. He turned and shuffled towards the cabinet. All the medical supplies for the infirmary were held in this giant mahogany cabinet. It was the first place every healer became acquainted with when they started out. Algernon remembered the same cabinet from his school days. Days of tripping and duels gone wrong.

He retrieved the medical supplies from the cabinet, the soft pledgets and the vial of alcohol. Both supplies fit comfortably in the giant's tan hands. It seemed most things did these days, it seemed as if everything was becoming smaller.

He returned to Abeline, handing her the items she asked for. "Here you go."

Abe nodded to the assistant and offered her patient a small, wary smile. The girl looked like a kicker. Perhaps this was a good time to evaluate Mr. Aynesworth's usefulness. At the very least, he looked like he could absorb a few blows.

"Actually," she said, adjusting her spectacles, "why don't you have a go at it?"

She paused, analyzing the man's field for a second, then added, "Now, of course you know that the mona are perfectly capable of ejecting germs as they heal; however, it's always best to reserve your energy. This may seem like an average day, but keep in mind that anything could happen. Backlashes, diableries, riots," the healer counted on her fingers, mentally amending ghosts and hatchers and mad professors, "a-and gods know what else."

"As healers, it is our responsibility to know our limits." She handed the materials back to Algernon, keeping her gaze steady on him. Her reedy voice took a very precise tone, "There will be no brailing here. Do you understand?"

Algernon's eyes widened at the healer's request. It was only his second day and he was already helping students. He wasn't sure if he was to be ecstatic or scared. His heart formed a mixture of both. He wanted to jump for joy, but at the same time, run back to Vienda.

He exhaled. He wished his first patient wasn't so young. He could break her legs if he applied too much pressure. She looked, at most, fourteen. Looking back at his teacher, he nodded telling her he was ready. He took the cotton ball and placed it on top of the vial. He flipped it over, letting the liquid absorb into ball of white fluff.

After the alcohol had soaked into ball he placed it on the patients leg.

Ruhi eyed the Hessean healer with suspicion. Healer Ixbridge was a face she knew fairly well from various trips to the infirmary. Known, trusted, reliable. This man, Aynesworth he'd been called, seemed to be rather, well, new. Ruhi's trust of healers in general only went as far as she could throw them. Her trust of new, inexperienced healers? Nonexistent.

She opened her mouth to protest being tended to by an amateur when the alcohol-soaked swab was placed on her leg. Abruptly, the protest turned into a scream and Ruhi's foot shot out before she could stop herself, kicking Aynesworth in the shins. Oh, blows from a fight, scrapes and scuffles, those she could take. But the healing process? Now that was something altogether much more difficult to deal with.

"Bajea!" That stung. Dark little face screwed up into a scowl as she tilted her head to look up at him. Just like a healer, waiting until she was distracted discussing one of her favorite subjects-- the abolishment of the skirt --and then bam! Stinging alcohol to the leg.