Characters:

Projects:

Other Stuff:

Like what you see?  Don't like it?  Just enjoy writing emails?  Regardless, send me a message at

icefire_147@yahoo.com

I'll probably write back, if it's not spam or random flames.

Back to Logs:

Harper's Tale - December 11, 2001,
------------------------------------------------------

Classroom
Glows bright the room immensely as they highlight the many hides hanging around the room. Tables and chairs are arranged neatly so that the instructors can teach from almost any place in the room, slate boards decorating the entire northern wall. Herbs and spices fill the room with a pleasing aroma, as shelves are covered with hides, scrolls, herbs, and all manners of teaching aids. A small hearth is here, mainly used for demonstrations although there is a pot of klah warming on it, brought over from the hold's kitchens by the apprentices daily.
You see Healer Interview Board, Ripple, Healer Board, Tray1, Narali's Herbal, Infirmary patient, Tray4, Tray5, Teobald, and Tray2 here.
Tyran and Jassay are here.
Obvious exits:
Records Room Healer Center

Jassay has connected.
Jassay wakes up.

Tyran walks in just ahead of the line of apprentices and hops up on the desk, shimmying off his purple Journeyman's robe. He waits for people to assemble and then jumps back off of the desk, stretching his arms out in front of him. As if he were preparing for great physical exertion. "Come in, come in," he waves amicably to the Apprentices peeking nervously in the door. "It is I, Tyran, and it is a class!" Gallant announcement is followed by hiding little mischevious smile with cough. Cough, cough.

Miralwyn strolls in with her usual quiet grace, notebook tucked under an arm and looking very much the Good Lil' Apprentice as she settles in a seat, glancing up at Tyran with dry amusement, and ignoring a dirty look from one of the apprentice males. /She/ certainly wasn't responsible for that rotten egg in his clothespress. She pats a seat, hissing "Jassay, over here."

Jassay makes her way into the room, following behind Miralwyn, not that she actually see's her until hissed at, at which point she finds a seat next to her. "Hey," she whispers before pulling out books and such that are necessary for the class, or at least so she thinks.

Tyran clasps his hands together and wrings them slightly, a look of pure joy on his face. "Oh, how wonderful, our *first* customer." He takes a hesitant, dramatic step foward, then grandly sweeps towards Miralwyn, effectively closing the distance between himself and her and Jassay. He picks her notebook up off of her desk and then turns slightly, to point at the desk i nthe front of the room. "You may go take the seat of honor. Up, up, and away with you, young Apprentice," he says. He then moves through the room quickly, gathering all of the notebooks into a big stack in his hands.

Others may be the picture of perfect students, but the pair of giggling girls that enter with notebooks clutched close and heads bent toward each other don't present exactly that picture. Two pairs of eyes glance up at Tyran, and the giggling increases as they sashay toward a seat.

Miralwyn laughs quietly, and stands, sketching a rather theatrical bow towards Tyran. "As you wish, Journeyman, so shall it be." She strolls anew, heading towards the indicated seat and dodging a kick in the ankles from the aforementioned apprentice male along the way, a little hop in the air breaking her stride. And settles at the desk with a queenly air belied by twinkling grey eyes. This isn't just any lesson, after all. It's a /Tyran/ lesson.

Jassay watches the Journeyman slightly as he takes the notebooks away from them and has Mirawlyn sit up at the front, and her at the back, oh, dear. She sort of smiles to her fellow apprentice as she moves up towards her new seat.

Tyran stumbles slightly--purposely or accidentally?--in the back and sends all of the notebooks crashing to the floor. "Oh, my. How clumsy of me," he just shakes his head and nudges the pile with a foot to spread the joy around the floor. "I guess that means that there will *no notes* taken this class. Darn." He just shakes his head and strides to the front of the room, coming to a halt next to Miralwyn. "Young Healer Apprentices, look at what is presented before you." He pauses and looks over Miralwyn carefully. "Not much, I admit, BUT!..." he yells, holding up a finger. "With intense and dedicated training, she," he points at Miralwyn, "will become a *Healer.*" He walks back towards the class and holds his arms wide before them. "But what does it mean to be a Healer? Your guess is as good as mine." He turns and faces Miralwyn, gesturing grandly, "So make a guess or two."

The giggling girls are now settled in desks, eyes fixed on Tyran.. dare we say... /adoringly/? Oh yes. The giggling girls seem to be leaning toward the googly-eyed study of the journeyman bounding around the front of the room. Aw.

Miralwyn holds herself still as she's held up for the class to examine, although the light dancing in her eyes abates not. She resists the urge to strike a pose. And when Tyran queries her, she props her chin on her hand, tilts her head, and replies that "A Healer devotes their life to serving. We're always there to patch up the bodies and minds of Pern, even if we'd rather sleep in." A nosewrinkle. "Or empty the bedpans and scrub the floors."
Miralwyn *tosses an 'intead' in there. Emptying bedpans and scrubbing floors instead of healing bodies and minds.

Jassay nosewrinkles as well as she listens to Mirawlyn's last statement. The girl adjusts slightly in her chair as she looks about the room, trying to ignore the giggling girls and hear only the Journeyman.

Ah, but the giggling girls are /really/ giggling. That ceased, for the time being, when they took a seat. It's merely that they seem to somehow have the.. aura... of giggling about them. Probably comes from the dreamy way they study Tyran before tilting their heads together for a few whispered comments.
Aren't. They /aren't/ really giggling

Tyran walks towards the back of the room where one of the googly eyed Apprentices watches him--something he's rather aware of. He seats himself on the desk lightly, balancing most of his weight on his feet so he doesn't tip the girl over. He smiles brightly down to her and leisurely puts his arms over her shoulder. "Yes, we are here to serve. And an intimate part of service is the ability to be humble, respectful, and attentive, at all times." He stands up, winks down at the girl, and begins meandering towards the front. "Being courteous to patients and non-patients alike, we represent that time honored tradition of being the Healer." He stops by Jassay. "And yet you must think clearly, be flexible to adjust to any given situation, and be patient with the patients. You must put them at ease in their time of peril so that they may help you help them." He taps lightly on Jassay's head. "Any questions?"
OOC: Tyran says "His arm around her shoulder, rather. :P"

Miralwyn's gaze follows Tyran on his meander around the room, like a Good Little Apprentice should. The gooey girls are given a look of longsuffering, and then her attention focuses on Jassay as the next victim of the Journeyman. A small smile is tipped in her direction.

Tyran
A relatively tall man, his frame has been filled out by age and the accompanying events of a life being lived. His shoulders are average width though create a sense of larger proportion given his six feet and five inches of height. His musculature is lean, though, being neither loose nor tight but just lithe. His skin tone has paled out somewhat, maintaining only a slight dark coloration; his hair color has been similarly bleached, being prinicipally a lighter color of brown with definite streaks of blonde throughout. His hair is medium length, just barely curling about his ears and hanging down in a straight manner above his thin eyebrows. Crystalline green eyes form the centerpiece of his facial features. His thin nose and pointed chin complement his eyes, only a small layer of dark stubble present on his chin.
Tyran's Rucksack hangs heavily from Tyran's shoulder. Tyran wears Tyran's Listening Tube around his neck.
Tyran wears the knot of a Healer Journeyman.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Carrying:
Tyran's Rucksack Mindhealing and Diagnostics
Tyran's Listening Tube
Tyran is 34 Turns, 9 months, and 8 days old.

Jassay
It looks as though this girl doesn't get out in the sun enough with her pale skin, which is only added to by her short, white-blond hair. Her oval face is the focal point of all her features, for sitting daintly upon it is a set of pale, rose lips, a tiny button nose and a pair of icy, dagger like, blue eyes. Long legs make up a majority of this girls five foot two frame. Along with her legs, her elongated arms give this child-like girl a clumsy look. With all of this added together this girl looks like a fragile little bird, who may break at even the slightest touch.
Pale shades of blues, purples and greens make up a majority of Jassay's outfit. Apparently Jassay is trying to downplay her pale skin by wearing pale clothes. Her loose, pale purple top trails to stop at about mid-thigh, the long sleeves coming to an end beyond her nearly white knuckles. A pale blue hide makes up the girls skin tight pants, which start at her waist and end a little beyond her ankels, barely covering up the top of her light green boots. The boots happened to be tied tightly so that they don't clunk around as she moves about. Jassay wears Jassay's Listening Tube around her neck.
Elegant purple and lovely white dance and twirl about, creating a braided double cord with a single loop. This knot indicates that Jass is a junior apprentice in the Healer Hall.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 6 minutes.
Carrying:
Jassay's Listening Tube Jass' book
Jassay's Notebook
Jassay is 14 Turns, 6 months, and 16 days old.

Miralwyn
Thick brown hair frames a heart-shaped face, falling in a gentle wave to just brush her shoulders. Grey eyes appraise the world calmly, although a dry humour often lurks in their depths. The young woman is slim and petite, height rising to a mere 5' 4, with a smooth complexion of olive skin, for the most part free of the lumps and bumps present in many of her age. While delicate in form, she is possessed of a quiet strength, which manifests itself in every movement, although she rarely raises her voice above a low and mellow alto, and travels with sure grace on silent feet.
Utilitarian design of her garments places function and comfort far ahead of style, although like the wearer, the clothing is posessed a quiet grace. A light cotton blouse is tucked loosely into grey cloth slacks, the shirt left in it's natural off-white shading, laces tied loosely and permitting the odd glimpse of a small necklace, consisting of a polished seashell strung on a leather cord. Sandals shoe her feet, sturdy leather well broken in through much use, while her hair is tied back into a runner's tail, with temple locks left free to frame her face. Miralwyn wears Miralwyn's Listening Tube around her neck. Hubris gloats from Miralwyn's right shoulder. Perched on Miralwyn's left shoulder, Terraverte twines her tail around her neck.
Purple and white twine together in a single loop knot. While simple, it's worn with quiet pride by the Healer Apprentice who owns it.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Miralwyn's Listening Tube Hubris
Miralwyn's Notebook Terraverte
You notice Miralwyn looking at you.
Miralwyn is 17 Turns, 7 months, and 13 days old.

Jassay sort of looks up towards the Journeyman and tries really hard to think up a very very good question, yet, this is to no avail. "No sir, not at this point sir," in other words, she couldn't think of anything in which to ask. She's quite upset with this, as she doesn't believe this to be going very good at all. No questions, bad Jass.

The girl whose desk Tyran decides to perch on nearly swoons, and at the wink, the giggles start all over again. She leans toward the other, and frantic whispering commences between the two, with an occiasional glance toward the journeyman.

"Congratulations!" Tyran announces proudly, "You are comprehending the most basic of things you will ever learn in the Healer Craft. You have hope yet, dear girl." He ruffles her hair playfully, then turns in the column and starts walkingn down it again. "Respect also stays in-Craft. Basically, this means you should always use people's titles. Now..." he holds up a hand and whirls around to look up at Miralwyn in the front--make sure she isn't causing any trouble. "Other people will tell you all these other things to say, but my rule is... just use the person's title and they'll think you just a wonderful person." He snorts at that and mutters beneath his breath as he walks to the front of the classroom. "We've all heard of something call cot-side manner," he suddenly begins again. "This is important. Another simple Rule of Tyran to remember. Be nice to patients, and they'll be more responsive to you. But don't be afraid to be firm with them, either, if they try to act up or against your judgment. You are there to serve their health, even if they don't care about." He looks down at Miralwyn. "Understand?"

Miralwyn, cause trouble? Surely you jest, sir! She's as innocent as the day she was born. Cough. Right. Actually, she just knows /when/ to cause trouble, and lessons are not a viable time. So she's just been sitting and watching, thoughts unreadable behind slate eyes. She nods at Tyran's admonitions about 'firm'. "Perfectly, sir." she affirms in her low and quiet alto.

Looking at the class, Tyran's eyes get very large and he says in a little squeaky, annoying voice, "'Perfectly, sir, perfectly. Just perfectly.'" Mocking a certain Apprentice, rather obviously. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at Miralwyn, "How do you know you comprehend anything, Apprentice? This stupid, inane class that you are all bored to sit through," he looks up at the rest of the class, "Will fundamentally guide your practice for the rest of your *life*. That is why I say no notes. You cannot write down what you will learn here, and what, from here, will be reinforced through your experience. It must be understood at its most basic level. Like the issue of empathy versus sympathy." He unfolds his arms and snaps his fingers quickly, "Definitions, give me definitions. What is empathy? What is sympathy? Give me definitions so I know you deserve to be here."

Jassay eyes slightly, as she usually does, watching Journeyman Tyran make his way about the room, stop in front of Miralwyn and ask her his question, in a way. She's quite surprised that she's already comprehending the basic stuff, though why that is is incomprehensible. Jass continues her attempt to ignore the girls and keep her ears forward. She sort of eeks as he continues the class and eeks more when the questions of empathy and sympathy arise. She fumes of sorts, she knows what they are, but as to the definition, well, that she can not do.

Cue more giggling. Evidently there's something funny about Tyran's question, and the two girls don't quite seem to be able to help themselves. They simply.. giggle. Inccessantly.

Miralwyn arches an eyebrow at the journeyman's tone, but otherwise makes no outward response to it. And any thoughts fail to escape through her eyes. Although the apprentice boy over in the corner who's sniggering at her... Well, revenge need not be swift to be sweet... Noting that Jassay isn't supplying any definitions, she decides to risk being labeled a teacher's pet and give it a go. "Empathy vs. Sympathy... I'm unsure, but to me at least, sympathy has always smacked of feeling sorry for a person and not doing much else. Where as empathy seems to be saying that 'I know how you're feeling, I understand your pain'. With empathy, you can move forward to actually /fixing/ the problem. At least, that's what I think." And apprentices are allowed to be wrong, right?

Tyran walks back to Jassay and stands directly in front of her. He looks down at her and jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards Miralwyn, "She's right, at least in theory. But in practice, in practice..." He raises his eyebrows and leans down to be at more of an eye level with Jassay. He looks at her directly and questioningly, "Can you be empathetic without being sympathetic? When you're in that Infirmary and everything is crazy, can you understand someone's pain to help them without feeling sorry for them? Feeling sorry will only inhibit your healing. Empathy, not sympathy." As he stands back up, he winks back at the two girls in the back again and waves a little, "Hi, girls," he calls back to them, grinning brightly. "You failed this course, by the way. You may leave now if you wish." He then turns back to Miralwyn. "Anotehr question, genius Apprentice. Will you ever fail, as a Healer? Fail to make someone better, to keep them alive?"

Jassay walks to the Healer Center.

The giggling girls are /entirely/ too busy giggling to actually /hear/ what Tyran's saying. When they finally do fall silent, it's not because of his statement - but because they're busy staring again, eyes wide and dreamy.

Miralwyn ponders that a moment, the 'Genius' jibe ignored in favour of thought. Ex-weyrbrats develop a tough hide. Yes, the darker side of Healing, this. Her brow furrows, and she sighs slightly, before nodding. "Yes. Failure is bound to happen. There are some fights that... cannot be won" Another sigh, and she squares her shoulders. "However, you can't give up because you know that not everyone's going to make it."

Tyran walks up to the front of the room and drags along a nearby chair with him. He sits down in the chair and looks at Miralwyn, concentrating solely on her. Oblivious to the rest of the room around him. It's gone, and he and Miralwyn now sit, one-on-one. "But how will you feel?" he asks, studying her face and her eyes for the answer as much as he listens for one. "How will it make you feel as a person?"

Miralwyn waits a long moment before speaking, disliking discharging feelings and opinions as half-formed goo. "I would feel... saddened. Certainly saddened, like any normal person. And, I think frustrated and perhaps... angry as well." For better or for worse, those are her thoughts, left to be picked apart by Tyran at his leisure.

Tyran nods slowly and clasps his hands together, leaning forward in the chair such that he has to place his elbows on his knees to balance himself--and to make him comfortable. "Of course. And that's a feeling that we have all had, Apprentices and Journeymen alike. But as Healers, it can become an intense feeling. Almost overwhelming. Therefore, you must be prepared for that." He stands and kicks teh chair out of the way, turning back towards the class. "Everyone will not succeed at some point, and you must be prepared for what that brings with it. You must also be prepared to move beyond that, work through it, and continue healing effectively, continue saving lives and helping people. We save more people than we lose." He walks towards the door and leans up against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest. "I want everyone to take a minute and think about what that means."

Miralwyn nods, and settles back in her chair, pondering obediantly. And then (horrors!) she asks a question. "What do you do, Journeyman, to move on? What's your coping strategy?"

Oh yes, Journeyman. /Do/ tell your secrets. The swooning girls are quite interested, and their eyes never leave Tyran.

Tyran looks up from the floor, which he was studying while giving the Apprentices silence. He stands up straight and just shrugs at Miralwyn, "I know that tomorrow I will help ten other people because I know I can. I stay confident in my abilities, so that I don't question my ability to do something. You have to find your own strategy, though, personally, when it happens. It can be traumatizing, but we train you so that you will have the ability to continue healing. You must keep that in mind, above all else. You do have the ability." He grins, "Otherwise we wouldn't have made you Journeymen." He draws a deep breath and looks at the room. "One last point... is that you must take care of yourself well. You are no good to patients if you are unhealthy and unfit. Your mental and physical health is an important part of Healer training."

Miralwyn *woo's. Made us Journeymen already?
OOC: Tyran kicks Miralwyn. You fail. :>
OOC: Miralwyn thbbts.

Miralwyn nods, and murmurs under her breath "Healerite, heal thyself," in a slightly dry undertone at Tyran's point about personal health. She leans back on her chair, tipping the front legs off the floor slightly.

"You're not allowed to administer fellis, ever. Only Masters have access to it. And... read through the library we have, especially the part about Craft policies and whatnot," Tyran concludes. [OOC: Read your notebook. Read Aerrin's helpfiles. She will love you forever.] He then claps his hands and waves towards the door crazily. "Go, flee. Get out of here quickly before I make you do work!"

Elspeit *tickles. READ THEM! They're awesome. Promise.
Miralwyn *gleams 'n' did. I kiss your feet and feed you chocolate. :)
Elspeit *grins. Do let me know if anything's out of date or doesn't make sense. I /am/ the helpfile goddess.

Miralwyn doesn't need to be told twice. Even Good Little Apprentices (TM) will avoid work if possible. With a bob of her head and a "Thanks for the lesson", the young woman collects her notebook from the scattered pile at the back, and flees accordingly. Well, at least she /thinks/ it's her notebook.

Miralwyn *will do. :)