To Write Again [Open]

[Windra]

Two weeks out and Retsuko was still at the infirmary. She was absolutely, and slowly, losing her damned mind.

It was bad enough being dragged to the Weyr in a daze, dripping in and out of consciousness as blood formed a trail from the site of her injury to the stage of her healing. But at least now she was on the mend. Sort of.

The big old (bastard) brown wher did a number on her arm yet somehow managed to avoid snapping the humerus. The radial and ulnar bones snapped near the injury site. Avulsed flesh had been torn away, leaving a large chunk missing from her forearm that, unless Retsuko gained some miraculous regeneration abilities overnight, would never go back to normal. Sutures pieced her broken bits together. Fellis juice helped where numbweed could not in sedating her long enough to reduce the bone - lest she'd have been screaming in pain for the duration of its placement and casting.

"It's my dominant hand," Retsuko had weeped sometime during the procedure. "I only write with that one."

Well ... Not anymore ...

Two weeks out. Two weeks of constant supervision by the healers in case of infection or complications. Unable to scream, unable to bark and holler at the moon as a rabid wolf. Silently sitting, reading when she could, sleeping when she couldn't. Her fingers wouldn't bend without sending waves of agony through young bones. Retsuko supposed it was to be expected.

She hated it.

And I hate him. Did she really though? He was only acting out because he was scared and probably pissed. I'd be too. I hope he made it out there okay, but I'd love to swiftly kick him in the jaw too.

Her dominant hand being rendered obsolete meant Retsuko would have to learn to write with her left hand and ... oh ... To be a Scribe with no means of scribing ... The several hides along her bedside table were filled with sloppy messes meant to be sentences, none of which strung together coherently. A good handful were soaked with tearstains.

If Ton were here, he'd give her an earful for sure.

"But Ton's not here," she whispered to herself. Bracing against the aching of her arm and pushing through the brainfog of fellis juice, she dragged her quill against the skin. A solid line, the gentle curve of an 'A'. Then she lost it to a squiggle and hollered frustration, sweeping skin and quill alike from the table as if it'd been a bug. "This is impossible!"

[Agenothree]

Mackenzie wasn't sure what had him wandering so close to Fort's Infrimary to hear a frustrated cry from within, but there he was, pausing in his tracks to process, his expression puzzled. Curiosity kill cat, Kenziesk's voice rumbled in his mind. Not forget. Mackenzie gave a wordless affirmation, considering his options a moment before carefully stepping inside, journal pressed close to his chest. Perhaps he could help, so long as he didn't get underfoot, seeing as he was no Healer. Spotting who he thought might've shouted a moment ago, he carefully approached, noticing a hide almost under his boot, freshly tossed down. Cautiously, he retrieved it and gave it a quick look, his eyes discerning behind his glasses. "I-If you don't mind my asking, what is it you find impossible?" Mackenzie queried softly as he offered a half-smile. "Do forgive me, I was but passing and overheard you say something to such a degree. U-Unless that wasn't...you, in which case, I apologize for my intrusion."