04-09-2025, 07:42 PM
His shoulder was killing him. He wasn’t sure if it was all the firestone that he had helped that weyrling bag – they had looked to be struggling! – or the fall that he had taken tossing them all into the firestone closet – it hadn’t been that bad! Just a heavy bag knocking into his shoulder; he’d had worse with an actual body – but he could feel it. It was never a good thing when he could feel it. Chelle tried to shrug his left shoulder a little, greeted with an immediate ache, and a hindered motion. Yup. He’d hurt it. Oops.
There was a part of Chanterelle that was tempted to just go and lift a bag and fall the other way instead. That’d probably fix it, right? It’s how it all usually worked out in the end, at least, but there was that voice of reason in the back of his mind telling him to go see a healer instead. It wasn’t his voice, and he hadn’t quite figured out who lingered in his conscience with a sense of self-preservation, but there was a chance that he was going soft.
Great. He’d have to find a job to fix that. Softness wasn’t good. He was supposed to be used to the aches, tough as a wher. He felt a bit like a firelizard here.
Fortunately for him, he knew exactly where the healer’s quarters were; it wasn’t his first time visiting them. A quick wave to one of the apprentices, a bright smile and the promise of sweets from the kitchens, and he wasn’t sent to sit and wait in a chair but instead pointed towards one of the rooms off to the side. A private place to wait where no one would know that he had been doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was perfect!
He whistled as he walked in, eyes immediately pulled to the odd, uncanny creatures stuffed on pedestals on the walls. Curiosities that he hadn’t seen before but immediately took an eye to. He pressed in closer, nose so close it wrinkled at the faint residue of whatever was on them as he lifted a finger and poked one, watching as it wobbled precariously with wide eyes. When it didn’t fall, he whistled quietly as he pulled away, eyes lifted towards the ceiling as he moved towards the desk.
The skull was his sole, and single, focus as he turned to glance at the scattered documents, catching instead the very prize that the wooden surface had to offer.
“Hey buddy!” he sing-songed, looking at the dark eyebrows painted onto the skull’s surface, giving it a glaring look as he picked it up in his right hand. His thumb braced its jaw, fingers finding its sockets as he lifted it to his head’s height.
“Unhand me, you fool!” Chelle’s voice had a mock-shrillness to it as he waggled the bones in time with his words.
“Awww, but how long has it been since you’ve seen the outside, pal? I bet you could use some air!”
“Air? AIR!? What use do I have for air when I don’t have any lungs!” Chelle’s quiet chuckle was stifled as the mouth bobbed up and down again, his pain momentarily forgotten.
“I’m sure we could find you a pair somewhere. Might help cheer you up!”
There was a part of Chanterelle that was tempted to just go and lift a bag and fall the other way instead. That’d probably fix it, right? It’s how it all usually worked out in the end, at least, but there was that voice of reason in the back of his mind telling him to go see a healer instead. It wasn’t his voice, and he hadn’t quite figured out who lingered in his conscience with a sense of self-preservation, but there was a chance that he was going soft.
Great. He’d have to find a job to fix that. Softness wasn’t good. He was supposed to be used to the aches, tough as a wher. He felt a bit like a firelizard here.
Fortunately for him, he knew exactly where the healer’s quarters were; it wasn’t his first time visiting them. A quick wave to one of the apprentices, a bright smile and the promise of sweets from the kitchens, and he wasn’t sent to sit and wait in a chair but instead pointed towards one of the rooms off to the side. A private place to wait where no one would know that he had been doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. It was perfect!
He whistled as he walked in, eyes immediately pulled to the odd, uncanny creatures stuffed on pedestals on the walls. Curiosities that he hadn’t seen before but immediately took an eye to. He pressed in closer, nose so close it wrinkled at the faint residue of whatever was on them as he lifted a finger and poked one, watching as it wobbled precariously with wide eyes. When it didn’t fall, he whistled quietly as he pulled away, eyes lifted towards the ceiling as he moved towards the desk.
The skull was his sole, and single, focus as he turned to glance at the scattered documents, catching instead the very prize that the wooden surface had to offer.
“Hey buddy!” he sing-songed, looking at the dark eyebrows painted onto the skull’s surface, giving it a glaring look as he picked it up in his right hand. His thumb braced its jaw, fingers finding its sockets as he lifted it to his head’s height.
“Unhand me, you fool!” Chelle’s voice had a mock-shrillness to it as he waggled the bones in time with his words.
“Awww, but how long has it been since you’ve seen the outside, pal? I bet you could use some air!”
“Air? AIR!? What use do I have for air when I don’t have any lungs!” Chelle’s quiet chuckle was stifled as the mouth bobbed up and down again, his pain momentarily forgotten.
“I’m sure we could find you a pair somewhere. Might help cheer you up!”