"I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons."
Remington Typewriter Poetry ~ Christopher Poindexter
I am done with this, Ava concluded impatiently, pulling her cloak on and hauling the satchel over her shoulder. If I sit around here, nothing good will come of it.
Her feet carried her, the destination a familiar one, as she indulged her thoughts.
I am at my best when I am helping others. That's when I am truly me, she realized, stepping through the wide, arched doorway into the Skyhold infirmary.
"I thought you might like to have an extra pair of hands about?" she asked the Head Physician's assistant, a stout Royan called Girard.
"It's been a busy night, but not too bad," the man said tiredly. "Mostly people who have over indulged…" He made a gesture with his hands, as if shaking a cup before his lips. "I welcome your aid, though. I had to take two back-to-back shifts— Mullins is out sick."
"Is she alright?" Ava asked, placing her satchel on the desk and surveying the receiving area. A woman waited, resting her head against the wall, eyes shut, as she sat on the long wooden bench.
"The season's usual ailments," Girard replied, clearing his papers off the table to make room for her. "Cough, fever, congestion. But she can't be anywhere near the patients," he justified.
"Of course," Ava acknowledged. She pat Girard on the arm. "Go get some rest. I'll handle the walk-ins. Who else is on duty?" It occurred to her that perhaps there was a small possibility that Adan would be there, too.
"Collins should be coming out of surgery…Olivier and Elanar are doing the rounds. If you need help, you can always fetch one of them." He stood and stretched before casting her a grateful look. "Thank you."
She winked at him as she approached the woman, placing her hand on her shoulder and crouching down to speak to her.
She hadn't been at the infirmary for more than hour before she had seen a steady incoming stream of patients.
"We were patrolling the ramparts when he just went down," the soldier explained. "Bam!" His hands spread out, his eyes open wide. "Out cold for a few minutes. Black ice it was. The Captain thought it best you take a look at him." He grabbed his companion by the arm and shook the slightly dazed man. "Louis, tell the healer!" he enunciated loudly. Ava shrewdly stepped between them.
"It's quite alright, I can take it from here."
She admitted him for a concussion.
A representative from Hercinia had been rushed in, complaining of pain in her chest.
"I think it's my heart," she explained breathlessly. Ava examined her, noting the swelling in her ankles, and ran to her satchel, taking out two vials and a packet of salts. After she'd medicated the woman, she sat beside her on the cot, her hand on her chest, magic flowing from her palm and fingertips, until she could sense a strong, steady, regular pulse. She'd distracted the woman with casual conversation on Hercinia and questions about the fabled Circle of Magi at nearby Ostwick.
"I took the medicine my physician gave me, but it doesn't seem to have worked," the woman told her, discouragement in her voice.
"The Head Physician will see you soon. I think we may need to adjust your dosage," Ava comforted her. "Sometimes travel can stress the body," she explained, helping her settle in the cot.
That was followed by a ruckus at admitting.
"Hello? Hurting over here!" someone cried out crossly.
She hurried out to find two women— a petite blond, freckled elf, and a rotund, ruddy-faced brunette. The brunette held her hand up gingerly, her face stuck in a grimace.
"What happened here?" Ava rushed over, noticing some very swollen fingers. The elf approached her and launched into a narrative regarding the unfortunate circumstances of their evening:
"Me and Henny here thought we'd have some fun at the party- real fun, not some poncy lord's idea of fun, yeah? We went in the cloak room and switched the cloaks and hats around so they'd be all—'What, that's not mine! Give it back! Give it back!' " She acted the scene out humorously, her arms flying about her. "But then we heard someone coming and we hid in the armoire…and that's when it all went tits up."
"You slammed the door on my hand!" Henny wailed indignantly.
"I did say 'All in!'" the elf said with exasperation.
One of the fingers, Ava concluded, was sprained. She wrapped and splinted her middle finger, and after laying her hands over the bruised area to reduce the swelling and administering some medicine for the discomfort, gave her instructions on how to treat the injury.
"Great, Sera," Henny turned to her friend in a sulking tone. "I won't be able to do my work in the kitchen properly. Lionor is going to kill me…"
"Oh, stop with the sobby face," she retorted. "I'll help you, alright?"
Henny lifted the bandaged hand, the wrapped finger much more prominent.
"Are you flipping me off?" Sera asked, with a wild glint in her eyes. Henny glanced down at her hand for a moment, somewhat confused. "That is brilliant, innit?" she continued with excitement. " Everyone will be asking 'How's your hand?' And you can just go like this and flip them off— and can't get in trouble because: it's just little messed up fingers!" she laughed delightedly.
Ava stepped away grinning as the two erupted in rambunctious laughter when Henny raised her offensive hand mischievously at a bewildered man leaving the infirmary. She almost bumped into Olivier, one of the Head Physician's apprentices.
"I came to see if you needed any help, but it seems you have things under control," he complimented her. "So are you here to get an early start because of the upcoming changes to the dispensary?" he wondered.
Ava froze halfway to taking her seat at the admitting desk.
"What changes?" she asked.
Olivier seemed genuinely flustered.
"I thought…For sure…Didn't Adan tell you already?" he babbled.
"Tell me what?" she implored, her heart sinking.