Day 069: And You'll Have Fun, Damn It
Summary: Luther will not allow Galle to avoid the celebration. Wren gets the wrong(?) idea.
Date: 6 August 2016
Related: Happens at the start of Dragonslayer Party.
Galle Luther Wren 

Healing House, Tondc

The healing house of Tondc exists in a low structure with a rooftop balcony that had once been a walk-out basement of some old Earth building. It is accessed through a series of stairs down, and through a very wide door that might have, at one time, been made of sliding glass. Instead, is a pair of rolling doors that tuck alongside the inner wall, and are often left open to keep the room ventilated. Lights burn in this room throughout the day and night, providing a warm and comfortable glow. The high, narrow windows offer some light during the day, but are more there to be open to keep the air moving.

The room is well-organized, and divided with movable metal and wood walls into smaller spaces where needed. There is a large section of the room dedicated to sickbeds, where healers can easily circulate and tend to the ill and wounded. Other smaller rooms are meant for quarantine, or quieter places for the grievously injured or ill. At the back of the room, kept behind another series of dividers, is the healer stores of herbs and poultices, as well as bandaging and other tools.

69 Days After Landing

Outside the quiet solace of the Healing House, the celebration is in full swing. Noise filters down the steps and into the low building, but by the time it gets down the stairs, it is nothing more than a dim din. Galle is — as predicted — not partaking in the festivities and instead seeing to a new batch of tinctures. The licorice flowers are in bloom at her elbow, but she is working with the star-shaped pods, cracking them open and placing the broken spice into a mortar so it can be ground coarsely before being added to the grain alcohol to steep. Her hands are stained a deep chestnut from her work, and they smell of anise and cinnamon.

Her gown is also stained, some new and some old. Her hair is drawn into a loose braid that allows soft forelocks to fall across her cheek and jaw only to be hastily tucked back behind her ear when they become troublesome. She is humming something softly under her breath as she words, murmuring words now and then.

It only took Luther two drinks to decide that this was a good idea. Not much social lubrication at all in the grand scheme of things. He gallumphs happily down the stairs and peeks into the Healing House. Yup, just as he thought. Stepping into the doorway, he catches the top of the door frame with both hands, hanging into the room, "So. You really need… uh…" he sniffs, "anise… right now? Big run on it? People clamoring for it?" And he looks around the hall, to the relatively few people remaining inside. After all… there's a celebration in full swing just outside, and most of the patients can at least be carried up the steps to enjoy it.

Galle is about to turn around and chide whoever is thumping down her stairs like a damn toddler, but when she does pivot on her heel to face Luther, she just scowls slightly. "We are low on anise tincture… which means that if someone comes in with a knife in his hand because he thought doing knife tricks while drunk was a good idea, I cannot sterilize my hands." She turns back to her work, taking the heavy pestle to the broken anise so she can further grind it coarse and release its oils. Crushed oregano is already in the alcohol, waiting the anise addition.

Wren today is playing the role of peanut gallery. It's not like he can do much of anything else. He would've tried snaking out of the place to actually go enjoy himself, but it's not like Galle would kill him on the spot for it.

Luther looses the door frame, sweeping forward into the room, with just a little limp, "Yeah?" He comes over toward Galle's little table, peering over her shoulder at the work, "And that means that you're going to be hiding in here, working toward a 'what-if' instead of celebrating the fact that the Mountain's never going to take another one of our people? That you're never going to have to work on acid fog burns again?" The big man shakes his head slowly, "Nope. Not going to happen. Hurry up with that, because if you're not on your way out to the celebration in two minutes, I'm going to put you over my shoulder and carry you out there."

Galle does not take his threat seriously, snorting sharply. "You wouldn't dare," she says in a casual note. She continues working the anise, and then dumps the contents into the jug of alcohol. She grabs the next set of crushed pods to continue her work. She glances over toward Wren, nodding slightly, and then back to Luther. "I have patients." Which is a vast overstatement, as most are sleeping, already tended to, or just plain absent. She starts to grind up the next pods. "Just because I am not out there celebrating does not mean I am not thankful." But, Galle hasn't celebrated in three long years. While the parties celebrated the end of the Ice Wars, Galle was in mourning.

"Don't stay on my account, Galle. We all shouldn't be cooped up in here." Wren still looks like hell, but at least he has his energy back. "Hey, Luther is more than welcome to throw me over his shoulder. I could use a couple drinks." Beat. "Or twenty."

Luther just smiles when Galle challenges him. Oh, he wouldn't dare, wouldn't he? Looking over to Wren, he makes a snap judgment, "He'll be fine." And then he gestures to Wren at the man's words, "See? In fact, I bet some alcohol would do his recover good." It probably wouldn't, but it might do Wren good. And then he looks back to Galle, and his smile extends more broadly again as he leans first in one direction and then the other, stretching out his hips, "One minute. Better finish up quick."

Galle again does not look too concerned about his show of flexing and stretching. She dumps the next bowlful of anise into the alcohol. Her gaze cuts to Wren, and she snorts slightly. "You can go, Wren… but no dancing, no drinking, and no fighting… I've already told Silver that you are her responsibility." Then she looks back over to Luther. "Don't you have unsuspecting Seconds to flirt with? Why do you want an old soul like me there? I'm dour and surly. You won't have a lick of fun with me around."

"No drinking, dancing, or fighting…" Wren considers. "So…pretty much everything that makes feasts fun." Because that is why anyone goes to celebrations. But knowing who Galle is, he holds up a hand. "Not that I'm not grateful!" he adds maybe a little too quickly. He stifles a chuckle, sitting up a bit. "Because Luther likes a challenge, I would wager."

"Unsuspecting Seconds?" Luther scoffs, offended — or at least pretending to be. "I'll have you know that the last time I flirted with a Second was…" and there he's thinking for a long moment, "Eight years ago, I think." Which means he was still at least eight years older than them most likely. Wren gets another scoff, "There's still the food. And watching the pretty ladies twirl by. And watching the Maunheda die." All cheerful things, at least as far as Luther is concerned. "Oh. And we're well past two minutes." Twenty or thirty seconds past. He reaches out for Galle's right shoulder with his left hand, looking to turn her around, away from the table, so that she is facing him… or rather, facing his shoulder and back, as he crouches down, looking to hoist her up onto his shoulder and then rise again.

"Yes… and so you were about two years younger than them maturity wise," Galle retorts as she continues to work. She glances over toward Wren, eyes narrowing slightly until he quickly adds that he is grateful. She is about to stir up the concoction when she is twirled around and quickly hoisted off her feet and onto a broad shoulder. She fights — but not nearly as much as she could or should. She objects soundly with words though. "Luther kom Trikru! What are you doing!" As if he hadn't warned her. "Ugh, I am not some wet hen that you can haul around!" She gives his kidney's a sound thump with the heel of her hand.

Wren barks out a laugh. "You two have fun now. Don't get into too much trouble. And don't bruise the insides of her thighs too much, Luther. We kinda need her in all of one piece."

"Keeping my promise." Luther grunts as she hits his back, "Ow… damn it. Then stop acting like a wet hen. And if I'm pissing blood by this evening, you're taking care of m — " And then Wren speaks up, and Luther stops two steps toward the door, his eyes widening in shock as he whips his head toward the other Warrior, "Ashes! No. It's not like that." He actually sounds a little offended. Like being the widow of an old friend is some sort of inviolate no-sex-zone thing for ever and ever amen.

Galle looks up sharply at Wren, and she growls at him. "I will make your healing the most painful experience you have ever endured, Wren kom Trikru!" Her cheeks are flushed, though whether it is from the fact she is being shouldered off by Luther or with an embarrassed flush is anyone's guess. Then she scowls at Luther, offended herself… but for entirely different reasons. "It isn't? Why? Am I not attractive enough for you, Luther kom Trikru? I am not all sand and teeth between my legs!" Nope, no one is winning in this scene.

Wren is dying of laughter. "Oh…ow, my face hurts." Because while Silver did a good stitching job on that long jagged nasty gash that runs down the side of his face, it's still not great if he moves his skin too much. He waves a hand. "I'll suffer for my impudence later, I'm sure. But for now? Worth every bit. Get going, both of you."

Luther's head whips right back toward Galle at her words… well… toward her rear, since that's what he can see with her over his shoulder. "Because that's not what friends do." Confused, exasperated Luther is confused and exasperated, and not making much sense, "You're a very beautiful woman, Galle kom Trikru, and I think that you just put me off sex forever." Or at least five minutes. "Sand and teeth." He shudders, then starts walking back toward the door. Maybe it's because Wren told him to. Maybe it's because he just wants to get back to the party. Maybe it's because he wants to throw Galle into some bushes and bruise her thighs. Maybe it's because he's rethinking the wisdom of this idea entirely, and just wants to get it over with.

Galle continues to scowl at the laughing Wren as Luther hauls her off. She has accepted her fate, but she is going to certainly let everyone know how angry she is at being hauled around like a rag doll. She does look at Luther when he offers her compliments, but the follow-up causes her to scowl again. "Serves you right," she hisses. When he starts up the stairs she ducks her head low against his back to avoid possible injuries. She is murmuring objections the entire way.

Wren hauls himself up to his feet for the first time in a week. "No drinking, fighting, or dancing she says." he grunts once they're gong, rubbing the back of his neck. "Indeed. We'll see just how long that lasts." Though, Galle never said anything about spending time with Silver. Loopholes! They're pretty great.

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