You Never Know [5/3, Morning, Owain/Elysia, CLOSED]

[Elysia de Valle]

Elysia strolled along the edge of the tournament, having wondered off from her sisters. It was nearing the end of the joust, and so she knew she could just meet up with them again at the archery. She loved her sisters dearly, but sometimes the chitter chatter was too overwhelming. Once, she had loved that, but now Elysia yearned for more quiet times where she could relax and focus on her own thoughts.

Walking by the medical tent, Elysia stared off into it, curious eyes prying. Jousting was a nasty sport, and she was glad that they had no family members that participated. Just past the tent, she was still not paying attention and her foot came upon a rock, hitting it so that she tripped. Tumbling, Elysia fell rather clumsily, hitting her leg hard onto the ground. Wincing, she felt a sharp below her left her knee. Steadying herself, she switched positions on her bottom, and watched as the blood soaked through her gown. She had managed to cut herself on another rock or something, it seemed. It hurt enough that she didn’t want to get up, so she didn’t, opting to sit down for a moment instead.

Looking off to the side, Elysia seemed to see a man approach out of the corner of her eye.

[Owain Penderyn]

"M'lady, please don't be afraid, it seems you've cut yourself quite badly, but I am a Physician." Owain consulted, coming quickly to gently take her shoulder from the left. The best damned physician in the Circle of the World, mostly employed in idiocy.. He'd been treating yet another Prothero retainer, who'd taken a thick splinter to the shoulder, between his pauldron and gorget. The man had been lucky; unlucky in that he was mentally impaired enough to actually participate in glorified idiocy. Oh, sing! Oh sing, cheer and dance for the crowned idiots of the martial realm, and let all of Forsilvra sing as they beat each other to death. Meanwhile, people like Physician Penderyn would patch them up with a bored expression, and hope that the next time was a tad more fatal - yes, Owain occasionally wished these idiots would simply die so he could pronounce their doom and go back to the tavern.

It was alittle refreshing to actually treat someone who was laid up not by foolish showboating, but by simple accident.

The commoner's shining white robe marked him out, as did his thin face and eyes older than perhaps preferable. Blood was leaking quite significantly from the wound and over the dress, and etiquette was dismissed as the Doctor produced a length of bandage and commanded "Lift your dress."