broken bones lesson — move keep walkin'

[Kian.]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt;"]KIAN Ó FAOLÁIN — sing me a symphony, one for the lost and in-between
No use in having the knowledge and not sharing it, not when they needed the healers.  The fae had ever heard his brother volunteering some of his own expertise — however odd that concept was.  Kian knew better than to sit like a bump on the log and not at least share some of his advice and give this whole thing a shot.  He had never truly cared what his role was among peers, so long as he was helpful.  Before, he'd been a captain and a prince — still a prince — before that.

"Come 'ere for a lesson on handling broken bones!" The accented faerie smiled warmly as he decided to bring his lesson to a start.  Numerous herbs sat beside him, neatly organized with great, meticulous care, including broom, bindweed, rush, comfrey root, and stinging nettle.  A few bandages were assembled as well, along with some carefully chosen sticks.  A few feet away, he'd assembled some practice dummies, shaped like various animals, hopeful that after the initial lesson, he could get everyone some more paws-on practice.

[Masie]

She had been playing around with the picture book that her father gave her, looking through the images depicting various scenarios again. Kian had set up some things that looked familiar to a few pages of the picture book she held against her side with one of her small arms, partly obscured by her fluff. Masie had been at the poison lesson but the raptor still learning exactly what each word meant had not gleamed much information from it. Amber optics looked forward as she placed her book down, using her feet to help turn to the page she was reminded of from looking at this. Flickering her gaze back and forth? Masie realized that some of the plants he had laid out, the bandages and sticks were indeed the same ones as those depicted on the page of her book. Perhaps by listening to his noise, she would learn more about what was presented by the images. Most could clearly see it was a picture guide on how to set broken bones and bind the limb, even the raptor could see that, her issue was that she hadn't associated it outside of the book yet. "What?" she sniffed the dummies, being a raptor she hadn't really been introduced to 'dolls' considering her sort of play was much more mobile.

[Keona.]

[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: palatino; font-size: 11px;"][align=center]— blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly —

First one, then the other.  Thoughtful crease of brow and light downward tug on her maw, the little fae approached on soft, hesitant paws.  The knowledge her da knew about the medical field no longer surprised her, a fact established some time ago.  Keona inclined her head upwards, ears on a swivel as she tracked his voice.  Familiar position to be sitting by, listening to her da pass on something.  Old days on his ship passing through her mind, curled up at his paws as he taught one of his crew about something, though it oft held more relevance to sailing than healing.

Quietly, she sits back on her haunches, long, thicker tail wrapping neatly over her paws.  Ready to in-take something useful, perhaps, curiosity gleaming in the depths of pale sea-green hues.  Not much for healing, but always one for learning.

✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

[Sympathy]

♛ IT'S A FUNNY THING, IT'S NEVER LONELY. I REALLY CAN'T COMPLAIN BECAUE IT FEELS LIKE HOME TO ME. TELL ME TO QUIT; AND TALKING SHIT ABOUT. I REALLY GOTTA SAY, THIS BOTTOM AIN'T SO BAD. —

It was the call of his uncle that lured the young puppy over to the session, creeping over to stand next to Masie as he eyed the herbs with a questionable glance. "What're the weeds for, Uncle?" he asked, flicking his slightly narrowed golden gaze to the older male. What good are roots and leaves for a broken bone anyway? Leo hadn't any experience with healing or herbs, so this was all new to him. He had the thought to just turn around and go play somewhere else, but he'd set his place here when he opened his mouth so he supposed he was stuck here for the time being, half-heartedly paying attention to the upcoming lesson.

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #be9b7f; font-size: 24px;"]— LEONIDAS Ó FAOLÁIN ♛

#psychosocial.

[georgie]

“[color=white]Broken bones are my least favorite kind.” Georgie wasn’t there, and then she was, in that typical unnerving way of hers. “[color=white]You all break too easily.” She added in a tone that was hard to read. Disappointment? Amusement, maybe? The clouded leopard lumbered close and stuck a paw out to try and bat at all the herbs that had been gathered and set out by Kian, a whimsical and haphazard grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She clearly did not care for the way he had them organized, or else sought to undo his diligent set-up purely for the laughs. “[color=white]If you break your bones do you deserve to have them unbroke, little sir?”

[Kian.]

[align=center][div style="width: 450px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt;"]KIAN Ó FAOLÁIN — sing me a symphony, one for the lost and in-between
So the children answered his call.  The spotted feline rolled his shoulders back, relaxed in this teaching element.  He was not sure how well they'd all hold onto the info, but they might as well.  Childhood was the time he'd seen the most broken bones himself.  "Healing, Leo," he'd reply, eyes twinkling with amusement.  "Don't worry, I'll explain.  They each have different uses."

To Georgie, his smile faltered, replaced with a furrowed brow and frown.  A father and quite used to the antics of those less caring of organization, he seemed little bothered by anything save her words.  "And why not?" He'd inquire, head tilting.  "Especially if one breaks something when defending their crew?" With all this talk of fighting lately, he felt now especially, it mattered they knew how to heal such injuries.  "Is it right to let one suffer for something they've done for the good of others?" In accidental cases, such as... Well, during play, like during his own youth, he felt earning the injury itself was a lesson enough.  No need to force the bone to heal without assistance, lest it heal wrongly.

"Besides, if you break something, and it is not set properly, it may do even more damage in the future."

Confidently, he turned back to the rest of the gathered audience, eyes resting fondly on his daughter for a brief second before continuing. "The main point of this lesson is so you know the differences between different breaks, the herbs that help, and how to make splints."

"So that's where we'll start.  There are clean breaks, displaced breaks, open breaks, fractures and cases where there are multiple breaks.  Does anyone want to take a guess at some of the differences between some of them?"

[ikaia]

[align=center]

⚓ IKAIA | current track ♪ | current shape: oncilla | listening. . . |
Perhaps it was a miracle the child had never broken anything.  He did however, remember what it felt like when Keona had broken her ribs.  A rather painful way to discover the link between them.  Eyes bright, the boy joined said friend to listen to her father, eyes round with curiosity.

"Open breaks means that the break has cut through the skin, yeah?" An unpleasant sight, he'd imagine.

[align=center]

( you are the dawn of a new day that's waking, a masterpiece still in the making )

[bubblegum]

[Grey]

He knows very little about these faeries. They're too close-knit and secretive. It annoys him to see them and while it is not necessarily his job to help overlook the sage tryouts, the feline approaches anyway. He huffs a puff of black smoke, looking towards the different herbs that were in front of the male. The lesson was much different to Seamus' who wished to speak about poisons, this one focusing on the art of healing broken bones. In all honesty, he's begun to care less and less about the Necro Mambas division. While he has spent a good amount of time moping about feeling useless because of his lack of medical knowledge, he realises it is simply an area he shouldn't concern himself over. Instead of trying to be a jack-of-all-trades, he should at least master what he knows already. Those would be blacksmithing, battle, hunting. He could very easily turn his attention back to his usual business, tear his eyes away from Kian and enter the depths of the rainforest for his training. But no matter how much he tries to convince himself, he finds himself approaching anyway, listening to the exchanges between the faerie and other pirates of The Typhoon.

A guess, huh? The young adult says nothing, raising his head when he listens to Ikaia's response and Goldenluxury's confirmation. Open breaks were for bones that surfaced. He supposes the name made it obvious but Bakugou refuses to hypothesise and join in. It felt too childish to recite what he knew and what he didn't know, as if he were setting himself up for failure or embarrassment.

[Keona.]

[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: palatino; font-size: 11px;"][align=center]— blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly —

The tiny fae remembers with a wince how broken bones felt.  Specifically, broken ribs.  As such, she shuffles her paws, ears flicking.  Lightly, her tongue presses against the roof of her mouth, words in mind.  Wary, silence is maintained.  More classifications than she thought originally.  Her head swivels lightly, following her friend's voice, pale hues blinking.  Makes sense.

"… A fracture is an... Incomplete break.  The bone isn't broken entirely." A little more certainty, though the striker truly felt doubtful.  Still, hope gleamed within, that she had gotten something right.

✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.