This could have gone better.

[badinlatin]

[OOM: Earlier.]

Fucshia turns into deep reds and the frenetic movement of people, when Mal Reynolds, Serenity's captain, opens the door and promptly drops on the floor of the entry dais. He has a Milliways Security badge in one hand, but is having problems standing up, what with one hand pressed hard and flat against his ribs.

[ooc: disappearing for a second because my apartment has no milk; if you tag, I will tag back, but it will be post-Nynaeve.]

Comments

[not_only_wisdom]

Well, that certainly doesn't look good.

Nynaeve sets down her teacup with a loud clink, sweeping her skirts out of the way as she stands and glides toward the fallen Mal.

Her usual braid is missing, and her hair, all the singed bits trimmed off long ago, is pinned up rather neatly.

Not that that's relevant.

"Light, what have you done to yourself?"

[badinlatin]

Mal's made it to both knees, trying to convince himself that standing up on two feet is all for the better.

"Took a job."

Truth, for all that it leaves out the details.

"Can you help me -- Ungh. Move?"

[not_only_wisdom]

"I can do more than that if you'll sit back down for a minute."

Honestly.

"I'm Nynaeve Sedai."

She is also now glowing like a tiny sun, as it happens.

Saidar is good for that.

[badinlatin]

Sedai.

At least it's not Moiraine --

It's less of a sitting down and more of a sideways thump, but Mal is sometimes easily persuaded.

"Wèi?"

[not_only_wisdom]

The narration only laughs.

"I have no idea what that means, but I can Heal you, if you'll let me."

Asking just wastes time, but he's definitely not dying.

Yet.

So there's that.

[badinlatin]

Please?





...Mal forgets to say it out loud, so it looks like Mal is just staring at the woman. That might be an answer on its own.

[not_only_wisdom]

She looks down her nose at him (by dint of being the one standing), sniffs, then crouches down and takes his face between her hands.

Delving follows, a quick and oft-practiced weave.

"Men. Always poking bloody holes in each other. Light take you all."

Someone might be sick of violence. Ah well.

A weave for Healing -- all five powers, colored strands of light flinging themselves into a complex pattern almost faster than the eye can track -- is formed next, sinking into Mal's skin with a burning rush.

Nynaeve is good at what she does. No one alive is better, or (except Damer Flinn), even comes close.

"There."

She drops one hand from his face to his shoulder, to help brace him up.

"Don't fall over, now."

He'll be less tired than after one of Moiraine's healing weaves, but he has still had a very busy day.

[badinlatin]

Mal does wobble, clenching his hands into Nynaeve's forearms for a moment before stabilizing.

Moiraine had been all water and the rush of a wave; Nynaeve is the same, but with heat. Two different styles of the same power.

"Wo de ma. Thank you, truly."

[not_only_wisdom]

"Try not to need it again, though I don't know why I bother saying it."

No one ever listens.

Sometimes she doesn't even listen to herself.

"Do you plan on going back to your job after this?"

[badinlatin]

"No. The job's done."

Not to say that it finished well, but it's definitely done for Mal.

"I'll bide here some. Try to eat something that resembles food."

[not_only_wisdom]

Nynaeve glares at him.

"You'll do more than try. There's a tea I want you to make up, too. To help you sleep."

If it tastes foul, so much the better.

[badinlatin]

"...Kay."

She's grumpy.

"Do I ask for it here? What's in it?"

[not_only_wisdom]

"Nothing that will mean much to you. Different worlds have different herbs. But I can make you a list, if you like."

She sniffs again, letting go of him and standing back.

"I find it best to keep my satchel with me, even here."

Maybe especially here.

[badinlatin]

Mal takes a step forward when Nynaeve moves back, curious of the sack and its contents.

"Don't want to put you out. You already took care o' my scratches..."

And also the tea sounds like it might be gross.

[not_only_wisdom]

"Scratches."

Nynaeve snorts.

"For that, you'll drink two cups of tea."

She's kidding.

Probably.

"Here. It's all easy enough to collect for me, at home. Even these days."

[badinlatin]

Mal looks down at the collection of dead plantstuff in his hands, looking back up at Nynaeve and thinks to go for a joke.

"Sure none o' this all is smoke-able?"

:D?

[not_only_wisdom]

Nynaeve pulls in every iota of patience she can muster.

"You could try," she says, each word distinct and clear.

And annoyed.

"But I wouldn't recommend it."

[badinlatin]

"Had to ask."

Not really. But it made him feel better for a moment.

"Xiexie. I'll do it. The tea, and the food. Um...not in that order?"

[not_only_wisdom]

"No, not in that order."

Or he will regret so much.

(Nynaeve won't, but.)

"Though I would like to know, what's your name?"

[badinlatin]

"Mal Reynolds."

He did think about not giving her his real name. His mother is the gorram barman here, and he is not anonymous at the end of the 'verse.

But how many folk here wear brown leather coats and speak Chinese?

"Pleasure."

[not_only_wisdom]

"Of course it is."

Because she healed him.

Obviously.

"You are planning on eating now, yes?"

Speaking of mothers, mother-hens, and other obvious things.

[badinlatin]

"Shi a, I was goin' to find somethin' now.

"Or do you not believe me?"

[not_only_wisdom]

She smooths down her skirts with one hand, not least since she no longer has a braid to tug.

"Getting yourself injured isn't what most people would call responsible behavior."

She is just saying.

[badinlatin]

That just gets a one-shoulder shrug in reply.

"I'm a thief, miss. Responsibility is relative."

[not_only_wisdom]

"Ma'am. If you must insist on that form of address."

She's married, dammit. And older than she looks.

"And I don't think responsibility for your own life is relative."

Men.

Honestly.

[badinlatin]

"No, ma'am. It shouldn't be."

The tea ingredients get lightly tucked into Mal's left hand coat pocket, and he lacks an eloquent segue - what do you say to a woman who just Healed you and poked at your sore bits without knowing it?

[not_only_wisdom]

"See that you keep thinking that way."

It would really be nice if everyone did.

'Nice'.

[badinlatin]

"I'm...goin' to go do what asked, then."

And maybe retreat slightly from the people watching around them.

"Is there anythin' I can do for you, now? As a thanks."

[not_only_wisdom]

"Try not to get killed."

Her face settles into uncompromising lines. If a body really wanted to believe it, she might almost look serene.

(Or not.)

"There's still no Healing death, that I know of."

[badinlatin]

Or not.

"I'll take it under advisement. Ma'am."

Later, if Nynaeve notices such things, she'll notice a credit on her tab of crisp Ariel oolong tea.

(It tastes so much better than the gou pi he drank.)