#yohri

With four out of five of the ruffians tended to, and the fifth sent home with an explanation that birthmarks weren't contagious, Yohri set about to tending to the apprentice-- after locking the door, of course.

The young Keeper woman was desperately trying to appear as if she wasn't still crying. Only the slightest sound of her sniffles gave it away, and even then it was followed by the quiet grumbling of stupid dust. Suppressing yet another sigh, he crossed the small space between infirmary and supply room to retrieve a clean cloth, then returned to the bed she was sitting upon to proffer it to her.

"Thank you, Yohri, sir." She mumbled, slowly accepting the makeshift handkerchief and dabbing at her nose.

Ruhna was a bit of an oddity, if only because had Yohri been instructed to pick the person who appeared the least likely to pursue a career in healing arts, he would have picked her.  Short, blonde, and seemingly intent on proving every preconceived notion that her hair color implied. At least her clumsiness and self-described "ditziness" seemed to be more of a product of naivete and not of a poor quality of mind. The girl was sharp, of that he was sure, but much like the ruffian who had briefly taken her hostage, she had a tendency to wield her mind in a rather haphazard manner. 

This seemed to be the reason the free clinic had taken her in, though Yohri wasn't quite sure the decision was made voluntarily. The chief medic didn't offer much explanation when pressed on the subject, other than "No one else will teach her." When Yohri came to the clinic, however, it seemed that no one soon became him, the poor girl being foisted upon him without hesitation. At least she was eager to learn.

"No need to sir me when the clinic is closed." The veteran medic replied, taking a seat across from her on the opposite bed. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her short bob swaying back and forth in an almost comical fashion. He wasn't about to take her word for it, though. "Tilt your head upwards, so I can see your neck."

Ruhna did, though she opened her mouth to complain. "He didn't stick me at all." That appeared to be true. "How about your shoulder? He seemed to have quite the grip on you."

She pursed her lips. After a moment of deep thoughts, she tugged at the collar of her blouse. When it proved too stiff to reveal her shoulder, the blonde tried rolling up her sleeves-- and when that failed, she looked back up at the male Keeper, color blooming on her cheeks.

He raised his hands to concede defeat. "I'll let you check it yourself, then. If you're bruised, though, you have to promise me you'll let me heal them."

Ruhna considered that offer. "You need to see it to heal it, right?"

"It would make it easier, yes."

She frowned, falling silent as her brilliant mind went to work upon the most inconsequential of decisions. It was endearing, honestly; though the chief medic might grouse about her overthinking, Yohri saw a bit of himself in the younger woman. He couldn't blame her for worrying. After all, he was a Keeper man of age, and though they both considered themselves medical professionals, they knew each other far to personally to be able to look at one another naked and not feel something other than scientific interest.

Eventually, she came to her decision. "If I'm bruised, and you heal it, then I get to take you out to dinner."

The logic was impossible to follow. Before he could bite his tongue, he was asking "Why?"

Ruhna looked up sharply, a strange determination in her too-blue eyes. "My mother told me to always treat a man to dinner if he was to see you disrobe."

Yohri stared. Then, he burst out laughing.

"What?!" The blonde fumed. "I'm serious!"

That only made it funnier. Once he'd had his share of laughter, and Ruhna's all-too-weak glares, Yohri set a patronizing hand atop her head and smiled.

"You say that every time." He sighed. Doro was 'the pretty one' in the family, mostly due to her hour of 'prep' in the morning. Yohri's habit of waking before sundown had started so he could get in and out of the bathroom before she inevitably monopolized it with her 30 different creams and oils. Her beauty earned her the attention of her fellow Maelstrom officers, but her clumsiness on the job had never earned her any promotions.

"Why ain't'cha bringin' home a lass with ye, aye?" Yuhme, second-youngest, and her bright blue hair, popped into view. Apparently she was still dying it, even though she'd gotten her delinquent act together. Her many boyfriends seemed to find it attractive enough. "Ay'd be thinkin' the girls'd be all o'er ya, giv'n yer a doctor!"

"Or boys." Wixeh, the youngest and least annoying sister, chimed in from her seat at the table peeling potatoes. Yohri shot her a warning look. As she was the only sister willing to have serious conversations with him all the time, she'd become his confidante and knew too much about him for her own good. Luckily for him, she was so annoyed by their older sisters that she wouldn't dare tell them. At least, he hoped so.

"Oh, he's gotta have two or three good lookin' chicks hangin' off him." Mohba tightened her grip on his neck.

"Ow." He groaned.

Rehna, the last sister to show her face and the second-oldest, finally peeked her head around the corner from the kitchen. "Hey, leave a bit 'o noogie space for me!" And she came bounding over, golden curls flouncing on her shoulders, to deliver a much harder, much more painful noogie that twisted his straight face into a grimace. "There we go. Where's th' girlfriend, smartass?"

"Where's yours?" He grumbled. The second noogie was just as painful as he expected. Rehna was still sore about her breakup, a dashing pirate who'd left her high and dry after a week of passion. The rest of the family had agreed it was for the best, but his sister continued to mope about it even six moons later.

"He's such a little brat!" Mohba reached under her headlocking arm to tickle his neck. His squirming wasn't enough to break out of her grip. The two older girls chuckled to one another and continued their merciless teasing and tickling.

"He's gotta point, though, sis." Yuhme grinned, poking Rehna in the hip. "Can' exac'ly go botherin' him when ya ain't bringin' a guy home yerself!"

Yuhme's teasing was finally what sprung him free of Mohba's death grip. "Oi, and where's yours, 'en?"

"Both of 'em are back on th' ship, waitin' for work ta star' toni'.”

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Her grin spread from blue ear to ear. "Bet non'a yer underlin's are makin' passes atcha either. Prolly too scared 'a the lieutenant." The punky Miqo'te dashed out of the room before either of the two eldest could get their hands on her. They quickly followed after, shouting various swears and slurs for the whole neighborhood to hear. Sighing, Doro brushed her perfectly-styled red hair over her shoulder and patted Yohri's head.

"I'll go make sure they don't kill each other. Go say hi to mom." With that, she followed after the others.

The doctor took a moment to take in the silence and fix the strands of hair that had come loose with all their roughhousing. Wixeh continued to peel potatoes quietly.

"Is Mom in the kitchen?" She nodded, so he headed around the corner, towards a dim light and the smell of home cooking.

Yohri found Nehsa hunched over a huge pot, staring intently into the vat of stew.  Though she had aged, her shrinking frame and graying hair did nothing to dull the sharp look in her eyes.

"Mother."

Nehsa turned her head towards him, a small smile spreading across her lips. "Nehsa'to. I figured that commotion was yer arrival."

The doctor chuckled and pulled her into a one-armed embrace. The tips of her ears barely grazed his collar. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Oh, yer not late, the girls were just early. Mohba and Doro came straight from Maelstrom trainin', and Rehna and Yuhme were doin' errands together in the early evenin' and finished earlier than they expected." The matriarch placed a lid on the pot and her hands on her hips. "That's got to simmer fer half a bell, so come sit out in the livin' room with me. Tell me about this new job a yers while your annoyin' sisters are out in the streets."

Yohri might have always dreaded going to the weekly dinners, but he always enjoyed them in the end. Nothing could beat his mother's cooking, and his sisters usually got less annoying as the night went on. Whether that was because they were truly being nicer or he was just getting used to it, he didn't know, but it got better all the same.

"We got a job doin' some airship loadin' and guardin'. Supposed ta be goin' ta Ishgard." "Yeah, and goo' money, too! Though I ain't seein' any bad guys yet." "I'd rather you didn't, Yuhme." "Hey, bad guys're the whole reason you got any work, Wixeh." "I'd rather I didn't see any of them, either." "Oh, we'll toughen ya up soon enough! Ya should come train with the Maelstrom boys and girls!" "I don't plan on going into the service, sister."

Fortunately, every sister got their share of teasing or punishment, leaving Yohri to enjoy his food in peace.

"Mohba, yer thirty-three and ya still don't got kids yet. Do I gotta go poke some holes in yer--" "I'll poke some feckin' holes in you! An' I got plenny o kids to take care 'a in my unit!" "Ya better be careful, or Yohri's gonna end up breedin' before you." "Doubtful."

The conversation wasn't always light and teasing, though that often was the case. Weekly dinner was a chance to be around family, talk with them, heal with them. Nothing is more important than family. So Yohri women had said for generations.

"I think one of the men at Summerford tried to hurt himself the other day.""How do I tell this guy 'm interested but don' wan' anythin' serious?""I'm thinkin' of quittin' the service altogether."

As usual, Yohri had no drama, no stories, nothing interesting that could compete with the crazy situations his sisters found themselves in, and medical war stories had no place at the dinner table. So he sat, nodded, offered advice when he could, but more often than not simply took in what was happening, the same as his mother so often did.

But the serious talk never lasted long. Things found a way back to him, and unfortunately, his sisters would find a suspicious book in his bag soon after the washing up was over. But Yohri didn't have to worry about that now. No matter what happened, family was family, and he wouldn't leave them for the world.