She sat in silence for a good while, her ears swivelling every which way any time someone had something to tell her. The little team was a mixed bunch, but they were at least open with her to some capacity. The Ibex was grateful that they were willing to accept her help. She couldn’t count the number of stubborn soldiers that she’d met who would refuse healing. Their conditions would worsen to the point of being unbearable, and then once they were bedridden had the absolute gall to ask how such a thing could even happen. 

Telling them to pull their heads out of their asses wasn’t much of a prescription, but that didn’t stop Vonys from applying it liberally.

‘As long as I don’t have to go hounding them about it.’ She thought before letting her gaze slide over to rest on Rishun, the other woman’s excited manner of speech and gesticulations drawing her notice.

The little Otter was practically vibrating out of her seat with excitement. Some team, were clearly more prone to talk than others but Vonys didn’t mind and in fact welcomed it. It did sometimes get awkward tending to someone’s wounds in dead silence, though she’d long since come to understand that most people had no desire to talk about anything as they were poked and prodded. On occasion Vonys would have to urge the more seriously injured to talk, lest they slip into unconsciousness at an inopportune time but she didn’t foresee that problem with Rishun at least.

The smaller woman’s manner of speech was...interesting. Peppered liberally with what Vonys could only presume to be Otter slang and other figures of speech. The Ibex appreciated the ease that Rishun displayed in weaving the lilting speech throughout the conversation. She clearly took some measure of pride in her heritage and would not dial it back for anyone it seemed. A respectable trait.

Admittedly, though she kept it to herself, Vonys found Rishun rather funny to listen to.

‘I wonder if she’ll teach me a few words. It couldn’t hurt.’ The Ibex thought briefly. Sociable as Otters were, they were bound to respond better to someone who had at least a passing knowledge of their language. She hoped that the effort would be appreciated, anyway.

Talk that was once pleasant, if a bit stilted took a brief downturn, however. Words even brief exchanged on the matter of just who and what they might come across out in the field. Vonys held no illusions that anyone they ran into would give themselves over willingly, if at all. And that was without the ever present threat of being killed. There was something particular about mankind that when faced with their own demise, drew out their worst.

Mortality was never a subject easy to broach, and while not a fatalist, Vonys had the particular ‘honor’ of seeing what became of people when death loomed at their door.

She wondered, if only briefly, what those supposed ‘bad people’ would do when they were finally pressed into a corner. Would they fight back? Fueled by a reasoning they hadn’t even begun to fathom, intent to take down as many people as they could? Would they beg and plead for mercy that none of them were authorized to give, or just accept their fate with nary a whimper in protest? None of them could even fathom what it was this ‘Silent Line’ even wanted to begin with. Would dying be an honor to them? A glory reserved only for the best among them? They were the kind of thoughts like to drive a woman mad.

Death was not as dignified as many hoped. It was often very painful and very messy. There were many times when Vonys knew full well that she was attempting to piece together a dead body, so fleeting was the time her patients had left. A grim exhaustion would settle over her during those times. There was never any relief to be found at the end of it all, not for her. Merely a distant sense of finality that reminded her of a job done, and the start of another. One death was the same as any other in her book. Men bled, they wept, and they died. One and all.

What distinction could anyone hope to earn from something that came for everyone in the end, Vonys couldn’t say. There was no greater equalizer among men than the cold embrace of the grave.

‘Yeesh, I’m turning into my grandmother over here.’ The woman thought balefully, shaking her head rapidly to clear away the encroaching depression that came with such a way of thinking. She rubbed at her snout, snuffling quietly and tilting an ear, half listening to the Captain’s intent to check on his own GEAR in the Hangar.

‘A good idea.’ She thought, watching Max hustle along behind the other man. Her GEAR would see about as much use as everything in the infirmary, and it was just as valuable if not more so. Being a Combat Medic, Vonys didn’t need all the trappings fitted to her Unit the way another soldier would. Though Search and Rescue work made use of some rather specific loadouts. At the very least it wouldn’t hurt to make sure everything was in its proper place.

The Doe, Leslie seemed to be of the same mindset. Vonys nearly slapped herself for practically ignoring the other woman in favor of pursuing useless musings and offered her a rather stilted response.

“Need me? Well, eventually someone on this ship will get hurt, otherwise there’s no point to me being here, I guess? Not that I WANT any of you to get hurt, mind you. It’s just...It would be boring. Not that you being injured would be entertaining. I’d hate it. A lot.” She coughed loudly into a fist and moved to stand a little too quickly.

‘Smooth. I definitely don’t look like an idiot right now.’ She seethed internally. Vonys drummed up a smile and nodded at Leslie. “But you’re right, we should set up right now. I’ll join you.” Vonys spared Rishun and Fionn a glance. “What about you two? You’ll have to go down there eventually, why not come along?”