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The young cether smiled and dipped his head bowing to the elder monk. Be it his cheerful demenour, or not paying full attention to the monk, but Ronan was not put off by the scowls. It was probably some nervous tick the older man had, Ronan had heard when humans got older they got more 'ticks'. He hopped up into the seat of the desk and went to work inspecting the contents of the desk. OOooo!! a journal, and extra parchment and a quill! He thought to himself, already diping his quill tip into the ink. He was writing his name on a peice of parchment as he realized the SunnFather had stopped talking, and was busy writting on the board.
Ronan opened the journal and began to write, a skill he had learned in Schola as a young child. He was proud of his penmanship, which was large and flowing and quick. He soon had all the writing that SunnFather had written copied into his new journal, and was adding a few flourishes. Soon the page had simple vine work up the edge of the paper. Feeling the eyes of the SunnFather on him he stopped and placed his quill into the pot.
'I am sorry SunnFather Ziasla, what was that...' He looked up at his elder with his large gray eyes, but just as he began to repeat himself Ronan spoke again. He relized that he did hear what he said, 'Oh yes, let us start. Will these two bags have...' But the man had already turned to write once more on the board.
He then quickly copied the script of Ziasla, and was once more looking over the edge of his desk to peer into the bags. When the SunnFather spoke once more asking if the cether had any questions, Ronan sat back into his seat. Yes, yes I have questions. What were in those two bags, he thought.
'Yes, uhm how do you start stopped breathing... and treat for shock, ohh yea what is shock. I mean stopping blood I can see, and treating wounds yes... but if I am not breathing... well I dont know how to start again.' Though the teacher was most certainly going to cover all he asked, and more, Ronan was excited to fill his head full of knowledge.
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