Logs:(Don't) Think With Your Heart
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| RL Date: 8 June, 2011 |
| Who: Madilla, Teris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla seeks out permission for changes in the way the exiles are handled. |
| Where: Teris' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
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| Madilla is twenty-three, a respected Journeyman in her craft, a mother - all in all, a respected adult in her own right. And yet she hesitates at the Weyrleader's Complex, eyeing the entrances to those oh-so-important weyrs with visible nervousness. The weather is too foul for anyone to linger outside for long, though, and so, the healer makes her way up towards Teris' weyr. She /does/ wait for an invitation, though, calling out: "Hello? Teris? Are you in?" "Um," is not a very usual sound coming out of Teris' mouth but it's there as she scoots a chair away from the stone table to get to her feet and seems born from distraction more than anything. "Yes. Come in." There are files and hides and papers on the table and also a bottle of wine and a glass that's half empty. Despite the scarf she unravels from her neck as she steps inside, Madilla's cheeks are pink: from cold? From embarrassment? It's hard to tell, though the smile she aims at Teris is a tentative one. "I'm sorry for the interruption," she says, quickly, twining the scarf around her hands and arms in a purely unconscious gesture. "You must be busy, I'm sure. This won't take long." Teris' cheeks might be a bit flushed, too, but it's certainly cozy enough in the weyr not to be from the cold. It likely has more to do with that wine. The weyrwoman offers Madilla a smile that is not only polite but even possibly fond. That could be from the wine, too, though they /are/ practically family. Sort of. "I could use a break, I think. What is it, Madilla?" "It's work-related, so I'm not really sure if it counts as a break," begins Madilla, her tone tinged with amusement: she's as work-focused as the weyrwoman, after all, in her own way. Having gotten this far, she's relaxed considerably: talking to Teris for official reasons isn't, perhaps, quite as different as talking to her normally, as Madilla might earlier have feared. And Madilla clearly /does/ think of Teris as family. "It's about the exiles. I know you're coordinating things for them. And of course, as healers, we've been seeing to them." Teris gestures at one of several seats at the stone table but seems content to simply lean against the edge of it herself. Perhaps she's been sitting awhile. "Of course. I've heard that some of them are taking ill." That must be a prompt because it's all she says and then her brows lift slightly, expectantly. A chair! That would make things easier. Of course, Madilla has to strip another few bits of clothing off before she can do that: off go her gloves, her coat, her woolly hat. It's cold outside, and distinctly less so in here. All of this gets done hastily; shortly, she's setting herself down in the chair, resting her forearms upon the table and nodding, "Yes - that's the problem. I understand that they need to be kept..." She struggles for a word. "Segregated. But I'd like permission to house the sick ones in the infirmary. I'm worried about it spreading - about them all getting sick." Watching the healer quietly, Teris reaches for her half empty glass and swirls its contents absently while she listens. "Wouldn't that risk spreading whatever they have to the rest of the Weyr? Honestly, I think it would have been better to keep them in the weyrling barracks. Out of the caverns altogether." There's a very small sigh. Madilla's gaze flicks towards the wineglass as Teris swirls it, momentarily distracted by the motion. "There aren't many weyr residents staying in the infirmary at the moment. Perhaps we could put any of them that need to stay in the dragon infirmary, just in the short term? I think... I think it's a standard winter illness that they're getting. But it's one they're not used to, and it's hitting them harder than it would hit the rest of us. They need to be separated - somehow." There's a beat, and then, "Perhaps the weyrling barracks would have been better. But they're so /isolated/, and with the weather..." Her sympathy for the exiles is obvious. It takes a few moments for Teris to think through her thoughts on that, taking a brief sip of wine and then setting the glass aside again. "I suppose that would be acceptable. Just to be safe. If you think they would be better off in the infirmary, then--" A wave of her hand suggests the 'you're the healer' that she doesn't say. "They're going to stretch supplies thin." There's a vague hint of disapproval in those words. "Thank you," says Madilla, with genuine feeling, her expression as bright and grateful as it could possibly be. And as for supplies? "That's something else I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Most of them-- they can't seem to keep down the food we're providing. They're all half starved and used to fish and seaweed and not much else." She's got her scarf twined around her hands again, turning it and rolling it with idle movements as she talks. "I'd like to have their diet changed to something lighter, so that we can gradually get them used to real food." Teris has a small smile for the healer's thanks though she still doesn't seem entirely convinced the infirmary is completely necessary. As for the rest, it doesn't take her long to ask, "What do you suggest we do? Fetch them fish and seaweed? Supplement with flavored water? Surely they'll adjust soon enough. No need for them to be anymore inconvenient than they're already proving to be." Madilla's expression has turned rueful, though she's earnest in her explanation. "No - it's just, well, it's a waste of food, if they're going to vomit it back up all the time. I'd like to try them on simple broths, with some bread. Light things. I don't think it would be too difficult for the kitchens, and it would be much, much better for the exiles." Is that her imploring face? Her eyes narrow somewhat as she studies Madilla. Then her brows furrow and she almost looks insulted. "I don't know why you need my permission to feed them less of what we're already providing them. If you want to feed them bread and water, then by all means, please do. We have plenty of that to spare, at least." She pushes out of her lean against the table and starts walking around it. "Just be... sensible with them, hmm?" Granted Teris' idea of sensible probably doesn't line up perfectly with Madilla's. This time, the pink in Madilla's cheeks is definitely blush-related. "I didn't want to step on your toes," she explains, her gaze following Teris as she walks. "I will, I promise. I know-- I know my job is just to look after their health, but I do worry about them. I won't do anything that will cause problems for anyone, though, I promise." She's terribly earnest. Whether Teris actually believes her or not, it seems as though she really /wants/ to believe what Madilla says. She gives a small nod of her head, then, and pauses near the healer, moving a hand toward her shoulder to give it a small squeeze. "You're good at your job, Madilla. And I trust you. Just remember that you can't always think with your heart." That may not even be /entirely/ related to the exiles, but Teris has moved on. "Is that all?" Madilla seems pleased - and maybe, now, the pink in her cheeks is related to pride rather than embarrassment. Once, she might have been over-eager in her response, but now, she merely nods once. "I'll try," she tells the weyrwoman, in a rueful tone. "I know what I'm like. It's - difficult, sometimes." She seems to have realised, albeit slightly belatedly, that she probably didn't need to respond to that. Hurriedly, she draws herself back to her feet, shaking her head. "That's all. Thank you for your time, Teris. We'll do our best for them - thank you." "I'm sure you will." Teris does sound sure of it, too. "If you need anything else, you're welcome here anytime, Madilla." She continues to make her way back around the table, "Enjoy the rest of your evening." It's polite but sincere. Hopeful, even. It might not be the easiest task, to enjoy oneself in the midst of illness, after all. Putting her outer clothing back on, Madilla gives Teris a rueful smile, only barely hinting at tiredness beneath it. "You, too, Teris. I hope there won't be anything else - but if there is, I will come and see you. Good night." She leaves, looking pleased. |
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