Logs:A Date
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| RL Date: 4 May, 2009 |
| Who: Gisele, Madilla, Whitchek, Vaan |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla runs into Whitchek again, as well as Vaan and Gisele. Instead of studying, she gets... a date? |
| Where: Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 8, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Leova/Mentions |
| Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender. Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts. Vaan smiles kindly at both of them " It's ok I understand my family has a different set or morals then me." He looks at Gisele " It's nice to meet you Gisele. I take no offence so there's no need to be sorry." He pulls up a chair and runs his hand's through his hair. " I forgot to introduce myself I'm Vaan." he turns his smile into a grin. There are a number of people in the common room, folks finishing up their daily work and settling in for the evening. Whitchek is one of them, sitting at a table with ink and a pen and a number of sheets of still-entirely-blank paper. Of course, he's not writing at all, just chatting with Vaan, standing nearby, and evidently now the Harper on a nearby couch. "Sorry? Gisele. Nice--yeah," he echoes after Vaan. "Whitchek," he adds. "Guess there's nothing wrong with it. I'm not that interesting." The drop of gray eyes to the paper that lacks ink but was shielded, even if for a moment, then lifts to indicate otherwise: about that 'not that interesting' part. But beyond that flicker of her lashes, Gisele's expression doesn't waver, except to curve that smile to Vaan. "Well met, Vaan. Whitchek. Thank you," she adds, quirking her lips to one side, "For not taking offense." Though unsolicited, she also adds a wry, "I find starting a letter with the name of the person you intend to send it to helps." Madilla, damp haired and clean-clothed, emerges from the dorms with an armful of books and scrolls, and the various implements of study that tend to accompany such things. The young apprentice hesitates, both feet flat on the ground, considering the room, and all the possible destination it offers; ultimately, she aims her path towards the couches instead of the table, shifting past Whitchek's table, the standing Vaan, and then Gisele, to settle herself nearby. Vaan laughs in a friendly way " Yes I belive that would help greatly. So have you see the gold lately I saw her feeding and she's looking pretty heavy with egg's what do you know about it?" he sits there on his chair. He sees the entrance of madilla he looks at her. " Well I guess I get to meet another person." He laughs " Shows how new to the weyr I am that i am still meeting new people just by sitting in the common room." "If only it were that simple," Whitchek laments. "If I call her mother, it sounds smarmy, because she's not my mother. If I call her stepmother, she'll tell my father and my father will be upset. I would write to my father but my father can't actually read, or won't, I don't know which..." And then there's Madilla passing, and Whit is hastily pulling himself out of his chair. "Hello! Do you need help with those? Fancy seeing you... here." It finishes flat, probably due to the realization that seeing other Weyrfolk in the common room isn't really a notable occasion. It's hard for even a harper of Gisele's training and age to hide her amusement at Whitchek's sudden stand and offer of help. It gravitates her attention to Madilla, a quick glance to her shoulder ascertaining knot before she studies the curly brown-haired healer. "And calling her my father's wife is out of the question too I imagine." But the realization that the dry quip of those words might fall on deaf ears turns the harper's attention to Vaan once more. "I haven't," says the eldest (of this grouping at least) woman to the youngest teenager. "Though I imagine," fingers climb and descend as Gisele counts months, "She'll be laying her clutch soon. Are you excited, Vaan?" The amount of attention her arrival results in appears to startle Madilla, whose head shoots up from her books to glance first at Vaan, and then at Whitchek. At least Gisele doesn't /say/ anything. She flushes, faltering, her arms tightening about her load. "Hello?" Beat. "Oh. Hello. Hi, Whitchek. Uh, no, I think I've got them, thanks." Now she looks confused as well as startled, and sinks hastily into her chosen seat with an awkward smile in place. Maybe if she says nothing more, they'll stop being so-- you know. Starey. Vaan smiles " Yes I am it's to be my first hatching and I really want it to be a good experiance for me. If your willing not to tell to many people because I don't and to sound foolish. I am sorta wishing that I get searched that way I can see the look on my father's face when he find's out his son is a dragon rider. You see I'm from crom and my father does not support the weyr he like's the lord holder's opinions. I on the otehr hand belive and support the weyr all the way." He looks at madilla's knot " your a healer Then your just the person I was looking for I wanted to find a Healer to talk about being a healer's aide I have had some training but I don't want to become a full healer." "You're sure?" presses Whitchek, but then she's sitting down so he's able to relax. Slightly. Now that she's seated, he reclaims his own chair, which provides the reminder of the paper and ink, which for some reason he seems in quite a hurry to pretend doesn't exist. But he does, if belatedly, answer Gisele: "That, I think, would be disasterous. I don't think I'd go that far, though, anyway. She's only unbearable some of the time." With the information dump coming her way, Gisele's gray eyes round and a succession of blinks attempts to digest what Vaan says. But in the end, there's warm laughter and the confidential lean forward that promises first in posture and then in her, "It'll be just between you and me," and everyone else within earshot. "It's good for people to have dreams to aspire to." Her harper-trained voice turns just the slightest bit wistful, which in turn has the lithe dancer rising to her feet, abandoning conversation and the much-stared-at Madilla. "If you'll excuse me. It was a pleasure to meet you all." An especial turn of her smile casts to the dragonrider-aspirant. "Good luck with your dreams." "Quite sure," promises Madilla, though not with a brilliant smile for Whitchek, her cheeks still faintly flushed from the attention. Although she flips open the first of her books, scrambling through the pages to find the one she's after, her head tilts slightly to the side to listen to the various conversations. Vaan's comment, however, addressed to her, draws her head back up again properly, and she considers the young man with knitted brows. "Not me, I'm afraid," she tells him, her voice low, but not unfriendly. "I'm just an Apprentice. Madilla. I wouldn't have a clue, but I'm sure one of the Journeymen could assist you." Gisele's departure draws a glance from the girl, and then a hesitant nod, though, of course, it's not as though they've exchanged words. Vaan smiles and waves as Gisele leaves the area. he turns his focus to Madilla " Right my name is Vaan. So do you know someone I could talk to about that then?" He looks around the room and back to Whitchek's blank paper. " I had a idea for what to call her but I forgot it." beat " I got it just call her by her name it's not smarmy and just put in the letter you could not think of a better name under the situation. How does that work?" he grins broadly at the older teen. "A pleasure," Whitchek says to Gisele's back--well, better late than never. As Madilla opens her book, he turns back to his paper, but he keeps casting little glances in her direction. Vaan's suggestion is given due consideration. "I think that'd probably get my a--um, get my family very upset with me. Too familiar. Like if I called my father by his given name? I don't think I'd want to be on this side of the continent when he found out." Madilla is prompt with a, "Nice to meet you, Vaan. Er - well, there's Delifa, but, really, just go into the Infirmary some time and ask? As long as it's not really late at night, there'll probably be a Journeyman around. I really don't know, otherwise." The attention she gives to Vaan stops her from actually noting Whitchek's glances at her, which is probably for the best. Vaan laughs " Your lucky Whitchek my father got mad at me simply because I like the weyr. So I when I was kick out off home I moved here to show him I am firm in my faith in the weyr's." he turns his head to Madilla " Thank's I will some time. So is there a area of healing your looking at or just healing in a whole?" He looks down at the scar on his arm. " So whitchek I think I ran out of idea's for your letter." "Seems," Whitchek says to Vaan, "like kind of a dumb reason to get kicked out of house and home, isn't it?" More side glances. Then he looks back at the paper. Finally dips pen in ink. And then sets the pen aside again. This is a big commitment, writing a letter. "Not that I haven't had my... disagreements, from time to time. But one should be reasonable." Madilla is silent, during the time that Whitchek and Vaan discuss the letter, although, this time, she does glance across at the elder of the two young men - and it's just in time for one of those glances of his. She goes still, her brows raising just slightly, questioningly, as if to say 'can I help you?'. But what she says, instead, is an answer to Vaan, "I'm a Pharmacist, although there's less use for us in the Weyr, so I tend to do more general healing. Particularly with the children; I like working with children." So much for getting any studying done. Vaan smiles " Children? that interesting wish we had someone like you when I was a child and got this bite then I might not have a scar." he rolls up his sleeves to show the bite scar on his forearm. He turns his head to Whitchek " Yes I still care for him because he's my fatehr but he's so unreasionable he won't listen to anyone but himself. So there's no use trying to send him a letter to reconsile at least I am makeing friend's here." Oh, there. Whitchek very deliberately smiles at Madilla when she finally looks at him, then seems to lose all idea of what else to do besides that, so he looks away himself. "It's very respectable," he still manages to comment, "working with children. Very admirable." He has a polite look at the scar--not too close, but with just that little bit of curiosity. "Making friends," he agrees, "is a very good thing." Madilla, coloured confused. Not physically, but certainly, there's something about the draw of her lips, not to mention her eyebrows, that indicates that clearly. "Yes," she agrees, of working with children. "It's quite important, but not all healers have the patience. Which," she adds hastily, "is not to say that I'm particularly special. Just... that I like it." She's not quite close enough to get a really good look at the scar, though she does give it a glance, noting, "I'm sorry. Scars can be awful. A friend of mine has a scar on his," she hesitates, flushing. "Er. Has a scar. In an embarrassing place. He's still frightened of llamas, because of it." Vaan smiles at the the two when they both look at the other " I don't mind it now but I use to now I just think it adds charactor and makes a great conversation starter.' He gives a small laugh not because of the scar story but because person has a fear of llamas. " I find it funny I don't fear tunnelsnakes because of the attack just respect them more." he turns and looks at Whitchek " Yes making friends is a very good thing and i plan to make a few friends at the hatching if they can find a nice skin of wine." What Madilla almost says is, in and of itself, enough to set Whitchek's ears aflame, and he coughs a couple times to cover the little "grk" noise made in response. "I can imagine," he says, and then, "No. I can't, and really don't want to, but you know what I mean." He does not volunteer scar-stories of his own, though, even though he's certainly got at least a few. "Children," he says a little firmly, trying to divert the conversation off in another direction. "I'm sure it must be trying. Leova was saying how difficult it could be." Whitchek's reaction draws something similar from Madilla; scarlet cheeked she hastily adds, "Not that I've seen it, of course. But. He told me, once." Honestly! She's even quicker to latch on to the next thread of conversation she can grab for: "I think that's a good idea, Vaan. To respect them. Makes you a little wary, I suppose? I-- children. I suppose? I just like children. Leov--" she trails off, considering that last comment with a frown. "I don't think Leova is particularly fond of children. I'm sure that makes a difference." Safe. No more talk about things a well brought up girl would never think about. "I didn't get that impression, no," Whitchek agrees with Madilla. "She did seem nice enough. Very..." He pauses. Does a small clearing of the throat. "Concerned with your well being. It's good to have friends like that. At any rate. It seems like most of the folks around here are not especially... what you might call family-oriented people. I suppose that's a Weyr thing." Vaan laughs " wow that was a awkward situation. But yes children i don't mind them but some times they can be fussy. I understand them though with all there energy they don't want to sit still. With the right the right people they can get world knowlage and the classroom knowlage because you need to life some things to understand them." he turns and looks at Whitchek " Yea the weyr isn't exactly the greatest place for kids." Madilla, pink pink pink pink pink. "Was she?" Leova. "She's-- she /is/ a good friend. I knew her a little before I was posted here, and she really has been very good to me; it was a hard transition, I suppose." Her nod for the rest of what Whitchek says is enthusiastic. "No, not many of them, I find. All the fostering! And..." Her voice lowers. "Getting rid of pregnancies. I can't-- I don't especially like it." To Vaan, she gives another quick nod: "They can be. But you have to-- work to their level, I suppose. I find that really helps." Vaan stands from his chair " Well I have some things to do and people to talk to so if you don't mind." He gives a wave to the two older teens " Have a good evening you two." The quieter bit makes Whitchek visibly uncomfortable. "Hadn't... exactly thought about that." Little bit of a disgusted look on his face. "I suppose... well, it's obvious, given the circumstances, that it must go on, but still... you're very brave," he says, and that part is heartfelt if nothing else is. Smiling after Vaan gives Madilla a momentary diversion from her conversation with Whitchek, but once he's gone, she has to glance back, and her expression is not terribly happy. "I think it's awful," she admits, more blunt than she has been about other things. "But it's what they do, and I-- it's just the way it is." Perhaps in other circumstances she'd be more pleased by being called brave, but this, clearly, matters a great deal to her. "I'm sorry. Now we're all-- depressing. The weyr really isn't /so/ bad. The people /are/ nice." Whatever he's seen. Of course, for Whitchek, babies are a mystery, and pregnant women even moreso. So he's quite happy to leave the subject behind. "I have certainly met some very nice people," he says, which could pass for agreement. And then, modifying, "Well, and some less so. And some who were..." His hand gesture seems to encompass that huge space of "nice and also not". "How long have you been here, at the Weyr? Do you expect to be posted here long?" Madilla gives several slow nods for Whitchek's remarks on the people he's met, admitting, "There are a few I'm not so fond of, of course, but-- I imagine that happens in many places. There were some at Healer Hall, too, before I came here. But the bulk, at least, seem quite pleasant enough. I've been here two turns, now. I suppose I'll be here until they decide to send me elsewhere. I hope-- I /think/ it'll be at least until I'm a Journeyman, but I don't know." She pushes a smile into place as she speaks, though she still sits quite stiffly, her hands pressed sharply into the surface of the books in her lap. If Whitchek notices her stiffness, it doesn't change his demeanor in the slightest. "And... after that? Where would you choose to go, if you could choose?" He gets up from the table to take a slightly more comfortable chair, although carefully not *right* next to Madilla. Have to give ladies their space. Somewhere along the line, he decided that. "I don't know," admits Madilla, frowning, though she focuses her gaze upon her books rather than Whitchek himself, so at least she's not frowning /at/ him as he comes closer. "I haven't really thought that far. Once upon a time, I thought I'd be going home, eventually, but that's not going to happen, so-- I suppose I'll have to see where they send me. How long are you going to stay here?" Now she looks up, and has to shift her gaze to his new position. And Whitchek is forced to make a similar admission: "Not sure," he says. "A while, I suppose. Nothing particular to go back for, at the moment. You know... sheep. And that's about it. My parents would love to see me back sooner, but I think I just need a little time away. Some space. All those sheep and a big family and things start to seem more crowded there than here." Madilla's nod, this time, is a knowing one. "And it's hard, going home," she notes, not without a rueful note to her quirked lips. "When you've seen different things. Though, I suppose I've been away longer than you; you might not have it so hard. I think it's nice, though, that you get the chance to go and see things, something different, before-- the sheep." Her shoulders, now, begin to settle back into a more relaxed stance, as she adds, "Were you trying to write home? When I came in, I mean." "Left a long time ago, but that wasn't to the Weyr. That was different," says Whit, so it's mostly agreement. "No," then. "I mean... yes. Well, sort of. It hasn't worked out very well so far. They don't understand that part, the wanting to see something different first. I don't think my father ever saw much of anything. But it's my stepmother I have to write to, and that makes it even harder. Don't know why." Madilla ohs, nodding quickly. "Holds - aren't so different from each other. As going from Hold to Weyr, I mean. I imagine they don't change you quite as much, though I suppose I wouldn't really know." Her cheeks puff out with a thoughtfully held breath as she mulls over her answer; what comes out, eventually, is in an empathy-filled voice. "I'm not sure if parents like their children to see more than they have, or want something different. Do you - get along, with your stepmother? Or is it just hard in general? I stopped writing," she admits, then. "They didn't respond. Writing is-- harder. For them. We didn't see much of the Harpers." "My stepmother fancies herself well-bred because she's some sort of twelfth cousin of some Lord or another, so she'll happily write letters to anyone. If my father can read more than his own name, well, I've never seen it. S'pose the rest of us are in between." Whitchek looks at the paper still just sitting over there inoffensively. "I think I'm too close to her oldest. She's got no problem with Karel, who was grown when she came along." Madilla fans her hands out over her books, nodding along; she seems to do that a lot. "So she still thinks of you as a child," she concludes, with a sympathetic expression. "I can understand wanting to be out in the world, then, where people might take you seriously." She glances back down at her books, then up again, and smiles: "You should at least stay until the eggs hatch, that's a good enough excuse. It's supposed to be quite a sight. I missed the last one - exams. It was a shame." There's a little wry smile. "I'm not sure they'd agree that eggs are particularly worthwhile. But... it must be a sight. I'm sure I can come up with some kind of excuse or another. I hope your exams aren't going to take you away this time?" Whitchek makes the inquiry as offhand as he can manage. "/They/ don't have to." Madilla looks as though she'd like to bite back that comment: the disrespect! But after a moment's pause, she continues, suddenly quieter, "I'm sure you will think of something. I'm sure they'll understand eventually. Because they love you." It's simplistic, but she seems genuine in believing this. "No, they shouldn't. It'll be half a turn before my next ones." "Of course they do." Whitchek's tone is mild but not entirely believing. Of course they should. Do they? Possibly another story. "So, if you're going to be here, perhaps we can go together," he offers, suddenly talking just a little too fast. "Wouldn't that be nice?" He manages a shy smile, but it starts wavering almost immediately. Madilla /seems/ to have picked up on that tone, because her gaze narrows slightly, confused and surprised - or perhaps that's just related to what he says next? Her mouth opens, a breath escaping awkwardly. "Um," she begins, biting on her lip. "If you-- like. Okay." Aaaaannnd she's gone pink. Again. All of a sudden, she's on her feet, books in her arms. "I need to go," is what she blurts out, though for a moment, she can't seem to tear her attention away from him; is he completely mad? What's going on? Result! Whitchek has only just gotten to the very beginning stages of pleased beaming when Madilla stands up as if to bolt. "Oh--oh, right," he stumbles, standing himself even though he's got no reason to do it. "I'll see you--around? Later? Are you sure you don't need help carrying all those?" Madness might well be one word for it. At least, he's looking about as baffled as she is. For his troubles, at least he gets a hesitant smile, even if it's obvious Madilla is utterly confused, bewildered, and embarrassed. "Um," she begins again, presumably a default beginning to any uncomfortable sentence. "No, I think I'll be all right. But-- thank you?" That's the right thing to say, isn't it? "I-- sure. I'll see you around." She has time for one more smile, and maybe it's slightly warmer this time, but only slightly, and then she runs. Only, not an outright run. Just a fast walk. Safety! Security! Girls only dorm! |
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