Logs:Advice From The Sleep Deprived
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| RL Date: 24 June, 2014 |
| Who: Evanthe, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Evanthe needs direction. Madilla needs uninterrupted sleep. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Raija/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. The room is quiet and nearly empty, about as still as the living caverns are, at this hour, chaotic. Evanthe is one of the few that have sought quiet refuge here, and she's claimed a bowl of stew from the pot on the heart and now sits curled up in one of the chairs, her food balanced on one knee as she stares contemplatively into the fire. It must be the peace and quiet that has drawn Madilla here, this evening; the healer looks exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes betraying a lack of sleep, and the slow, deliberate pacing of her steps only confirming the impression. She's swearing an all-encompassing apron which, while stain-free, has certainly seen better days. A sharp exhale accompanies her arrival; then, she weaves her way between the chairs in search of stew, which she serves in an absent kind of way. Evanthe is often the oblivious sort, and staring into space as she is would likely not have paid Madilla any mind at all - if the healer had not passed directly in front of her on her way to the stew pot. Ev blinks absently, glances at the woman, then back... and then back again, a faint furrow in her brow. There's a moment of internal debate before she speaks, but in the end she does. "You all right?" Had Madilla even registered Evanthe's presence? It's difficult to tell, given the way she turns, so slowly, giving the younger woman a hesitating glance before pushing her expression into a rueful smile. "Just tired," she assures her, warmly enough. "I promise I've not been operating on anyone, administering fellis, or otherwise taking unseemly risks." Evanthe eyes Madilla for a long moment, as though doubting the veracity of those claims, but in the end nods and bends her head back to her food. A rather inelegant bite, a swipe with her sleeve (so ladylike) at the resultant drip. But she's still watching Madilla, thoughtfully. "If you aren't doing all those fun things, why the..." And she gestures at her face, to illustrate. Tactfully. "I mean, none of my business. Long nights, healering?" Madilla, bringing her own bowl back to a chair just opposite Evanthe's, laughs. She's (very likely) deliberately ignoring the lack of ladylike manners, though her own are perhaps more exaggerated for emphasis - just a little. "My youngest is having nightmares," is her explanation. "It's-- a long story. Complicated. Tonight's night shift certainly won't help matters, of course. Healering is certainly not the ideal career for a good night's sleep. I'm Madilla." "Oh man," Evanthe says, shaking her head. "Had terrible nightmares when I was little." Not that she's so terribly big now, tucked up in a chair too big for her, but nevermind. "And not much to do 'bout it, all the reassuring words in the world only last 'til you're alone in your bed again. How old is she? Five and six was the worst of it. I'm Evanthe," she adds on, with a nod - and she starts to reach a hand out to shake but near loses the bowl balanced on her knee, and is immediately distracted away from the gesture of greeting. Madilla's own hand is halfway extended when Evanthe's get distracted again, and ultimately the healer withdraws hers, content to nod her greeting instead. "It's nice to meet you, Evanthe," she says. "She's not even three, yet. She's... had a lot of trauma, before she joined my family, and now my eldest two have moved elsewhere, and..." Abandoned! "Did you simply grow out of them? Your nightmares." she wonders, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. "I did, eventually," Evanthe confirms, once the stew situation is back under control. "Guess it's just lots of..." She waves her fingers over her scalp, as though that'll help. "You know. Connections and stuff. Growing. But eventually it happened less and less... and then I just didn't think about it anymore." She shrugs, taking a moment for another bite, food nearly gone now. "Makes it tough, though. Havin' real life stuff like that going on. She close with her siblings?" "I don't remember having them, myself," explains the healer, stirring her stew in a distracted kind of way, rather than eating it. "And my elder two didn't, generally. I suspect Raija will be prone to them for turns, though. She's... yes. It took a while for her to bond with them, but she got there. It's so hard to understand, when they're that little." It clearly bothers her, wrinkling her nose, but abruptly her attention focuses in upon Evanthe again. "Not, of course, to dominate the conversation with my own problems. I assure you, I try not to be one of those parents who only talks about her children." Evanthe shakes her head dismissively as the healer offers that last bit, waving away the almost-apology with one hand as she lifts the bowl with her other, drinking the last of her stew and then setting the bowl aside on the table. "People talk about what's important to them." She shrugs again. "I don't mind listening. And kids... I mean, I don't know much, 'side from what I remember about /being/ one. But nothing lasts forever." She settles back in her chair, head tilted thoughtfully. "It's got to be tough, doing the healer thing when you have little ones." That answer makes Madilla smile... and actually, finally, take a bite of her own stew, eating in a way that suggests she's not paying a great deal of attention to the food itself. "It's easier in a Weyr than it would be elsewhere," she explains. "I've always had a lot of help. The hours can be complicated though, certainly, and... late night emergencies can be difficult. It was hardest when they were babies, of course. They... well, as you say: nothing lasts forever. They grow up. Move away. That's hard, too, in a different way." There's a certain satisfaction in Evanthe's expression as she witnesses the other woman take that bite. A sense of accomplishment, making a worn out, stressed out healer eat - even if really she hadn't much to do with it. "Seems like a lot of things are easier in a weyr," she murmurs in reply, absently toying with the ends of her long hair. "Not at all what I thought it was going to be. Mm, so are you on call all the time, then? Just... something happens, you get pulled out of your bed? That's rough. No wonder you're tired. Worst I can complain about is scolding, pruny fingers, and... general ennui," she says, with a quirk of a wry smile, implying humor where... really... it's just honesty. The last comment the healer makes gets a quiet nod. "Guess it would be. My ma isn't having an easy time of it." It's possible that Madilla has noticed Evanthe's satisfaction; she does take another bite, and then another, as if for emphasis. "Not what I expected, either," she allows, after swallowing; smiling, too. "Where did you grow up? I'm not always on call, but I'm the Weyrhealer, so it falls to me more often than not. It's..." She shrugs. She manages. "Is there something you'd rather be doing?" For Evanthe's mother she has obvious sympathy - a rueful smile - but she answers that with nothing more than a simple nod. "Crommish," Evanthe says, with a little wrinkle of the nose that more eloquently says what she thought of it. "You?" She nods thoughtfully to all that about being a healer, particularly the shrug. Sometimes such things say far more than words could. As for her? "I'm..." She hesitates. "I'm working on it." Working on figuring it out, that is, and as she says it there go her eyes back to the fire, that contemplative look she was wearing before Madilla arrived flitting back over her face. "Mm. Got a job offer from some rider named K'zin, though. Weyrcleaning." She sighs. "Could do for... now. How'd you become a healer?" "A tiny little hold near Peyton," is Madilla's answer. "Before the Healer Hall, of course." Her gaze follows Evanthe's, studying the girl and her expression with her own brand of silent thoughtfulness, which lasts for some seconds. "Weyrcleaning," she repeats, at length. "From K'zin. I'm sure you can do better than that, especially if, as you say, it would only be 'for now'. I... well, my story is a little unusual. My family sent me to the Hall in the hopes that I would come back and be of use. They're very insular, my family. I was glad to go, though. I've never regretted my vocation." "Yeah, well..." Evanthe grunts, shifting in her chair a little to sit forward. "Like I said. I'm working on it. Right now I'm stuck between cleaning K'zin's weyr and doing laundry for the rest of my life, and don't get me wrong, the pruny old ladies that gossip in the lower caverns are dear old things, but not exactly what I want to model my life after, y'know?" She pulls a face, plain irritation, all pretty well directed at her own self. "But haven't had any brilliant ideas. Haven't found... my place. Or my calling, or my... being sent away by my family so that I can be of use," she adds, with a sidelong look at the healer. Then she gives a faint smile, and adds on, "Not, of course, to dominate the conversation with my own problems." Echo, echo. For this, Madilla's expression is sympathetic - though that is interrupted by a smile and a low, wry chuckle for that final comment. "It's difficult," she agrees. "Finding your place in the world. It was so important to me that my children grew up knowing they could do anything they wanted; that freedom is important. It doesn't mean we all know what it is we do want. But." Her voice turns abruptly more firm. "Something will come up. It has for most people I know. Even if... sometimes it's not a job so much as something outside that brings people happiness. A hobby." Evanthe can't help the smile, that slow vague thing that grows at Madilla talks about her kids - and her response is genuinely heartfelt. "They're damn lucky, then." The healer's firm insistance that /something/ would happen even earns a breath of a laugh. "Well, I appreciate your confidence for me, person I just met who is so exhausted you're barely upright. Are /you/ hiring?" she adds, smile fading to a smirk. "Also considered getting work at the Snowasis, but the bartender I spoke to seemed to object to my apparent age. Thought it'd be off-putting." Ah, a hard life, indeed. As regards the luckiness of her children, Madilla can only smile, though it's clear she agrees... if not in a way that implies self-satisfaction. For the rest, she just has to laugh. "You're welcome to come and clean bedpans and roll bandages for me," she comments. And, more seriously: "I suppose you're right about the Snowasis. Well, you could always request to Stand, once the eggs are on the sands. Or," her mouth twitches. She stands. "Just clean K'zin's weyr. I'd hate to think what you'd find in there, though. Seriously, though: good luck. I, however, need to get back to the infirmary, to not fall asleep on my patients some more. Wish me luck in return?" "Hm." Evanthe makes that noise, in response to something Madilla says, but she doesn't elaborate further. Just that hm. She stands too, as the healer does. "Thanks. It was good to meet you, you're... pleasant." High praise, right there. "Good luck. Hope you and your girl get some sleep." Pleasant. Madilla could laugh at that-- could, and perhaps will, but not here and now. "Thank you," she says, genuinely. "It was good to meet you too. You'll have to let me know how you go with things." And with that, the healer puts away her empty bowl, and takes her leave. |
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