Logs:Are you fu-fu-/fucking/ B'tal?
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| RL Date: 24 August, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The time for truth telling finally comes. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 7, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. Madilla hasn't been here that long - ten minutes, fifteen, maybe? It was a dramatic entrance, though: a stumbling, sobbing apprentice, running straight past all those lucky people enjoying the sun, crossing the land bridge, then clambering blindly over rocks. Now, she perches on one of the most distant outcroppings, her knees drawn close to her chest, her face buried in the crevice between them. Tears. There are... tears? W'chek seems to register that in exactly the same moment as his usual noticing that--hey, look, Madilla! This time, there's Madilla. There's Madilla, crying. Not the least bit to his credit, it takes him a little longer to approach her that way, not to mention the fact that she's picked this out of the way place to sit. He was really just going for a walk. Not prepared for--whatever tears mean. "Madilla? Is that--are you all right?" as he draws a bit closer, over those rocks himself. "You okay?" Closer, it's possible to see how Madilla's shoulders shake, and hear the snuffling, breathless, hoarse sound she's making. The sound of W'chek's voice makes her freeze, and it's not until after he's finished speaking that, slowly, she draws her red-eyed face up towards him. For a moment, it's like she doesn't know what to say, and even, maybe, like she's considering running away. But the words tumble out, eventually, in a voice that catches: "Are you fu-fu-/fucking/ B'tal?" Of all of the words W'chek might possibly have expected to come out of Madilla's mouth, even if he really did think that this moment had to come someday, those aren't anywhere on the list. Not even after, 'Oh, W'chek, I'm so very happy that you're happy and I'm dropping out of the craft so we can have babies right now!' Yes, okay, that was probably on the list of possibilities. At the bottom, though. What this unexpected wrinkle leaves him is staring, lips half-parted for a long moment. Finally, that most intelligent reply: "Pardon?" While W'chek struggles to come up with some kind of response, Madilla lets out a few more hiccoughing sobs. His answer doesn't really change her expression - it's not relief, it's not condemnation, it's just... heartbreak. What else could it be? "You. And B'tal." There are long spaces between the words as she struggles to get them out in one piece. "Are you? I need the truth." That's when W'chek has to find a place himself to sit, not too close to her but beside nonetheless, tucking his own knees up consciously or otherwise so that his position mirrors the one she adopted. It's entirely too long before he manages to make his mouth form words, a pause full of attempts, of shifting jaw and licking lips and little grimaces that never quite become sounds. It's not a denial he manages, at last, although 'yes' also seems to be outside his capability at the moment. "I'm sorry," is what he gets to come together, although it comes out choked. "I wanted to be a good person. I thought maybe the... sickness would go away. Eventually. And we could be happy." Madilla's eyes shut, as he attempts to say something, and a couple of tears start tracing their way down her face again; she knows. Her head turns away, and as he begins to speak, her eyes open again, though she's staring off into the distance in a different direction. She's silent for a long time after he finishes talking, and then, out of nowhere: "I don't understand. How... You lied to me. You made me believe... how could you, W'chek?" Awkward, awkward. W'chek does manage to fish out a handkerchief from his pocket, here, not that it bears really close inspection, and Faranth knows how long it's been wadded up in that pocket. He kind of halfway holds it out, then thinks better of it, pulls his hand away--and then reverses course to offer it again. Just in case. Better to be the idiot offering than the idiot not. "I just want a normal life. I never wanted anything else." Pause. "If I just wanted... other things, why would I bother with that? I wanted a family. A woman to mend my socks and care if the bed was made and pick paint colors. To... mother my children. And I thought... if I was never going to be the great romance, I could make it up to you. Somehow." Another pause, too much blinking in between. "And maybe the rest of it would come in time. The... wanting." Madilla continues to look away, entirely missing the adventures of the handkerchief until, finally, she looks back again, not quite meeting his gaze, but still, at least /looking/, as he talks. One of her hands is drawn away from her knee, and she accepts the handkerchief, holding it in her hand as though she's not quite sure what to do with it as she listens. "But first, you were going to lie to me, carry on behind my back with someone I /trusted/, cared about, and..." She stops, and finally, dabs her eyes with the handerchief, blows her nose. "You've made me a fool. How could I have been so stupid?" "You're not stupid." That's the first thing W'chek gets out of the way, returning the hand that held the handkerchief to hold onto his shin. "I'm a liar. That's... it's what I always have been. But B'tal just kind of happened. He was there, and he's..." 'A good lay' is probably not the sort of description Whit should be using here. "He cares." Hers seems to be a good enough word for the moment, until the weyrling summons up what might be his one moment of bravery in this whole conversation. "He loves me." Without qualifications. No 'he says he' or 'he thinks he' or 'I think maybe'. And then in that same mold, "I love him." Little more hesitance, maybe. "Only I couldn't just leave because maybe it's not the same, but I care about you, too. And us. I didn't... think anybody would find out." Which is not a great note to end on. Courage dissipating like blood in water. Her nose blown, her eyes wiped, Madilla folds the handerchief and then sets it down upon the rock next to her, letting both of her hands return to her knees, which she hugs. Her words are devoid of emotion, utterly empty. "He loves you. You love him. Then..." Beat. "You care about me. But not enough to tell me. Not enough to... You /love/ him." The emotion is back, now, and it's bitter. "How do I know you're telling the truth now? Do you really care, or was I just convenient? A good cover. Convince your family, everyone here, that you were..." She's beginning to cry again. "That I was who I wanted to be," W'chek finishes the sentence, as gently as he can manage, not that a little bit of an edge doesn't creep in near the end. There's a sigh, then. "Maybe you can't know. I can't ask you to trust me. You were convenient, at first. You were here and friendly and a reason to stay when my family said I should go home. And then I liked you. Then I loved you, and what was I supposed to do then?" Eyes squeeze closed for just a moment, and when he goes on that hint of anger is gone. "So I care about him, but not enough to tell anyone. And I care about you, but not enough to tell you. But if I did all those things, I'd still be a monster. None of it makes me *not* a homosexual, Madilla." The two terms pronounced like synonyms. "I wanted to give you a good life. And pretend that I was good, like it would be the same thing as being good. I'm sorry." Madilla flinches, visibly, when he uses the word: homosexual. "Being-- like that doesn't make you a monster." Now, she just sounds sad. "But living a lie? Creating a lie?" Maybe that does, though she's not convinced enough of it to say it out loud. She's silent for a few breaths after that, and turns her head away again. "What am I supposed to say? That I forgive you, that it's okay? That truly, I don't mind having all of my dreams snatched from me?" The words are dramatic, but the tone is not: she might as well be talking about the weather. The first count, W'chek leaves alone. He doesn't believe it, that much is plain. The second--well, he just shrugs, sighs again. "Tell me to leave, if you like. I don't expect you to forgive me. It's not okay. It never was okay. I just want you to know that it wasn't... you, somehow." He stops, for a moment. "I didn't mean to take anything away from you. I was never lying about what I wanted. I know people like me aren't supposed to have families. You wouldn't want me around your kids. I understand. But if nobody knew, I thought... I could be good at it. Being a husband and a father." "I was going to let B'tal be around my children, wasn't I? I felt so bad for him, because he wasn't going to get any of his own." But that's not really an answer to anything. Madilla wipes her eyes, and then, suddenly, determined, stands. "I don't think I can talk to you about this right now. I need--" She doesn't seem to know, because the words get left hanging like she's trying to figure it out until, eventually, she shakes her head. "I'm glad you weren't lying about that part, W'chek, because I don't think I could forgive you, if you had been. But I just... I can't talk about this. Not now. Thank you for finally telling me the truth." She's already beginning to clamber past him, away. That bit about not getting any of his own--W'chek cringes visibly at that. Takes a sharp breath in through the nose. That was not a sniffle. It wasn't. He is not now nor is he ever going to be the kind of guy who sniffles. "Felt sorry for him." A little shake of his head. "Guys like... us." Even now, putting himself into that group seems somehow unfamiliar on his tongue. But there it is. "No. You need to go. It's all right. I understand." He, he's just going to stay there for awhile. "Who--who told you?" Only now does he ask, when it's nearly irrelevant. But if she's about to go, it's now or never. Madilla's eyes show something unreadable-- pity? Worry? Maybe just sadness in general. She pauses to look back at him, to shake her head. "Does it matter? Someone braver than you. Goodbye, W'chek." And she's gone - after this, she won't look back. |
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