Logs:Bad News
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| RL Date: 24 August, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana is the bearer of... bad news. Horrifying news. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 7, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, R'uen/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions, Z'yi/Mentions |
| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like. Summer days don't seem to be terribly busy in the infirmary, because there's no one waiting in the little reception area at this point, and not much activity beyond there, either. What little activity /is/ going on is at the reception desk, where Madilla is carefully wrapping a bandage around the knee of a smile child perched on top of it, with a nanny hovering protectively nearby. "It doesn't even hurt no more!" enthuses the little boy, peering down at his knee as though he's suspicious it's been removed entirely; Madilla just smiles at him, indulgant. "Okay, kid. You're healed. Get out," Tiriana announces unceremoniously as she barges right up to Madilla immediately upon entering the infirmary. She even points him toward the door and gives the nanny a sharp look just in case she doesn't pick up on just what it is the Weyrwoman wants. Three sets of eyes lift to meet Tiriana's at /that/ pronouncement, one of them instantly filling with tears. Madilla's narrow, and for a moment it looks as though she has something to say on this subject, but the nanny rests one hand upon her arm, shakes her head, and hoists the small boy now. "Come on, Deverin-- let's get you back to the others. Thanks, Apprentice." Obviously put out, Madilla manages to do little more than give a quick smile to patient and carer before they depart, leaving her alone with the Weyrwoman. Whom she /eyes/. Coolly, if politely: "Is there something I can help you with, Weyrwoman?" The tears might make Tiriana a little uncomfortable, but really, she's a woman on the mission and she slides up on the table to swing her feet like a little kid. Her smirk is decidedly gleeful. She announces, "Your boyfriend fucks guys." That motion makes Madilla back up just slightly, keeping her distance from the now leg-swinging Weyrwoman. Tiriana's words come just as she's about to put her foot down again, and the impact of them makes her fumble the step, wobbling for a moment before she rights herself. She's frowning, confused. "I don't know what you mean." "Your. Boyfriend," Tiriana says, enunciating every word very carefully, like Madilla is very slow. "Takes it up the ass." And she gives the poor healer girl a very pointed look: does she get it /now/? No. No, she doesn't. At least... not instantly. But the progression of understanding? It's pretty visible. It starts with a flush, and then, she goes very, very pale. "I realise that you don't like me, Weyrwoman, and that's certainly your prerogative. But making up lies like that? Is unbecoming. And unnecessary." "No, no," says Tiriana, shaking her head sharply. "I do like you. Sort of. Ish." Okay, maybe that's not very convincing, but at least Tiriana looks more earnest, less gleeful. She even stops swinging her feet. "Okay, maybe not, but I wouldn't even bother if it were /that/ simple. I heard it straight from the--well, the guy he's fucking by proxy, anyway. So it's true. And it's not right. --I mean, whatever, I don't care who he fucks, but he's fucking you, too, and you oughta know, so. Now you know." Madilla is not taken in by that, and meets Tiriana's gaze with raised eyebrows and an outright dubious expression, though it's made distinctly less effective by those pale cheeks. "W'chek is not--" Beat. Breath. "'fucking' anyone. You're mistaken. I'm sorry that someone has been filling your ears with lies, but that's the truth. Gossip is dangerous, Weyrwoman, you should know that. It hurts people's reputations." Maybe. Maybe not. Because Tiriana is snickering, and like a twelve-year-old, points out, "You said 'fucking.'" But back on topic. "He's fucking B'tal, if you have to know. Didn't really want to have to throw /him/ to the wolves, too, along with your fag boyfriend. But it explains a lot, doesn't it?" That makes Madilla blush; it's probably the first time she's ever said the word in question, though it doesn't seem to have given her any thrill to do so. "B'tal?" she repeats, the name arcing off into a question towards the 'l' sound. "No, that can't be right. B'tal would never do such a thing." Not to Madilla's man. Surely. If it does explain anything, the healer is definitely not saying. "I thought you liked B'tal. Spreading gossip about him... that's awful. You should leave." "Hey, I don't have any problem with B'tal," Tiriana swears off that one with a wave of her hand. "Don't care if /he's/ fucking guys. I mean, I know of W'chek, and... some others, and... anyway, that part doesn't matter. Not about him." She leans forward, hands on the edge of her seat. "So... how do you know it's not true? He ever made /any/ move on you?" "B'tal and-- Z'yi." Madilla knows that one, knows it /true/. It's a stalling move, though, probably, letting her build up the words to respond to Tiriana's actual question. After a deep breath, she says, plainly, "Because he wouldn't do that to me. We're not like Weyr folk, Weyrwoman. He's engaged to me; we'll wait until I'm a Journeyman, and am free to marry." Her arms move to wrap around her middle, protectively; for all her protestations, she's clearly upset. Tiriana just sighs, leans over to pat Madilla's shoulder, as though that's some kind of comfort. "Look, okay. I know you're holdbred. And you're a good girl and all that, but guys? There are two types of guys, and 'good' is not one of them," she explains, so long-sufferingly. Ticking each category off on her fingers, "There are guys that want into your pants, and there are guys who want into B'tal's pants. If he's not trying to get into yours..." Madilla twitches away, instead, as though Tiriana's hand were made of burning coals or something. "I don't believe you," she says, stoutly, plainly, hands now going to her hips. "He wouldn't. He wouldn't lie to me like that. We're going to be a /family/." Tiriana shrugs. "Suit yourself. I thought you might be better than him--self-deluding idiot that /he/ is. You know, hoped you might be able to face up to the truth," she says, expression mournful. "I mean, I wouldn't like to have to admit /I/ was some guy's beard, but then, my weyrmate can't stay off me." Beat. "And he's not weyrbred, either, so that's no excuse." Silence, from Madilla, though her eyes have started to fill with tears. When she does finally manage to say something, she sounds as though she's barely holding it together. "You need to go. I don't have anything to say to you, right now. Please. Go." The tears, at least, seem to have an effect. Tiriana looks uncertain for a moment, the first time in this conversation. And she doesn't go, either, though she does slide off onto her feet again. "Are... you okay?" she wonders. "What do you think?" That comes out before Madilla can stop herself, and it's harsh, sharp. She sort of freezes after that, just for a moment, though, then straightens her shoulders and draws her arms back to her sides. "I'm fine. I'm just not in the mood to listen to these-- these /lies/. Leave W'chek and I alone." Of course, she still sounds like she's holding back tears. Bewildered, Tiriana stares at Madilla. "You're not supposed to /cry/," she says, as though this is totally unexpected in answer to the torment she's been dishing out. "You're supposed to... I don't know. Smash things. Hurt him. That's what /I'd/ do." Madilla takes a deep, ragged breath. "I'm not you," is what she says, and it's so quiet she might as well be whispering. "And I don't... I don't know. I don't." Her hand has started wandering towards her midsection, resting just there, where, one day, there might be a much-wanted curve. "You're wrong. You have to be wrong." Tiriana does not look so convinced, just eyeing Madilla dubiously for another minute. "Except I'm not," she points out. "I mean... You want me to go kick his ass for you? I'll kick his ass. I mean, that's the only reason I figured I'd tell you first, you'd want to be the one to do it." "You /have/ to be." But Madilla doesn't sound so convinced now, and there are definitely tear track marks down her face. "I don't know. I don't... No. Don't. Please don't. I'd have to hear it from him." She meets Tiriana's gaze squarely, as she says this: "It's our business. I need to talk to him." "Like he's going to admit it, after all this." Tiriana shrugs, though. "And what do I have to gain by lying? I'm not /that/ sadistic. Really." Beat. "But take the day off--I'll tell the master," she offers after another moment, awkward. Of this Madilla is certain: "He will. If I ask him." She doesn't seem to have an answer to the rest, just a shake of her head, a frown, which is probably enough to suggest that, simply, she doesn't know. Slowly, she takes in a deep breath, and then releases it once more; "Thank you. I need to--" Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Her hand waves in the general direction of 'out'. Or maybe it's just 'away'. "Yeah. Sure. See you." It's the best sort of goodbye Tiriana can come up with, and after a moment of dawdling, she unceremoniously dusts herself off then and heads off toward the offices to take care of that little bit of business. And Madilla... Not runs. But walks, fast. Straight out the door, and away. And now? The tears are coming down in earnest. |
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