Logs:Belong
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| RL Date: 16 January, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, T'rev |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla patches T'rev up with conversation (and bandages), and then gets taken out for her efforts. A surprising offer is made. |
| Where: Infirmary, Healer Hall / Nerat |
| When: Day 8, Month 10, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: W'chek/Mentions |
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| 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. On the late side of the day, an uncommon visitor turns up in Reaches' infirmary. Fort's Weyrleader does make it up here from time to time, but it's been a while and it's likely that today he was remedying that fact. Of course, right now, it looks like potentially bad luck to have come today, given the slice along his hand. Looks like there's little bits of glass caught in the mess too and he smells faintly of alcohol and fruit juice, likely from the stain down his front. Did someone have an accident in the Snowasis? Given the time of day, there's not much of a wait to see a healer - or so the Apprentice at the desk promises, after helpfully providing a clean cloth for the wound in the meantime. Sure enough, it's only a few minutes before Madilla accompanies her latest patient towards the door, waving the young woman off with a smile, and turns back to the desk for the skinny on what's next. Her gaze seeks out T'rev, and she starts, but it's with a warm smile that she approaches moments later; "Have you been enjoying a little /too/ much of our hospitality, Weyrleader?" There's a wry 'thank you' for that apprentice and then T'rev sits to contemplate how pretty bloody glass looks, no really, with morbid fascination. Brown eyes lift though at Madilla's approach and greeting and his face breaks into a wide smile. "/Madilla/," Fort's Weyrleader says with answering warmth in his voice. "It's good t'see you again," he says sincerely and his gaze roams, finds the new knot which serves to widen his eyes and increase the delight in his expression. "And /Journeyman/ no less. Shells, congratulations!" He rises to his feet, still holding that cloth to the cut and shrugs a little. "Just an accident, turned too fast, wasn't payin' attention and smashed the mug into the wall and well ..." a little nod to the results. "Not drunk though, I promise. Didn't even really get t'have any of the actual drink!" Ever a professional, Madilla seeks to draw T'rev off towards the examining cubicles with a wave of her hand and a tilt of her head, though this doesn't stop her from looking enormously pleased, too. "Thank you," she says, with genuine pleasure. "And it's good to see you again, too, of course, though I'm sorry that it's /here/. And that you didn't even get any of your drink, at that; let's take a look at it, get it all cleaned up, shall we? So you can go back and try for that drink again." "Infirmary ain't so bad, just y'know, better without the bleedin' part," T'rev says with a wink and follows along dutifully. He sits down in the cubicle he's led to and eyeballs the mess along the side of his left hand. "There's a bunch of glass in it. Hope it won't need stitches. This would wind up bein' the second time I'd need stitches for a really stupid accident," the rider notes and looks back up at the healer. "If you're gettin' off duty soon, could come along and I'll buy you one, broken glass optional." Madilla laughs, noting, as she walks, "I can't think of many truly pleasant reasons to be in an infirmary, but I'll take your word for it. The bleeding, though-- yes." As he sits, she busies herself washing and disinfecting her hands, and gathering together her materials. As she turns back, moving to settle in the chair opposite, she tells him, "I'll take you up on that. Getting you fixed up should take me to the end of my shift. But: let's take a look, first." She draws away the cloth, examining the hand critically. "I'll have to pick the glass out. Numbweed first, though, which should help with the bleeding." "Great!" T'rev says with sunny enthusiasm in spite of you know, the whole glass shards in hand must hurt, thing. He holds dutifully still while she takes a look, waits a moment or two before asking: "So. Other than the shiny new knot, how've you been? Happy to be back home here? And yes, numbweed would be /excellent/ so I don't wind up embarrassing myself by cryin' like a little kid when you pick that stuff out." It's with an amused, and knowing, look that Madilla greets T'rev's last comment; she's already reaching for the pot of numbweed, which she applies carefully. "You'd be far from the first, even if you did," she assures him, merrily. "But if we can avoid it, that's all the better. I can tell you how /brave/ you've been, afterwards, if it helps. How's that feel?" She examines her work with a critical glance even as she reaches for her tweezers, adding, then, "I've been well, thank you. I enjoyed the Hall, but... yes. It's lovely to be home. And to be staying, too, even after--" The promotion and all. "Glass aside, how are you?" Grinning, T'rev casts another wink Madilla's way. "Sure, balm t'the ego n' all that. Does that come with a lollipop too?" Teasing of course as the numbweed goes on. More seriously: "A lot better, thanks," Fort's Weyrleader states and listens as the healer answers his questions. "Mmm. Sometimes I think home gets appreciated all the more when you leave it for a time," T'rev says philosophically. "Even when a person's given t'wanderin'." He smiles at her again and takes a breath but doesn't use it to answer her question right away. A few seconds pass before he speaks. "Pretty good, all things considered. Stuff's still stressful down Fort-way, boats still gettin' attacked and all. But you know, can't give up and there's still good things in life. My daughter's stayin' with me for a while, for instance. Safer at the Weyr and all." Madilla manages to not even smile as she says, with mock seriousness, "Would you like it to come with a lollipop?" The effect is somewhat ruined by the grin that returns moments later, but still: not bad. Her head lowers over his hand, as the tweezers get to work, drawing bits of glass out with a careful, steady hand. Thank goodness for the numbweed: this would otherwise probably hurt a lot. "I've heard about all of that - the boats and everything. I'm sorry; that can't be terribly easy. It must be nice to have your daughter around, though. I can't imagine not having a child of mine close all the time." Her head tips up just slightly as she adds, then, "I think you're right, about home. I suppose it really brings... home, as it were, how important it is to belong. How nice it feels." That deadpan query and its content make T'rev press his lips together, though his eyes are twinkling rather madly above the effort not to come out with the sort of quip that comes naturally. Exhale. Something marginally less loaded: "I do like lollipops." Likewise mock serious. Until he lets out a quiet hiss when tweezers brush against a little bit of not-quite-numbed-enough abraded flesh. "Yeah, right mess is what. And no it isn't. Hopefully it'll get sorted out soon." Hope in his voice and he smiles again at mention of his daughter. "I catch up with the caravan every night they're on the road, or as close to it as I can. Nice thing about dragons, they make distances short. But I'll admit it's been nice t'have her closer for a bit." His gaze meets Madilla's for a moment as she continues. "Yeah. Exactly. Sort of like a puzzle piece fittin' back into place." Madilla, thankfully, is utterly oblivious to any of the comments that /could/, or indeed might /usually/, be made. "In that case, my brave man, a lollipop you shall have." She has to bite back an actual laugh this time, and hastily draw her tweezers away before she causes any real damage with them as a result. "I hope so," she continues, presumably speaking of Fort's troubles. "I truly do." It's her turn to watch him, as he speaks of his daughter; her expression is one that could almost be called fond, as she bobs her head in agreement. "I suppose that would make things easier. But even so." Examining the wound, which is now very nearly glass free, she adds, "Exactly. A puzzle piece. It's nice to realise how much you belong." "I'll do my best to make good on 'brave' and look forward to the sweet reward," T'rev says gravely indeed, still /mostly/ holding onto the edge of propriety if by a fingernail. His gaze drops down to his hand though as she draws the tweezers away. "S'allright, I guess some of it didn't moosh down all the way," he notes, squinting into the raw cut without any sign of squeamishness. He looks back up, catches that expression on her face and his grin tilts, going lopsided. "Yeah. I'm glad she gets to see all the different sides of life on Pern. Trader. Weyr. Hold a little bit." Shifting a bit in his seat, he stills again to allow the remainder of the glass to be removed. "I'm glad you've got a place like that, Madilla," the Fortian says quietly. "Seems like some of the folks I'm close to and some that I just know are strugglin' with that lately." "So far, so good," says Madilla, merrily. Innocently. "We're nearly done with this, at least, and then we can wash it and put more numbweed on, I promise." She sounds apologetic, despite his comment, and hurries to get the rest out with as much finesse as she can. "I think it's a good idea - to see it all. It seems strange to me, now, that I might have gone my life without seeing any more than the tiny little holds in the area I came from." As she sets her tweezers done, for good, finally, she tilts her head back up to look T'rev in the eye. "I'm sorry to hear that," is her genuine remark, tinged with sadness. "I wish it weren't so. I'm lucky, I suspect: I imagine I would - and will - find home anywhere I'm sent, ultimately. But I know it's not so easy for everyone." "Be a shame to disappoint you," T'rev adds in one more semi-quip, nods about the numbweed, largely unperturbed by the wound part at least. "Mmm yeah. Don't know that I could've stayed put t'be honest. Though it would've been easier up at the waystation where I'm from." His gaze meets hers again and T'rev nods. "Folks adjust in time. I think maybe sometimes it happens more at Weyrs. Things are different there for a lot of people comin' in from holds." A sigh of relief follows as the rider flexes his hand, now free of glass. "Speakin' of waystations, ever been to one?" "A waystation? No, never. What are they like?" Madilla draws closer the next supplies she needs: a bowl of water and some redwort, and reaches for his hand again, this time to give it a proper clean, gently and carefully. "Different," she adds, then, reflectively. "Yes, absolutely. I'm not sure if I would have managed, going from my home hold straight to here; a turn and a half at the Hall helped a great deal. But I've met a few people arriving here who seem--" She hesitates. "Mostly, just impossibly glad of every part of life, and dismissive of what they came from." Which makes her frown a little. "I suppose we're all different." "Depends on the station," T'rev says candidly. "The one I'm from is kind of like a non-stop kitchen party 'round the clock. My family's real open, jolly. And my grandfather bakes up a mean cake." He regards her for a moment as she goes on, nods understanding. "Yeah. Bit of a shock to just jump right in. Especially if a kid impresses too," the rider remarks thoughtfully then re-focuses. "Yeah? So they're happy to be able to start over?" Another nod, this one more energetic. "Yeah we all are. And well, y'know, in the end, that's a good thing. Live and let live, right? I've been ... re-learnin' that lately." Rueful. "So ... if you're gettin' off duty, we could be a bit more darin' than the Snowasi and try out a waystation if you're game. Could be around here, or even though it's plumb late over yonder, Nerat, my grandfather's place." Madilla's expression is sympathetic for the rueful, and both surprised and visibly pleased for the suggestion of waystation visiting. "I'd like that," she murmurs, as she sets her cloth back in the bowl of now-bloodied-and-redworted water, eyes briefly on T'rev again. "Your station sounds-- lovely. Different again, from Hold and Weyr and Hall. My--" She hesitates, frowning. "Ex-fiance had a lot of difficulty, I think, getting used to the weyr. I think he's more at home now, though, though... it's harder for me to know, I suppose." She wipes her hands dry, then reaches again for the numbweed pot. "I think you're going to escape stitches, at least." There's another smile as Madilla's expression shades sympathetic, though it's still got that hint of rue in it. "Hopefully the lesson'll stick and no one'll get too messed up by me messin' up," T'rev says quietly and straightens up, hand flattening as she finishes up with it. "Nerat by moonlight it is then," he says more chipperly, some of the spark returning to his eyes until she mentions the ex and he whistles lowly. "That ... sounds like you've got a story to tell there, if you've a mind to. Glad he sorted himself out though." Beat. "And you?" T'rev's gaze lingers on the healer's features, like he's trying to sort out where she stands on that situation. And yet, there he goes smiling again, pleased for the lack of stitches. "That's a relief t'be honest. Hate the itchin' part when you can't /scratch./" Gently; "We all mess up sometimes. Sometimes even after we've learned the lesson once. I suppose it's just... hopefully, we /do/ actually learn the lesson sooner rather than later, yes." If her expression is a little more troubled at the way he picks up on her mention of W'chek, well, she avoids it a little by scooping up some numbweed to apply on the wound. "He lives with a man, now," is her explanation, made simply, and without bitterness. "I suppose my biggest regret is that I thought I had things worked out: a husband, children to come. I'm just going to have to approach things differently, now, that's all." She even smiles, shrugs her shoulders lightly. And she even sounds amused as she adds, "So I'm told. I've never actually /had/ stitches myself, but... I'd always rather avoid them, where possible." "We do. It's just that when the Weyrleader messes up, sometimes that has a bigger y'know, effect than just some rider, or some guy out there," T'rev replies mildly. "But I bet that's something you have to deal with too. Healers carry a lot of responsibility too, no matter what rank," the Fortian muses quietly. He looks back up at Madilla, brows up and draws a breath. "Ahhh. So the world really did open up for him here. Must be a rough edge to walk, bein' happy for him for findin' his way, but disappointed for yourself." His head cocks to the side, expression shading curious. "Tell me if I'm pryin' too much but, what do you mean by a different approach?" There goes his hand flexing again as the fresh round of numbweed is applied. "And thanks, that feels tons better." Madilla's head nods sympathetically, and she agrees, neutrally, "Yes, I suppose that's a similarity between our jobs, yes. It-- it's something that terrified me for a long time. I thought I'd never be able to be a Journeyman, because I couldn't comprehend being actually the person to make the decisions like that." It's something that makes her half smile in recollection, though what she says next has her shaking her head: "I believe he'd-- known. And was trying to pretend otherwise. I don't know. We never really discussed the details, after I found out. Though yes: a rough edge." She takes a breath, and busies herself with bandaging the wound as she continues, "Just that-- I don't anticipate having the traditional family unit I originally expected. I'll have to ask someone to father my children." Her head bobs for the thanks, her smile warm. "I'm glad." "For what it's worth, didn't think I could hack it as Weyrleader either," T'rev admits. "Not for a while anyway, used t'try to make sure Mecaith got out of the way when there was a senior flight." Wry grin. "Makin' big decisions can be tough. I was comfortable with it with just a wing. But ... it feels, you know, heavy, when it's a whole Weyr. Someone's life ..." his expression shades thoughtful, focus more on whatever is going through his mind than his surroundings for a few moments. He snaps back though as Madilla changes the subject back to her ex. "Can imagine that'd be tough too ... given givens. The pretendin'. The world often has some really screwed up ideas about what's right n' wrong if y'ask me," T'rev says with a slight twist to his mouth. Helpfully, T'rev turns his hand when it might be useful to do so for bandaging purposes and then blinks at what Madilla states, tips his chin up to scrutinize her features in the wake of that pronouncement. "Don't count yourself out of bein' able to find someone so soon, Madilla," the bronzerider says quietly. "You're a lovely person and you've got time yet t'find that special guy who wants to share that kinda life with you." Earnestly spoken. His bandaged hand turns, aims to catch her fingers gently. "'Course if it comes down to it and you're still lookin' at some point and you don't mind a very loose, card-playin' fella ..." Pause. "The offer's open." Breath out. And then he's standing, peeking out into the infirmary. "For right now though, I believe I owe you a drink and an introduction to Big Tree Waystation. Still up for it?" And that might add up to a very odd bit of conversation, but T'rev really doesn't seem all that fazed by either the proposition or the fact that it' sandwiched between both the serious and the lighthearted. "It's never easy, thinking about the lives that depend on you," agrees Madilla, quietly, though ultimately, she's distracted from that chain of thought by the one that follows, her cheeks going pink in the wake of his compliments - not to mention the offer - though not enough that she needs to turn her attention away. Her fingers caught, she stills in the bandaging focus, murmuring, finally, "It's not that I've given up, just... the likelihood seems very slim. I'm not much like a normal weyr girl. And... I don't mind." Which seems genuine enough. "I..." She hesitates. "Appreciate the offer. Thank you." The change in subject, again, at least seems a more comfortable one, and she smiles, hastily tying up the end of the bandage as she nods. "Absolutely: yes, I'd like to. I'll just need to wash my hands again, but you should be all set, now." Mindful of that blush, T'rev does not revisit the subject in question, though he does lift his other hand briefly to cradle hers between his palms, even if one of them is crossed with bandaging. "What's normal anyway?" he does murmur very very softly and his smile for her is kind. "You'll need a jacket for Between of course, but it's gonna be really warm over in Nerat," he counsels about both trip and expected weather. "If you've never been to the jungle, it might be a big surprise. The air feels /alive/," T'rev says with enthusiasm threading his voice. Despite that blush, Madilla doesn't seem terribly concerned with pulling her hand away: she lets it rest there, lifting her face so that she can meet T'rev's gaze again. She even smiles, laughing; "Maybe so." If she doesn't entirely agree, well, it's not something she's going to argue right now. "I've been to Nerat," she continues, easily. "I remember that feeling. It's-- different from what I'm used to. Though I like the warmth. My family is from south of Peyton. My coat's just in one of the offices, anyway, I can just run and get it." Beat. Then, more quietly; "You obviously still miss it. Well: still love it, at least." Another little squeeze for her hand and T'rev nods. "Good then, won't be too much of a shock. And the station's not down near Nerat tip, more north, up towards Half Circle. It was different gettin' used to the air not feeling that way other places," he offers over. "I miss it sometimes, though I can usually get my fix goin' to Boll or Ista if I'm not headin' home of a seven." He starts to step out of the cubicle, but turns to nod. "Yeah. I do. I love Nerat. Love the station. Love my family. Fort's another kind of home now and findin' my father's family in Boll's added yet another, but I think I'll always be a Nerat boy at heart." It doesn't take Madilla long to hurriedly wash her hands clean, then follow T'rev towards the cubicles exit and the infirmary beyond. "I'm sure it must have been," she agrees. "And getting used to the snow and ice-- so utterly different. You're lucky, though, that you can go visiting like that, so easily. I'm half envious of that." She's smiling, warmly, as she concludes, "I think there's always a sense of belonging to where you're from, even when you're-- distant from it. Whatever happens. I'll just grab my coat, meet you by the infirmary door?" "Took a few turns," T'rev agrees amiably about the weather adjustment. "And I still don't /like/ bein' cold much," his head bobs and his chin tilts towards the door. "Yeah, roots and all that. Just some of us, those roots are in different places." Another grin follows and T'rev gives a little salute. "Will do. See you in a minute." And he ambles at an easy pace towards the door, strikes up a lightweight conversation with the apprentice on duty at the desk given the lull in incoming patients. "I think the snow's pretty enough," says Madilla, "But I'd rather be warm, too. I like summer." She bobs her head a few more times, in response to the rest of what T'rev says, then ducks across the room to disappear into the office in question. When she returns, it's with her coat over her arm, and her apron removed and evidently left behind. "Ready to go," she reports, brightly, looking terribly excited. "Thank you, for inviting me." As she goes and before he strikes up conversation with the apprentice: "Yeah, the snow is okay, but that raw cold ... brrr," T'rev says expressively and hunches his shoulders. When she returns, he's leaning against the wall, winding up some story or another and grins at the apprentice. "Clear skies," he offers to the lad cheerily, then offers Madilla his arm. "C'mon then Journeyman, Nerat awaits you!" he quips merrily. The Apprentice in question seems mildly envious, clearly having eaten up that story like it was pie with ice cream. Madilla, though, farewells him warmly, as she accepts T'rev's arm. "To Nerat!" she agrees, delightedly. "Where there is none of this awful wind and cool rain... I hope, anyway." "If there's any rain, it'll be the warm kind," T'rev promises and heads off into the corridor, chatting lightly about Fort's weather vs. the Reaches' and various other minor things as they head out into the windy, rainy Bowl where Mecaith waits patiently close to the caverns entrance. His focus however, is upward towards a particular ledge. Or maybe the Star Stones. It's not until T'rev nears that his great head swings around to take in the two approaching people and his nose drops to touch lightly towards Madilla. "He bids you a very good evening and would like to say that he's pleased to be able to offer you transport to a new vista," T'rev notes laughingly, then shifts to offer the healer a hand up onto the dragon's back. In short order, mounting and straps will be dealt with and find the Fortian in place behind Madilla, his voice steadily announcing liftoff, a warning of Between soon and then the actual moment just before the jump, with his hand offered should she require the reassurance. The exact details of what Mecaith says makes Madilla laugh, though her response is warm enough: "And a good evening to you, too, Mecaith. Thank you very much for being so obliging." She's evidently not /too/ used to mounting bronze dragons, but manages quite well with T'rev's help, and seems relatively comfortable once astride - not even needing that hand as they jump between. She may have been to Nerat before, too, but that doesn't stop her gaze from being distinctly interested as they break free, her smile a broad and brilliant one. Given the time difference, it's moon light rather than sunlight that bathes the area above the waystation, the jungle tipped with silver though the station itself is obvious, the windows casting squares of warm light out into the darkness, even so late. "There's a clearing just off behind the place," T'rev leans in to relate. "And that there, is the tree," he notes, pointing to the outline of the big tree that gives the place its name. "Climbed that a bunch when I was little. D'you climb trees?" It's a serious question even if his tone is a little on the playful side as Mecaith cruises down smoothly to a landing in the grassy clearing. "Trees?" Madilla laughs at this, her shoulders shaking. "Girls didn't do such things, not where I came from. I used to watch the apprentices, and some of the hold kids, do it while I was at the Hall, though. I used to enjoy that. Sometimes they'd drop things on my head, though." Nonetheless, she seeks out the tree with her gaze, clearly delighted by it all. "It's a lovely spot. It must have been nice to grow up here, I should think." "More differences," T'rev drawls out as he unclips straps, scoots backward to swing his leg over and drops down to the ground, offers a hand up to help Madilla down. "Was, yeah. Easy to be a kid here ..." he murmurs thoughtfully, then smiles up at the journeyman. "C'mon. Maybe if you're feelin' daring, we can climb the tree. But for now, let's go see if there's any cake leftover and who's in off the road tonight." Madilla accepts the hand and climbs down carefully, heeding her skirts but evidently not /too/ concerned about them, all the same. "Lots of differences. Always," she agrees, with a smile, once she's safely on the ground again. "Thank you, Mecaith," she adds, with a glance at the bronze. "Me, climb a tree? I don't know-- that would be a new one!" But not entirely unwelcome, perhaps. "But cake, though? Definitely. Let's go." There's a quiet whuff from Mecaith and T'rev's fingers curl around Madilla's to lead the way indoors with an answering smile. "We'll see," he says about the tree, winks about cake. Inside there's still locals playing some cards and trading stories, a small cluster of traders, a lone harper plucking out a tune on a harp for a small audience and several of T'rev's family members still on duty to serve. The welcome for a returning son is typically warm and is extended without ceremony and considerable effusiveness to his guest. The cake of the day is a spice variety rich with ginger and cinnamon and other flavors as well as the tange of orange zest. There's stories to trade and at one point a little bit of dancing as the harper strikes up a merrier tune, with T'rev of course offering to take Madilla for a spin around the room, though he might also get cut in on by one of his cousins. Apparently rough-cut country charm runs in the blood because the other young man is not /quite/ as circumspect about the flirting as T'rev has been. This might necessitate some rescuing and the rider might wheedle a little to get Madilla to try at least climbing up the first branch of that tree. Should she accept, she'll find the branches sturdy and well spaced, conducive to climbing at least. As the night shades later at Nerat and the station starts to if not shut down, quiet down for the night, there's a porch swing to sit in, with a couple of glasses of sweet iced tea and the sound of the ocean from somewhere off in the distance and the fragrant jungle air to enjoy. There T'rev's got more stories to share and aims to draw some out of his companion as well, before it's time to go. For once, Madilla seems more than willing to try-- well, just about /anything/, though the flirting certainly does rather pinken her cheeks, and make her a little awkward. Still, there's no denying she has a wonderful time, and is quick to confirm as much, with effusive thanks and appreciation. |
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