Logs:Do No Harm
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| RL Date: 15 December, 2014 |
| Who: Madilla, Miska |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Healer Hall |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Madilla's return, she faces Miska. |
| Where: Weyrhealer's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 7, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Teris/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated! |
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>---< Weyrhealer's Office, High Reaches Weyr >-------------------------------<
The Weyrhealer's Office has clearly been recently redecorated; much of the
furniture looks quite new. The room has been set out into several
different spaces: a desk, with a chair behind it and two set out in front,
several bookcases, and then a little sitting area. The hangings on the
wall, the rugs, and the fabrics used to cover the chairs all match: a
color scheme of purples and reds that aim for warmth and comfort.
A kettle hangs above the little hearth that provides warmth to the room,
with a small shelf next to it where a collection of teas, as well as mugs
and spoons, can be found.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Madilla F 33 5'7" Average, Brown hair, Green eyes 0s
Miska M 26 6'2 Slim, Dark blonde hair, Green eyes 1m
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Infirmary
>-------------------------------------< 17D 7M 36T I10, summer morning>---< Madilla's note was delivered around lunchtime, yesterday: short and to the point, it instructed Miska to be in the Weyrhealer's office first thing the next morning. Madilla is in early, going through paperwork and catching herself up, one eye on the door. She's thinner than she was, before she left; more tan, too. Punctual and refreshed - did he even just sentence a goldrider to a miserable withdrawal period without the option to find release? - Miska shows up as he's bid, wearing his usual simple attire and a stoic expression. Not a hair is out of place nor is there a single glimmer of tenuous emotion revealed on his pale face. He appears as a healer should, both calm and collected, polite and inscrutable. Pausing just outside of the doorway, he waits for the Weyrhealer to notice him, which given the way she's been watching the door is shortly, before he gives his respects in a simple greeting: "Good morning, Madilla. I hope it finds you well." Well indeed. "Miska," says Madilla in reply, gesturing towards the chairs in front of her desk by way of invitation. "Shut the door on your way in?" Her own tone and expression are neutral enough, though they lack the warmth that is more often characteristic of her. "I'm well enough, thank you. You'd better debrief me on everything that has happened in my absence." Recent events notwithstanding, Miska follows instructions well. He shuts the door before folding his large frame in the offered chair. He remains stoic throughout, his face failing to betray the inner workings on his mind; just as well. "Everything functioned as normal. Births were fewer and we had many cases of colds. Not enough hand washing." He flicks out one hand, fingers splayed and then curled, inward, into a fist. "I am sure you have heard of the Telgari woman, Teris." Green eyes rest on Madilla, lightly - still, no emotion. "It was an unfortunate accident that happened to her dragon, and more unfortunate that she was caught within High Reaches' walls." Madilla's expression remains impassive as Miska speaks, her fingers curving about her stylus as she takes notes - or perhaps just marks up one of the reports on the desk in front of her. "Did she request a mercy draught?" she asks, at the end, in a quiet voice. Now, finally, she sounds... sad. Neatly deflecting- "We chose to detox her off of the fellis, first. She could not make an honest decision until then. Would I have the reverse on my shoulders? Of a woman, under the influence, who took her life in the midst of a high?" Miska's laugh is mirthless, and yet, his eyes remain, cold, on Madilla. "I know it will not be the popular decision and I will see the consequences, but I would not go back. I would not." His gaze breaks and drops, to where his left hand is drumming against his knee. "Equal treatment." During this, Madilla does not take any notes. Instead, she sets down her stylus, pushes away her papers, and simply listens. If her breath catches, if her eyes widen, she at least manages not to interrupt until the other healer has made his explanation. Then, on an exhale, her admission: "On paper, I respect the decision. But in practice? Miska... we do not choose who lives and dies. The right to die is ingrained - deeply ingrained - in Weyr life. To force a person to live after their dragon has gone, if they don't want to? That's torture." Now she's emotional, voice shaking at the end. "No. In that you are correct. We do not choose, but would we let a mother, grieving for her lost child, take her life? A husband grieving for his wife? Do we stop them at murder, for the right reason? How can we make such concessions knowing the consequences?" Miska, now, reveals the tiniest bit of irritation, but reigns it in and sits up straighter in his chest, one ankle crossing over the opposite knee. "We cannot make sacrifices for one and not the other. How is that ethical? How is that right? Take the boy from Fort, whose dragon died. He chose to live, and how do we know Teris would not have, if she was sober?" Madilla's brows knit, her own expression taking on a harder aspect; she sucks in a breath, holds it, and then finally exhales. "Do no harm," she says, then, very quietly. "That's what they teach us, isn't it? Do no harm. Forcing a woman who wishes to die to stay alive; that's harm. That's torture. Teris and Iskiveth had been together nearly fifteen turns. The boy at Fort - they had only weeks. It changes you. It's not like the bond between man and woman, mother and child. If you can't grasp that, after the turns you've been here..." She pauses, and then straightens. "I don't believe the Weyr is the right place for you." Miska is quiet; he listens without interrupting. It is at the end that he allows some gravity to enter his expression, his shoulders set. "I do not believe it is and I do not anticipate that to be an issue much longer," with his head tipping forward briefly. Repercussions are inevitable, and at least he seems knows what he is about to be up against. "No," agrees Madilla, after a moment's pause. "I don't imagine it will be. However, I should also note that I will be formally requesting that your contract with High Reaches be cancelled, and that until such time as the Hall makes their intentions known, I won't have you working in my infirmary." Those green eyes are steady. "As you will." Miska shifts in the seat, leg dropping to join the other, and scoots to the edge, his palms handling the arms. "I can understand your reticence. Will that be all?" He's looking at Madilla, expectant; he also looks slightly relieved. Madilla, in contrast, looks almost - well, disappointed, though it's clearly with Miska as a whole, rather than his reaction (or perhaps that's just the easiest way to read it; this is Madilla, after all). She pauses, mouth slightly open, as if there's something else she'd like to say; in the end, she shakes her head. "That's all," she says. "I'm sure the Hall will be in touch shortly." "I am sorry it went this way. You put too much faith in me, hm?" But rather than sounding, or looking, upset about that, Miska has his poker face back on. He hefts himself out of the chair, shaking out his trouser legs when he's back to his full height. "Have a nice day, Madilla." He touches fingertips to his forehead and makes for the door, where his hand stills on the knob. "I hope everyone finds clarity," is his departing remark, green eyes sliding back to Madilla in a last touch. Madilla can't help the wince that follows those first two sentences; she lifts her gaze, green eyes following Miska as he moves. "Clarity," she repeats, and this time she's got a wry, semi-bitter laugh. "Clarity." It says something, no doubt, that she can't think of anything else to add-- not even the good wishes that would usually be so quick to come to her. Instead, she meets Miska's gaze, just for a moment, and shakes her head. It won't be until he's closed the door behind him that she allows her shoulders to droop, and kicks her foot against the solid leg of her desk. |
Comments
K'zin (02:15, 24 December 2014 (EST)) said...
<3
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