Logs:Escapes
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| RL Date: 31 August, 2015 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Ierne Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two old friends, discussing the weather. And, you know, other things. |
| Where: Ierne Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, B'ren/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Via/Mentions |
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| Why sit? Autumn at High Reaches, with snow no less, becomes springtime at Ierne. Vrianth flies, dizzyingly fast and sharp. Their passenger is offloaded. She can go as high as she likes, turn as hard as she wishes. Leova's with her, with her. There's no infirmary anywhere at all, no chance of injury, only the skies. Eventually, eventually there is the signal. Vrianth's persuaded down. She settles her rider with their belongings by a low, infrequented bridge not far from the Weyr proper. There, Leova can set up the picnic, can stay as long as she likes while Vrianth vaults again aloft. She can stay longer than she likes, because until then, Vrianth won't have to leave. Preliminary visits have long been made; Madilla's return to Ierne is to review progress, make suggestions, reiterate assurances. Visits like these, these days, are good distractions from the monthly news they follow, an interruption to routine and a chance to get away. There's plenty of time for Vrianth-time before her return, and when her footsteps do sound on approach to the bridge, there's no rush to them. "I ran into Tiriana," she reports, mildly amused by it. "I don't think she was much amused." The greenrider turns, the breeze ruffling hair that's still not cropped, dark auburn fading to rust at the tips. No warning from Vrianth, then, or perhaps she was with Vrianth even then. In moments her amber gaze is more human again, and she's smiling. "That streak still going? Why, this time." "I think she simply didn't expect to see me. It wasn't personal," hopes the healer, though she shakes her head and shrugs, dismissing it easily. Long legs lead her towards the greenrider, at which point she drops to a seat, glancing side-long at her friend. "I've not interrupted, I hope." "Mm." Leova's smile is one-cornered even before that 'personal,' that has her shaking her head quick-like. She doesn't hunt it down once dismissed. She leans back, her less-scarred hand supporting her, and that smile reappears as a full arc. "Wasn't even napping. Hungry? I've brought," an array. "Can't believe it's snowing already." Madilla stretches, arching her back as she does so. "Hungry, yes. Snowing... I'm not sure I want to think about it. It was summer, not that long ago. And then we come here, and..." It's damp and spring-like, but sunny. "The wonders of travel, I suppose, though I'm not minding doing less of it, either." "Mm." Again. Noticed less wasn't none. Though that might fall in with snow," the not-talking. Leova nudges the basket a little closer. Soft rolls with cheese baked right in, flakier types wrapped about miniature sausage and flecked with herbs, it's heavy on the wheat that had been shorted increasingly long ago. Rather than ask of Ierne, as though it had been dismissed along with its junior weyrwoman, "What's the news of Lilabet? Via's getting so close." Wearily, and not without a note of reluctant sadness, Madilla says, "There comes a time each month when it becomes obvious that avoiding between isn't... necessary." She presses her lips into something like a smile, and distracts herself, reaching for a roll, which gets turned in her hands. It's easier, to talk about her daughter. "Lilabet is in love. Or possibly lust. That boy of hers, the one she's been talking of? He took her for a dance. It's so strange, as they grow up. What are Via's plans, at the moment?" "Reckoned so," Leova says, but gently. If she tracks her cycle as her friend does, it's with the opposite bent. "Don't like to think of our littles and lust in the same breath. Dancing is fine. Dancing, got to get that sort of thing out somehow. Just hope she stays smart about it, takes after you." She takes one of the flakier of the rolls and starts picking it apart. Just turning isn't enough. "Via... it's like it'll all go on like this forever." Another thin-lipped smile is all the answer Madilla offers to that first; even the combination of Lilabet and lust is simpler than that. "I don't like to think of her as-- but she's sensible. She always has been. Via will be, too. It's... strange. Lilabet's had such a different upbringing to the one I had. I do worry. It isn't as though she can escape knowing that I have been with more than one man, or that I'd intended, expected, to have children when I was not much older than she is now." "Will she?" is more wistful than anything. Via, and Vrianth... "Aye." The greenrider pulls her knees up. Knees clad in trous, no less. She begins to drop little crumbs of crust atop one of them, a miniature hill-on-a-hill. "Funny. The place you are, a Weyr, more than one. So different than the Hold, the children you would have had young. And not wanting for her either of those. She hearing any slurs? Do hope not." Now, finally, Madilla actually bites into her roll, necessitating chewing (and swallowing) before she's in a position to answer, though those green eyes linger on the greenrider all the while. "She will," is firm. "I think she's heard... some things. There aren't all that many weyrbred children-- young people-- in her classes, and there are always those that will judge. She's confident, though. She's fine." Mostly fine. "It's strange to think that she might never end up living in a Weyr again. Might marry and have a family with a single person... all the things I expected, and never had." "If she's happy," Leova says suddenly, wistfully. "If that's what she wants, who she wants... and if he's good to her." It's the instinctive pronoun, and it's a moment before she catches it. "It would be 'he,' after all, out there. And Lilabet, of course. The boy. But not just Lilabet." She hesitates. "It is, isn't it? Still?" 'He.' For the girls. Interval doesn't make that much of a change... does it? "Mmm," agrees Madilla. "All of that. As long as it is what she wants. She does still talk of Impressing, but... she loves what she's studying, too. She has ambitions." It's after a pause that she adds, "Well, it's only been a he thus far, but who can know. I wouldn't... it would be fine." She thinks. Mostly. "I just want them to be happy. Safe. To make good choices." Mostly. Leova's unthinking nod's there too. "Definitely good choices." And then she's back to, "And studying. Learning. Something she can do that's not just helping with the..." She clears her throat. "Helping with the littles, the old folks, it's important, but it's not like harpering." She's taken on a rare blush. "Don't half know if we're talking about Via or Lilabet anymore. But. You know, you do know I don't mean to assume?" Green eyes consider Leova for a few long moments, and then Madilla smiles. "Either," she says. "And both. Daughters. I do know. Yes, of course I know." The forward tip of her chin acknowledges it further, as a trail of breadcrumbs is released from her hand and into the water below. Leova tilts her head, a nod that leaves it lowered. Instead of tossing her crumbs, she eats them, quickly. "Glad," she says first. "You said, Impression," second. "If something happens, as with Beastcraft... couldn't hardly afford to pay back any of that. We're not some Lord's, not me and Anvori, not you, not hardly anyone I know." The line of Madilla's mouth tightens. "Even on a Master's stipend," she agrees, "That's not something we could afford. I understand that they don't want to waste their time and marks on... but how many of us know at twelve what we want to do with the rest of our lives? If I'd been asked, at Lilabet's age..." Would she have accepted Search? Impossible to know, now. "The Acting Weyrwoman wishes to meet about encouraging people to have more children. More bodies, for future dragons." Leova's nodding, firmly, for wasting. It twists her mouth to think of it. "And yet," but she stops her interruption. The next words stop her. "Is it that bad?" She knows dragons. But the caverns... "I think..." Madilla pauses, mulling over her words as she reaches for another roll; one of the sausage ones, this time. "I don't think we're short now, but it's something to think about for the future. If the holds and crafts make getting candidates difficult. It's better-- easier-- if we've enough in our own caverns to sustain ourselves, in case." "With all the jumping that goes on, wouldn't have thought we'd be short at all, the greenrider says dourly. In answer, Madilla's smile is rueful. "In any case," she says, "You and I are probably role-models to the whole intended world order. Perhaps they'll parade us around as examples for others." Leova glowers at her, even if it does become a sigh. "Vrianth will save us," she says. Then, "Feels like such a... luxury, to be able to change your mind. Or to have a choice offered at all." "Vrianth to the rescue," smiles Madilla, though there's that seriousness lingering behind it, even so. "Mmm. It is a luxury. My family would have done well to have fewer children, I think, but it wasn't..." She presses her lips together, sucks in a breath through her teeth. "I'd not want the Weyr to push too hard, no matter what." "'It wasn't'..." Leova hesitates after a quick shake of her head for pushing. "Don't think I ever asked," again that hesitation. "How many of them lived." "My aunt taught me herblore," is very quiet, Madilla's voice soft and sad and full of recollection. "She knew how to end a pregnancy, but it didn't always work, or work well. And besides... they didn't all live. A lot of them didn't. A lot of it could have been prevented, too, if only they'd known how." She glances up, glances at Leova. "And the mothers, too. At least the Weyr knows how to care for them all." "Knows how and does." Leova's quiet for a little while. "I'm sorry about them, those as didn't, your family. Your aunt who helped, who tried to help. When it don't work well.." "So am I," says Madilla. "I suppose that's another special project that some healer should work on, as a life's work, though I don't imagine many in my family would have listened. Never mind." She pushes her expression back into a smile. "At least for the women at the Weyr, we can make sure that if they choose to have babies, they're well looked after, and the babies too, once they arrive." "Making sure it works?" Leova double-checks, if diffidently. "But yes. Always going to be grateful for the nannies." Grateful for, uncomfortable with, both true. "How are your... well, 'the' apprentices, but still. Your apprentices, how are they looking?" "Making sure it works, making sure there's knowledge and awareness... education." Madilla dusts her crumb-covered hands off, glancing off towards the distant ocean. "I don't really know any of the apprentices anymore. It feels very strange. Mine have all walked the tables, or been sent back to the hall. There are fewer at High Reaches, now. Because of me, probably." Leova nods at that, at all of that, until the dust forms its little clouds andfalls. Then her brows knit. "Because of you?" "We had unusually high numbers of apprentices because I was considered good with them," explains Madilla, glancing back at her friend. "I don't think our new Weyrhealer is quite as much that way inclined." Oh. Leova's brows have risen. "Madilla," quietly appreciative. "Do you think, after your baby," because that will happen... won't it? "You might seek to come back?" Madilla's smile is appreciative for that confidence, if a little tired, too. "I suppose that depends on what my superiors think. I certainly won't be able to travel for a while, will I? And it would be nice." Her exhale is fond and nostalgic and wistful. "We'll see." "Hope so. It's been," Leova gets a focused look, quick calculations. "Shells, nigh on two Turns already." "Month ten," agrees Madilla. "It's a long time. I suppose it's better than if they'd simply posted me back to the Hall... I'd have even less time at home, then. Still." Still. "And you've doing marvelous things, things nobody else was. And if you want to do that, that would be one thing." Leova would support her, would keep supporting her. Madilla presses her lips together. "It's important work," she says, non-committal, though it's plain from her expression that she's turn; that all of this is difficult, for her. She glances back at Leova. "And you. The wing, the dragonhealing. The children, growing up. What next?" "Might be important work someone you trained could do." But Leova's deferring to the other woman there. For the rest, "Wing. Well. Getting tired of drilling for," how much to say about Taikrin's purpose? "Looking impressive," she settles for. "Well. Being. Also letting my hair grow out, some." Which she's done before, lately, occasionally, only to hit a bad spot and cut. "Treinan's too young. He doesn't have the..." Gravitas? Madilla doesn't have the word, and gives up in order to concentrate on Leova's update. "Time for a change of wing, then? Change of hair, change of wing, change... change." Leova clears her throat. Treinan. "Maybe," she says quickly. "Maybe. I haven't decided yet. Especially with, well. We don't know, do we? What will happen? Maybe, won't be K'del. B'ren, or someone from outside, someone as who'll bring his own men. One thing with Taikrin, she protects her own." Madilla presses her lips together. "We don't even know if it'll be Irianke or Farideh," she allows, brushing more invisible crumbs from her skirts. "And you're right: it could be someone from Igen, or someone wholly unconnected. Anyone. It's not the time to make sudden moves, I'll grant you that, and it could be a turn or more before we know. It's... difficult, knowing that change is coming, but not knowing when or how." "Aye." Leova shudders, or is it shivers, wrapping one arm about herself. "Don't need any more Igen as we have already." Though... "Anywhere you want to go, Madilla? 'Fore we got to get back." Madilla hesitates, and then, suddenly, there's a proper smile; a blossoming one. "Do you remember that beach we walked along?" she says, abruptly. "That day, after Satiet died, all those turns ago? We picked up shells." It's evidently a day for nostalgic moods. It takes a moment. Then, "Think I can find it," Leova says, buoyed by such blossoming out of slower uncertainty. "At least," there's the one-cornered smile, "somewhere connected to it. 'Less you want to wait until it's been a full-fledged twenty?" "Twenty," Madilla all-but-breathes, as if she can't possibly imagine it having been that long, though it has been, must have been. "We should try and find it, today. On the twenty... it won't just be us still remembering, but still. We should. To be ready, for then." Leova slants a look at her, an amber-eyed look, a bright look. "Let's do," she agrees, and stands with more, but not a whole lot more, difficulty than she'd back then have done. She can gather up their things, Madilla too if need be. And besides, Vrianth will like it. |
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