Logs:Fixing Things
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| RL Date: 16 January, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: W'chek comes to visit with flowers and congratulations. Madilla takes certain matters into her own hands. |
| Where: Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 10, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, T'rev/Mentions |
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| Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr This small cavern has the crisp smells of a recent cleaning for its new resident. The furnishings are sparse, and the walls are bare except for several baskets of glows which provide a cozy atmosphere. A small table and two chairs sit across the room from the bed which is covered with fresh linens. At the foot of the bed is a battered wooden press for the occupant's belongings. A few small touches are all the room needs now to make it more homey. Were W'chek to have asked at the Infirmary, he'd have been told that Madilla's current schedule involves a mix of day and evening shifts, and that today's is set for the evening; if not, of course, well, it's convenient timing: the healer is in. This particular late afternoon - a dreary one, not boding well for the evening's meteor shower watching party - finds her with the very beginnings of a quilt laid out over the small table, her head lowered intently over the work, her mouth pursed in concentration. That, W'chek might just have done, as the bronzerider, having a free afternoon himself, shows up rapping at her door with the assertive sort of knock of someone who expects the occupant to be in and available. "Madilla?" the soft question from the other side, the voice easily recognizable. That gentler, talking-to-someone-fragile tone he's always reserved for her and few others here. Then, after a slight delay, "I'd heard there was a journeywoman healer hearabouts." There's not /much/ sound coming from within Madilla's room - sewing being a relatively silent occupation - but the pause that follows W'chek's knock and comment might almost be loud enough to be heard anyway. It's followed by the careful scraping back of a chair, and a moment later, the door opens, Madilla's face - with wide, surprised eyes - visible in the glowlight. "W'chek?" Like she still can't entirely believe that it's him, standing there, on her doorstep. It's apparently /so/ surprising that she doesn't even have a flush to her cheeks, the kind that usually displays itself at reference to her new rank. Not only W'chek, but W'chek with flowers. Although not any kind of ostentatious display--a small arrangement in a glass vase held awkwardly with both hands like he expects to either drop it or squeeze it so tight it shatters at any moment. Extended to her right off--it will clearly be safer in her hands. "I, uh, just heard. Well, a couple days ago, but I didn't have free time until today to come by. Say, um... hello?" No, that's not quite right. "And congratulations. And so on." /Flowers/. Madilla's eyes go wider still, but surprise doesn't stop her from reaching out to accept the arrangement - perhaps that's instinct taking over - and then, once they're safely in her hands, taking half a step backwards. "Did you want to come in? There's-- some chairs. To sit. Though I don't have anything to serve." Then, hastily, "The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. And for visiting. And-- thank you. It's good to see you." As W'chek comes into the room, he shakes his head--"No, s'fine, I don't need anything anyhow. I don't mean to stay long." Though at least long enough to be worth coming in, taking one of those offered chairs. He's cleaned up pretty well, definitely not dressed in what he wears to drills or sweeps. "Nice place. Cozy. Lot better than a dormitory, anyway, that's for sure. How's it suiting you? All this responsibility and whatnot." He may not need anything, but Madilla clears enough space on the table for the flowers, and once she's set them down, clears the rest of her quilting from the table as well, leaving a nice empty space between them when she takes her own seat. "It is, isn't it?" she agrees, warmly: it's something solid and safe to talk about. "I've never had my own space before... it still feels rather empty. Quiet. But I like it." She presses her hands together in front of her, watching W'chek over the table, and then adds, "I like it all. But it'll take some getting used to, I imagine. How-- are you doing?" "You'll fill it up with nice things in no time. S'why I thought maybe you could use something nice." W'chek indicates the flowers with one hand. His own idea, even! A beam of a smile for that. So very proud. Probably someone else's arrangement, though, as they're all nicely cut and the colors match. That might have been asking a bit much. "I'm... well enough. Things are fine. Been quiet, lately. Happy enough when it switches over to snow and we stop getting so much rain, 'course." "They /are/ lovely," declares Madilla, with fervent warmth to her tone: she's positively beaming. Flowers! For her! In her own /room/! "It's a rather dreary time of turn, isn't it?" she adds. Down to the weather already; it doesn't bode well for this particular conversation, really. "All the rain. But you can head to warmer, drier places easily, at least. I got to visit Nerat, a few days ago. The warmth was just... lovely." A nod of agreement. "Dreary's a good word for it. Yeah." W'chek sits back in the chair, pulls a foot up onto one knee, keeps hold of it at the ankle like it might slip away. "Don't usually like to travel so much, but we've been down further south a few times. Found somebody as could do some nice things. They do good glass-work, down towards Ista." Pause. "I thought you deserved something, well, nice. Pretty. Now that you've got a place to keep pretty things." Drum of fingers. "End up with a lot of rest days that don't match up with B'tal's. Seemed like a good way to keep busy." Madilla probably hadn't paid the vase much notice, being rather more distracted with the flowers, but she takes a good look now, and seems even more pleased for the effort. "Thank you," is her murmured response, beginning to sound, now, like a broken record. "Thank you for thinking of me." It may even be that /that/ is making her even more pleased than the gift itself. "I'm sorry. That your rest days don't match up. I saw B'tal just after I arrived home. He seemed... well?" "He's... well." More agreement. W'chek reddens slightly just for that much mention of his weyrmate, but muddles through it anyhow. "Things are good. I think. Good. Happy." Pause. "Be easier if I could take him home, but, heh, like that's gonna happen." Forced lightness there. Isn't that an amusing joke! "He's holding up in his wing... kinda better than I thought he would, actually. And I'm doing okay in mine. At least, nobody's tried to hit me lately." Wry smile. In contrast, Madilla seems unperturbed: W'chek has a weyrmate. A male weyrmate. What of it? Such a good little holder girl she is. Only not really. "I'm glad," is her genuine comment, on how things are going, though her smile fades distinctly at the forced lightness that follows. "Oh, W'chek," she breathes. "I'm sorry. I wish--" Something that doesn't need - or perhaps just get - words. Whatever it is, it seems to encourage her resolve in saying what comes next, which is rather surprisingly determined given the actual words. "I was going to ask you both to come over, one evening. For... dinner, or something. There's something I wanted to discuss with you. At some point. If you're free. Sometime." It does sort of fade off at the end, though, awkward. He waves off that 'sorry' immediately--"No, no. It's fine." Fine, fine, W'chek is always fine. The latter, though, taking him back away from that blushing territory, is seized on like a drowning man seizes a raft--"Oh? Dinner would be nice. You know. Old time's sake and all that, if nothing else." He pauses before the rest of it sinks in. "Discuss? I mean, I'm here now. I don't think food's necessary for talk. Exactly." Madilla's gaze narrows: it's not fine, and she'd argue it, but that's not - exactly - the kind of thing she does too much, and anyway, there's that other topic to stammer over. It has /her/ blushing, now, which means it can't be altogether safe; her gaze ducks towards the table. "I--" she begins. And then, "Well--." Sometimes, words are hard. Luckily, tables are harder and don't collapse under the force of someone's gaze. "I want to fix things. And I think I can. Make things easier. Now that I've walked the tables." At least most of them don't collapse like that, anyway. W'chek might have downed a few himself, were that the case. He does not, obviously, have the faintest clue where she's going with this. "Fix things? With us--there's really nothing to fix, Madilla. I didn't do it because I don't like you or anything. It's okay, isn't it? Maybe it's hard, but that'll pass. With time." "No--" Madilla doesn't quite have the words for that either. "I know that. No. That's not... it." She looks up, finally, shaking her head. "You wanted a family. Want. And that's why you did it. And that's--" Yeah, this is going /really/ well. Totally fixing things, Madilla, with the great slab of awkward that's dropping into everything right about now. "Delifa asked me to wait six months or so, but after that, I still-- I was going to ask if you and B'tal still wanted--" Her gaze is kind of imploring at this point: come on, work it out. Don't make me finish this. "Of course I still want--" W'chek may be a bit on the slow side sometimes. He's a guy. Comes with the territory. But there's 'slightly dim' and 'complete idiot', and he isn't quite that far gone. A light just went on, there, eyes starting to narrow with the thought. "You always deserved more than that. I sold you too short. There has to be somebody--" Here? "--well, anyway, maybe you won't be posted here forever." Not the response she was looking for, but at least he /got/ it eventually. She looks... disappointed. "I'm posted here for now," is her quiet response. "I don't see that changing for a while. It--" She shrugs her shoulders, finally, lets them drop. "In six months, I'm going to get someone to give me a baby. If it's not you - or B'tal - then I've had other offers. Fort's Weyrleader, for one." She's treading a fine line between sounding determined and outright dispassionate. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I don't even know--" "Fort's--" Eyes really wide there. "Are you *crazy*?" That probably wasn't the best way to phrase it, but to call W'chek surprised would be putting it very mildly. "I mean--Fort? What were you doing with--never mind. I don't mean it that way." Although there was that momentary note of suspicion. "A child needs a father. I don't have to tell you that. But I, what kind of influence--" He swallows hard. "It's not that I don't, didn't, want that. I mean, the way Bety's eyes lit up when he mentioned Ebeny, but it's not like he can--" Another sentence cut off. He's doing a lot of that. "Don't you think you deserve somebody who, I don't know. Loves you?" "We've run into each other a few times. I looked after a cut for him. He offered. That's all." Madilla's not offended by the implications implicit in W'chek's response; actually, she leans back, arms crossed, and simply watches him, waiting. "I never expected to marry someone I loved, W'chek. Perhaps it would be nice. I wouldn't turn down being loved. Of course not. But... I'm a realist. And I want a baby." W'chek sputters over the word, "But--" for a few moments, unable to come up with more than that right away, then leans forward towards her. "I know you didn't, but that's what I--I mean, at least then you can grow to. And the baby, he--or she--needs a father, not just someone who offers you that in exchange for a night with you. Not someone who's going to have a dozen different women with his children scattered who-knows-where." His opinion of riders is just so stellar. "And it's not that I wouldn't, but what kind of influence would I be? With B'tal and--" All that. "And I won't just be a means to an end." Rather prim, that last. Madilla's brows raise crookedly as W'chek carries on, but her expression is otherwise calm - even serene, somehow. "Well, of course you wouldn't be. Don't you see? And B'tal. That's what I would want: both of you. Father figures. Because I don't care about the two of you. But I think it would make you happy. And I know it would make you happy." She hesitates, and then adds, "You don't have to decide today. As I said, I promised Delifa: six months, at least." "Six months," W'chek repeats, muses over it for a moment, fixes his eyes briefly on his hands. Then back to her. Deep breath. "Both of us." Pause. "I would have to ask him. I mean--he deserves to know. So I'll ask?" Yeah, that's a huge barrier, there. B'tal being very much the disapproving partner. Yeah. "You know I'd be honored." There, finally. Something in the way of an acceptance. Both of them. She bobs her head into the faintest of nods, followed by a firmer one: /both/. But even just mention of /asking/ seems to be enough that a smile begins to extend across her features. "I know you would," she says, finally, simply. "I'm glad. Of course..." Laughing, "I suppose there's always the chance I /will/ find someone before then. But. I doubt it. So. We can work out... how. Then. Pending B'tal, of course." That might be what keeps this from flooding over into outright glee. Keeps W'chek down to a resigned smile. "Of course. No. If there's someone else... there should be someone else. But only if he's going to treat you right, Madilla." For W'chek's narrow definition of right treatment, of course. He puts both feet back flat on the floor. "Pretty sure the 'how' hasn't changed for at least a few thousand years now." "Should I parade any potentials in front of you, just to make sure?" laughs Madilla, who seems far, far more relaxed than she has been with W'chek possibly ever, now, in the wake of all of this. "Make sure he's not--" But not quite relaxed enough to actually /say/ 'make sure he's not gay'. "I didn't mean... Just. It won't be a-- physical problem?" /Now/ she's blushing. So much for relaxed. "Me being..." "A good person. Should be a good person." Aside from not being gay, which should go without saying, because... Oh, yes. That. W'chek swallows, then clears his throat. "Figure out some way to manage," is the only clarification he's going to give at this point. "Was going to figure out some way to manage anyway, wasn't I? It'll be all right. Six months. That's not so long. Zhikath's nearly two. Time flies. Are you--planning on doing most of this yourself?" The question asked very suddenly after that musing. "The nannies here are, well, I'm not sure I'd trust them." "I'd only want a good person," agrees Madilla, quietly, with a faint little smile still pressed into her face. Her hands slide from the table and into her lap, crossing there, fingers twining between each other. She seems to accept his answer to her question without pressing - well, she probably doesn't want to know, really, let's be honest - confirming with only a nod. "Time does fly. Six months is easy. It was going to be longer - if they'd waited until I was twenty." Her answer to the last question is made with a firm, sharp shake of her head: "The nannies are good people. But I want-- as much as I can, I'll do it myself. I think that's important." Was probably going to be way longer for W'chek, after all, but he just nods. "Easy," he repeats after her. Smiles a little again. "Important. Yeah. That's good." Then he moves to stand up again. "I should go talk to him. B'tal. I should--" Take a deep breath, W'chek. Right. That. Easy does it. "He'll want to know, anyway." As W'chek moves to stand, so does Madilla, drawing herself from her chair in a single, smooth motion. "No-- of course. You should. Talk to him." Even the thought of that seems to be enough to make her smile, not quite jubilant, but definitely not far off it, either. "Thank you. It was-- good to see you." You know. Obviously. "Yes. Good." W'chek is safe with small sentences, there. He can finish those. He takes a few steps in the direction of the door. "I don't want to say I hope you don't find anyone. I do." He's said that enough so far, right? "But maybe this can be good. For all of us. You know I'll do right by you. Whatever it takes." As long as he's not expected to change diapers or anything. Madilla stays where she is, leaning one hand against the back of her chair, the other hanging lose at her side. "I think so, too," she says, simply. "And I know you will." Diapers aside. It's a good thing she was raised knowing what was man's work, and what was woman's. "Say hello to B'tal for me, will you?" While W'chek does make it to the door, he doesn't stay there; he crosses back, goes to put one arm around Madilla's shoulders, squeeze. Side hugs. Still chaste. "I'll do that. Sure he'll probably be down here next time he's free shrieking and wanting to do your hair or something." Such a charitable opinion of his weyrmate, but at least it's an affectionate tone. "I'll see you... later. Anyway. Take care." Then it's back to let himself out. So chaste. Given Madilla has given rather more-- overwhelming hugs to plenty of people. But she accepts this one in good grace, and seems to expect no more. One of her hands reaches to touch W'chek's, just for a moment, then lets go again. "I'll look forward to it," she laughs, though her head shakes just slightly. "Yes. Later. I will. You, too." Too many words. So she closes her mouth, and watches him go. And smiles. Smiles, and smiles, and smiles. |
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