Logs:Healer, Heal Thine Self
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| RL Date: 4 May, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Tess |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tess comes to ask Hattie to intervene when the she's told she's being sent back to the Hall. Hattie has her reasons and the wisdom of experience; Tess has feelz. |
| Where: Sanctuary, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: A bit of angst. |
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>---< Sanctuary, Fort Weyr >-------------------------------------------------<
Once a complete weyr, buried beneath the mudslide, this awkwardly-shaped
chamber has now been cleaned up and protected from the elements by a set
of proper doors where the ledge might have been. It's a cozy little spot,
all funny little shelves and nooks in the warmly-painted walls, various
ornaments sat in each space in the wall, from collections of tealights to
elaborate carvings.
A third of the cavern is occupied by a large, rectangular storage unit
fronted by glass to make a counter-top, behind which lie a series of
wooden shelves stacked with crockery and various bottles, a proper yet
small built-in oven and a short, stocky cupboard. A selection of cakes,
biscuits and pastries are usually available throughout the day, set out on
the countertop alongside a board detailing the variety of warm drinks
available. Small groupings of mismatching furniture sit scattered
throughout the remaining free space, lending the place a quaint, homely
air. Usually on-duty is Molly or Joy, kitchen girls known for their baking
skills. Early afternoon finds much of the Weyr's traffic heading in the direction of the living cavern, though some choose to avoid the hustle and bustle of the midday meal to seek out quieter corners. One of these people is the Weyrwoman, who has settled in the newly reopened Sanctuary, a mug of tea and a well-buttered slice of something that looks like herb-infused bread sat on the small table to the right of the seat that she's chosen to occupy. She's sat towards the back of the room, near those doors, and looks to be actively trying to relax or focus, Hattie's eyes closed and her hands folded loosely in her lap, breathing slow and even. This space is not conducive to agitation, with its warm colors and coziness, and yet that is just how Tess looks when she appears. She hasn't looked well-rested since before the storm, but now her eyes are a little red and puffy rather than just darkened beneath. She comes in with haste and stops almost immediately inside to scan the room; she's a woman on a mission. She rocks back on her heel, as if this was an unsuccessful stop, and then her eyes find Hattie and she freezes. She takes an unsteady breath before approaching the woman. "Weyrwoman Hattie," she addresses as she draws near, "A moment of your time?" She requests, almost formally, but with enough emotion in her vulnerable eyes that this is request is certainly of a personal nature, even if it may also be professional. Hattie opens her eyes the very second that she hears footsteps, tension finding the line of her shoulders just as her hands fold together before tightly, her whole posture undergoing a transformation in less than a moment. Centred by the time that she looks at Tess, her study of her is steady, even as she takes in all those signals that she's plainly not very okay at all. Addressed thusly, she maintains that formality herself, inviting, "Please," with a brief gesture towards the chair opposite. Any instinct to the contrary is suppressed, though it leaves crescent-shaped marks across the back of her left hand. Tess glances toward the seat indicated and seems to weigh taking it a moment before she moves to do so. "Ma'am, I need your help," she begins in the tone of one who doesn't know where else to turn. "I know you're a very busy woman and have a lot of other responsibilities, but..." She stares at the small table that the Senior's food and drink occupy, "They want to send me back to the Hall. For retraining and support. I don't--" She doesn't want to go, but is that professional to admit? She stops herself, biting her lip, fingers finding each other in her lap to interweave lest they give away more of her emotional state without her say so. Hattie looks away for a moment when it becomes apparent what Tess wishes to discuss, but she doesn't allow herself to not meet her gaze for long. "...They wish to send you back temporarily," she stresses, "because it is, in all likelihood, the best course of action with your professional development and personal methods of coping in mind. It isn't out of unkindness, or as a punishment. Nor does it suggest that you've failed." Needing to do /something/, she reaches for her tea and takes a long drink. "Can you tell me that you're entirely happy with the way that things have gone since your arrival?" "I haven't even been here a whole turn. Of course it suggests that I failed, or was found wanting," Tess disagrees, her tone not quite despairing, but not far off. "Of course I'm not entirely happy, but I'm not-- It's my first posting outside of the Hall. I know I still have things to learn, but I should be able to do that here, not sent back like an apprentice with an aptitude problem." She gives the goldrider a look that's more than a little desperate, "I just need time and patience. I can stay out of people's business," she likes to think, anyway. "I just... Will you talk to them for me, please?" Hattie glances down this time, contemplative, before she looks back up at Tess again. "...The thing about Halls and crafts is that it's common for apprentices and Journeymen to be moved around, often without anyone knowing exactly why. You remove a Lord or a Wingleader from their post and it's rather obvious that they were lacking in some way, or made a misstep." It sounds like idle musing, but the weight of her gaze says otherwise. "This - whatever you want people to say - could be turned to your advantage, if you don't take it as a slight." She shakes her head just a touch, not quite guilty in her next admittance. "I can't talk to them, Tess... because I already have, in a fashion. Concerning your retraining and a return to Fort." As with many young people, Tess almost certainly had an answer ready to fly to Hattie's first words, but upon hearing the last she is left quite thoroughly speechless. There's confusion on her face, and all she manages to get out, in a strangled voice is, "You have?" two words that are tinged with a tone of betrayal. In the face of accused betrayal, Hattie is stone, her features schooled to a careful blankness. However, it's not the same story for her voice, which she makes every effort to keep quiet and gentle, though she veers as far away from patronising as she can get, favouring frankness instead. "...Your superiors and I agree that you would be best equipped to handle situations such as those you've been faced with here with more training. It's... more the fault of timing than yours. Your posting coincided with more trying times than you might be prepared to face in a professional capacity. If I argued and simply let you carry on, can you say that I would be doing the right thing by you?" And then she asks: "What would you do for or ask of someone in your situation?" Tess's look of hurt doesn't diminish in the face of Hattie's practical words. Perhaps this mindhealer is not quite so put together as she always endeavors to appear. She listens, certainly, too well trained in that regard not to. "Where was my say in all this?" is what she answers, sounding already defeated. "I would have at least asked, let them feel in some way in control of their own destiny," though who really is? She shifts to get onto her feet. "Will you please excuse me, ma'am?" The formality is devoid of emotion of any kind. "I have to pack," carries a bitter lilt. Pack and sulk. Hattie tips her chin up a little as she asks, "You chose your craft, did you not?" She doesn't wait for an answer, and continues on to say, "Your wellbeing and ability are directly tied into those that you are responsible for looking after," is likely an unnecessary reminder. "If you care for them more than your hurt feelings, you should understand that your destiny is also tied into theirs. Your words and your reactions could send people down many different paths. Your say - your feelings are a component that you sometimes have to sacrifice." There's little effort made to contain her quiet sigh. "As it is... please let me know if you wish to return, when the time arrives. I'll be sure to withdraw my... interference, if you find yourself lacking the will to do so." This time, there's a chill to her own formality, disappointment clear. Tess is chastised by the goldrider's words, that much is clear from her expression, though the blonde doesn't seem to have found her way all the way to 'contrite.' Likely, there's more sulk coming before any kind of reason has a chance. "Yes, ma'am," she does answer clearly after clearing her throat slightly. Then she waits, like the patient, dutiful appren-- er, journeywoman that she's supposed to be, to be dismissed. "...I believe that Flint is on transport duty today, if you wish to make a swift departure. If not, it is Jasper's responsibility tomorrow. You might find Flint less... apt to show off with passengers." And then Hattie just looks away and picks up her mug, nothing further offered by way of dismissal. It's only if and when Tess takes that cue that she sets the mug down again and closes her eyes once more, tension unyielding. Looks like any chance of inner calm is gone. |
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