Logs:I Don't Think I Belong
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| RL Date: 12 October, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, Nehvien |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla probably doesn't really help Nehvien's concerns any. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 13, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, Sho/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup. The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes. It's late enough that the caverns are mostly deserted, and it's perhaps purposeful that the scrawny candidate can be found here. Nehvien is sunk within the bathing pools, his elbows braced against the edge to keep him afloat. His eyes are closed and he's perfectly still - one might almost suspect he's asleep, aside from the fact that he's not - for once - snoring. Madilla wouldn't usually be around at this hour, but the state of her dress (apron-covered, and more than that, /vomit/ covered) is a pretty good indication that it's work that has her here rather than the Craft Complex. The healer doesn't seem too concerned, despite her appearance-- though not so unconcerned that she doesn't hurry towards the bathing pools, stripping her dirtied apron as she walks. Nehvien's eyes snap open as he hears someone approaching, sinking a bit deeper into the water as he peers around. He catches sight of Madilla, and pauses - caught between the do-I, don't-I pause of acknowledgement. He takes such a long time that the decision is, pretty much, made for him anyway. Averting his eyes as the healer begins to strip, he clears his throat a little nervously. "Er, good evening, ma'am. You look, um, like you've been busy." Presumably, Madilla isn't unaware of Nehvien's presence, but the healer seems no more intent on acknowledging the candidate than he is-- at least, not until he actually speaks. By then, she's down to just the white shift she wears under the rest of her clothes, and /it/, at least, seems not to be coming off. "Oh-- good evening, Nehvien. It's--" And she looks rueful. "Been an adventure, I suppose." No doubt there's more to that story, but she avoids it in order to say, instead, "You can call me Madilla. We're not on duty, after all." "Oh." Nehvien seems surprised by that last, but dutifully allows it to pass. His eyes are still averted, and he runs a hand through his hair, wetting it a bit. "Can't say as I envy you, ma-- Madilla. Sometimes it feels like it's hard enough to um, look after myself, let alone other people." There's a hint of humor in the scrawny lad's tone, and he pauses a moment before adding, "Um, well. Guess Sho must've been taking that stuff you gave him. He uh, seemed much better when we um, went to Southern." Now as unclothed as she is, Madilla ducks herself into the water terribly quickly: a distinct display of holder modesty. For a moment, she's too busy to talk: ducking her face, her hair, /everything/ in water, to clean away the most of the vomit. As she emerges again, she picks up the thread of conversation as if there hasn't been a pause: she grins. "I admit, there are times I wish I could wash my hands of the whole lot of them, but-- I have a daughter. There's no such thing as that, then." For Sho, she adds, scrubbing herself with bare hands, "I'm glad to hear it. He's stubborn sometimes. How was Southern?" Nehvien, holder-bred as well, continues to keep his eyes averted, even after the sounds of Madilla's splashing entry into the water. "You have a um, daughter?" The lad's surprised - surprised enough that it draws his gaze towards the healer: "I didn't think you were that old-- I mean, not that you're old-- just um, you know. You don't seem like the um, like a mother, I guess." His stumbling attempts at correcting himself notably just get worse, and he finally just bites his tongue, looking sheepish. The change of subject is more than welcome, and he latches onto it gratefully. "Sometimes?" he echoes, with a wry sort of grin, which only widens. "Southern was-- um, amazing. I've never really travelled at all, other than around Crom and the Smithcraft, you know? Never been anywhere that hot, either. Don't think I'd much enjoy living there, but it was certainly um... interesting." Madilla pauses in her scrubbing to give Nehvien an amused, but somehow pleased, glance, as he draws his gaze towards her. She makes no attempt to respond until he's finished, though, during which time she's nodding along quite cheerfully. "High Reaches still seems too cold for me, sometimes; I was raised near Peyton, but closer to Boll than that, so it was warmer. But Southern? Or Ista? Or anywhere like that? I don't think I could live there. It's nice to visit, though, definitely - particularly during the winters here." She changes topic almost midbreath, continuing on without hesitation. "And yes, I have a daughter. She's nearly ten months old, now. If I'd stayed with my family, I'd probably have been married these five turns-- but I suppose by many standards, I'm still young for it. I don't know; it's what I've always wanted." Nehvien sinks himself a bit deeper into the water, enough to wet his hair, pushing it back from his face. He nods slowly - not particularly surprised at Madilla's admission of being raised as a holder. "I'd always wanted to go to Boll; the way everyone takes, it sounds like um, the place to go for a good Gather." A hint of wistfulness in his voice, though it's gone a moment later. "I don't mind the winters, myself. I can always find something to do, and Vivi rarely lets things get boring, either." With a reminiscent little grin, his gaze travels back towards Madilla. "What's her name? Who is the um-- is her father here, with you?" "If you're here next summer," Madilla notes, "There will be no shortage of people willing to show Boll to you-- or anywhere else, I imagine. I suppose it might be too far to fly straight, if you Impress, but by the end of summer..." She trails off, apparently working through the maths of it, though she doesn't pick it back up again. "Your sister sounds like a wonderful person; I think I'd like her. Lilabet is my daughter. Lily. Her father's a Greenrider. B'tal. He's weyrmated to my former fiancee." The expression on her face is rueful for the admission: she knows /exactly/ how that sounds. Moreover; "We're just friends." "Oh, no, I imagine I'll be back at Crom, you know. I've got um, work waiting for me there." Nehvien says with barely a pause, just matter of factly. At the thought of his sister, he gets more animated, rising up a bit from the water to gesture, "Oh, and she is-- Vivi, I think you'd like her. She's very um... tough. You know? Just asks for what she wants and gets it. Even though she's younger than me, it's kind of like she's er, older, I guess. I kind of... wish I was more like her, you know?" The lad's face goes thoughtful as he works through the intricacies of Lily's parentage. "Oh. I uh, I see." Even though he says it, it's apparent from his tone that he really -doesn't- get it, but neither does he pursue it further. "It's a very pretty name, Lilabet." Madilla seems more amused than anything, by Nehvien's matter-of-fact remark, though she does nod. Of Vivi, sounding pleased, "I can understand that. I'm glad for her: I think it's easier, when one is stronger. Better equipped to handle things. Will she come to the hatching, do you think?" Nehvien's reaction to Lilabet's parentage doesn't seem to surprise her; her addition remark is relatively neutral. "Weyrs are funny like that. I would have never considered having a baby with someone I wasn't married to, once upon a time, but-- weyrs don't mind these things. I'm glad of that. It would have been better, if I'd had someone special, but-- B'tal is a good father. And it /is/ a pretty name, isn't it? I'm terribly fond of it." Nehvien's lips twist wryly, as to the subject of his sister's attendance, he pitches his voice a tad higher: "It'd take a random Threadfall and a stampede of wild herdbeasts to keep her from coming." The way he says it is like he's quoting her directly. "Personally," he adds, his voice more normal, "I think she'd just like to come because she knows how much I'll squirm in um a candidate's robe, you know, nearly um... naked, I guess, out there in front of everyone. Probably trip, or something." If anything, the lad seems fairly resigned to it. His brow furrows a little at Madilla's description of Weyrlife; "So um, you just--" the question starts to tumble out before he can catch it, and when he does, he struggles to turn it into something else, flustered: "Um, yes it is very um, pretty." Madilla outright /laughs/ for Nehvien's first remark; her expression retains that amusement despite the awkwardness that follows. "I'm glad. I hope I'll get to meet her while she's here," is her remark on Vivi, accompanied a moment later by; "I'm sure it won't be that bad, though. You'll be fine." Her silent lasts a few seconds, intermingled with the motions of scrubbing and facewashing, before, very quietly; "We just-- engaged?" Her cheeks are flushed; she stares below the water rather than at Nehvien, though it doesn't stop her from explaining herself. "Yes. Just the once. We were lucky. I'm not sure if we could have done it a second time, if it hadn't worked. I suspect that means LIlabet will be an only child, unless I find someone." Someone /special/, her tone suggests. Husband material. "I've been, um, writing her, telling her about everyone here," Nehvien confesses. "She's very um, keen to meet everyone too, which frankly um, makes me a bit nervous." He offers a little sheepish grin. Back to reclining in the water, he's taken aback by Madilla's candidness. Wide-eyed surprise is followed quickly by averted eyes and a fair bit of colour on his part, too. "Well, that's-- that's--" he stumbles over what -that- is, and seems to flail at finding a suitable word to express his sentiment. "Well, I'm sure you uh, will. I mean, you're young, and um, you know, yes." His gaze darts towards the exit; he's got that -look-, like he wants to extricate himself from the conversation and isn't quite sure how to do it politely. Though Madilla's expression softens, and becomes distinctly amused, at Nehvien's further remarks on his sister, most of her reaction - particularly, as he continues - is turned towards ruefulness. Pink-cheeked ruefulness, most notably. "I'm sure she'll be fine," she ventures, finally, followed quickly by, "I'm sorry. I've made things awkward. Faranth knows I should know better than that-- please, don't mind me. I know what it's like. After six turns, I-- forget, sometimes." Nehvien clears his throat, hastily, and allays her concerns, no matter how on-the-mark they were. "No, no, it's um. Well, it's a Weyr, I should um-- expect it. Takes some getting used to, I guess," he says, gaze still directed safely at some spot across the pool. He's silent after that, so long that the faint confession that follows might be surprising: "I don't think I belong here. I mean, as a candidate." Madilla keeps her silence, though a slow nod marks her response to Nehvien's first remark. It's only later, after he's spoken again, that she opens her mouth once more. "You're not the first to say that." And, after a moment more. "I didn't feel like I belonged here when I was first posted, either. And--" Her mouth curves into a rueful smile. "W'chek? My ex-fiancee? He's from Nabol. He didn't think he belonged, either. But he Impressed Zhikath, and so, perhaps he is." Her gaze focuses in upon Nehvien as she says, finally, "If it's so bad as that, you could go home. Or perhaps you simply won't Impress, and then you /will/ just go home. No harm done." "Yes, but-- once you Impress, that's it, anyway. It's not like you can take it back." Nehvien's frowning a little, though mostly through distraction. His gaze finally drifts to Madilla, with a wry little smile. "Maybe," he allows. "Maybe I'm just um, tired. I think I'll uh... head to bed." He wades his way towards the steps. "Maybe you are," agrees Madilla, placidly, though not without a certain amount of knowing warmth. "It will be fine, Nehvien. I promise it will be. If W'chek has managed-- truly, it will be fine." She seeks his gaze for a moment, but doesn't linger: instead, she stares far beyond, letting him step out of the pool without any hint of impropriety. "Good night, Nehvien." Nehvien pauses, then nods - silently, and with a faint smile - perhaps not convinced - hurries out of the water. He's wearing shorts, and he heads straight over to grab a towel. "Night, Madilla," he tosses over his shoulder, before he hurries out the door. |
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