Logs:Nice Segue(s)
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| RL Date: 24 December, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Madilla both have things to share. It makes for surprising conversation. |
| Where: Madilla's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 8, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Leova/Mentions, Raija/Mentions, Y'rel/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Vrooooooooooom. |
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| Madilla's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr Larger than most of the quarters in the Complex, this suite is made up of three distinct rooms, all rough-hewn but of a reasonable size. The main room is a living area, largely filled by a table with several chairs, as well as a small desk. Beyond, the two further rooms are both bedrooms, the larger one filled by two single beds, whilst the other, smaller, contains a double bed, one that fills most of the available space. Rag rugs cover the floors throughout all three rooms, while heavy quilts provide both insulation and decoration, hung from the walls. Certainly not all the craft complex is asleep at this hour - it's not so late as that, not yet - but the place is quieter. That in itself has already influenced H'kon to be on the stealthier side, once he's taken his leave of Arekoth and is making his way through the buliding. Add to this the knowledge that the children will be asleep, and once the brownrider reaches the door, he takes off his boots, holds them carefully, ready to proceed sock-quiet. Even the latch of the door is moved cautiously, slowly. If not for those few whiskeys with Y'rel prior to arrival, he'd probably admit this is not entirely necessary. Also, Arekoth might not be so easily edging him on, from afar. Oh well. Having had part of the evening to herself to (pace; worry; put explanations together in her head; imagine possible responses; worry some more) indulge herself, Madilla is predictably sitting at the little table when the latch lifts, and glances up from her sewing to meet the arriving brownrider. If her face is a little pale (and it is), well, the shadows cast by the lamp sitting beside her cover most of it. H'kon maintains the general sneakiness up to the point where he looks up and catches sight of Madilla. Sneakiness fail. For a moment, the brownrider's expression falters, switching between Arekoth-influence and the mourning of foiled plans. But H'kon's not had so much to drink as to think this manoeuvre all-important. He stands straighter, even wiggles his toes in his socks, and offers a wan smile her way. But he still approaches, first, before speaking in hushed, faintly whiskeyed tones, "I'd not wake them." Boots are hefted lightly. "They'll sleep," promises Madilla, though it's not like her voice is all that louder than H'kon's, if at all. She gestures towards the other chairs in invitation, and then wonders, "Do you need something to help you sober up?" Her sewing gets folded up between careful holds, needle carefully secured into one corner of the will-one-day-be-a-quilt. There's no chide to that question, though, and her smile is as warm as ever... even if there's something strained about her eyes. H'kon goes to those other chairs quite willingly, biddable, it seems. The boots are set down with excessive care, and no perceptible noise. When he looks up, "No," in that same hushed voice, fingers waving at the air. "No, this was not like the previous wing gathering." You know, the one when she may have heard him giggle at something his dragon said right when things were getting heated. Perhaps that's to blame for a sheepish look, followed by one pointedly serious. "A couple glasses only." Madilla's nod quickly follows H'kon's answer, accepting it at face value without pause. If she's remembering that previous incident, well, at least she's not letting it show. More likely, she's simply too distracted. "Good," she says. "Not that I object to you drinking, of course, but..." She presses her hands flatter to the table, and then straightens. "Leova asked me to do something for her, back when she took me out for my turnday." That she blurts it out, that it comes before she's even asked how his evening was, probably says something about her thoughts on the subject. Something in 'your drinking' itself has H'kon's brow knitting, not indignant, but... something. Something that doesn't last much longer, working instead into focused listening. Oh, his brow is still knit of course, but now it's in a more usual way, the cautious or concerned way that is true to H'kon. If the directness has triggered some of the latter, it's kept wordless, at any rate. After what is hardly a pause, he feels it necessary to prompt, "And that was?" Yes, this is going well. Madilla's cheeks go, abruptly, from white to pink. "She's asked me to... foster a family member of hers. A little girl who isn't wanted by anyone. I'm not asking for you to... but I can't let her go on being unwanted." She stops; she waits. H'kon is looking entirely sober now. His forehead is still creased. And he watches Madilla. And he says nothing. Nothing immediately. Nothing even after a pause. He'll surely come up with an answer, depending how long she'll let this go on. Madilla opens her mouth, like she's got lots more to say-- only she falters. Her cheeks burn. At some point, somewhere, H'kon becomes cognisant of the extended silence. "You'll forgive me," comes out all in a rush, his gaze refocusing to the table, where his fingers have gripped the edge - just a moment, then back up to Madilla with a forced smile. "I'd not expected- only you'd said-" He presses his lips into a line. "I'd not thought it to be just mine." And he's trying a few careful nods, and looking more or less back at the table in no time. Madilla's expression is tight, and not especially revealing, except that she's obviously not overwhelmed with joy at this particular reaction... even if she's clearly not surprised. "I know," she says, simply. "And I meant it. I didn't... I couldn't say no, H'kon, even if it wasn't the plan. But I'm the one who said yes. I don't expect or require or... you don't have to." It's just a flickering of other emotions before H'kon sets his face into that frown its lines know so well. It's more the flick of his fingertips as they release the table, the heavy fall of hands into his lap. It's not enough to rock the chair back or skid it away. "Madilla," winds up the best he can manage just now, tiny facial muscles twitching as everything else stays neatly in his head. Madilla exhales. "I'm sorry," she says. "You don't have to say anything. I've... done this all wrong. I'm sorry. Forget it. How was your night?" Now, she's lifted her hands from the table, but only so that she can wring them, fingers twisting about each other, rather matching the wretched expression upon her face. "Madilla," firmer now, and not without that worn edge of frustration that long-term relationships can impart. That sort of address should be followed up by instant explanation, but H'kon takes a bit more time to try gather his thoughts, the muscles of his jaw working beneath the shadowing stubble. At least it's tightly controlled when he does get to, "You might at least speak clearly to me of whether this has changed your preferences regarding me. Unapologetically." Worn edge. That firmness just has the result of making Madilla look stricken... and then horrified. H'kon's clarification does not exactly help. "What?" she says, sounding bewildered. "What? No. Not unless it changes your preferences regarding me, and even then..." She looks more like she'll cry than that she'll suddenly denounce the brownrider. But at least she's not crying yet. "My preferences are little to do with the decision we came to," comes all out in quiet, overly-quick rush, the wry look (at the table) that follows them lasting much longer than the words themselves. A few risings and fallings of his chest, and when he raises his eyes again, his speech is more measured. "And if you still think it the right one, then I do not understand what it is you've-" He falls off, bemused. And it was going so well. Madilla, in contrast, just looks confused. "What?" she says, after a moment. "You mean you...?" Oh, Madilla. H'kon's chest and shoulders just keep doggedly on with the rising and falling in time to his breaths, coming a bit more frequently and deeply than strictly physically necessary for a man in his condition. But even with practiced frowny-featured censorship, some uncertainty manages to get to his face. If not to his voice in, "I understand it. It's fine." "Understand... understand what?" And then, maybe some kind of comprehension (or presumed comprehension) seems to come across her, because she abruptly straightens, and says, "Wait. Do you think that I want to do this because I don't want a baby with you?" H'kon seems ready to carry on, right until that. "I'd not thought that far," is probably the most frank piece of the conversation so far, at least on the brownrider's part. The 'is it?' is there in the look he gives her. At least there's relative stillness in his corner, now. Madilla's exhale is ragged; she's completely bewildered, now, and the look that she's giving H'kon is probably not making her seem any more calm. "I would want to take in this child regardless of any conversations we'd had," she says, which doesn't clear all that much up. "Because someone needs to. Every child needs someone to love it. I would love your child, and I will love this child." "That much I did not doubt." Maybe there was nothing to clear up. There. H'kon shifts, rolls his shoulders, and tries to settle further into stillness. It doesn't quite work, with fingers busying themselves again at the edge of the table, even if, this time, he manages a steady look to Madilla. "But still you would rather me as lover than father." Understanding, acceptance, all neatly packed. Again, Madilla's mouth opens. Abruptly, she seems to get the point. "No," she says. "I would have you as father of any child, in a moment. If you want to... I didn't - don't - want to pressure you into anything." She's no longer confused: her emotions are plainly written upon her face, leaving little doubt that her words are genuine. Her hands are flat upon the table again. And to that, even if his eyes have gone a bit wider, and he's lifted his head slightly, H'kon gives only, "Ah." He looks down to where his fingers press the table's edge, and flexes them in some established pattern. "It sounded like you thought you were too busy. I know the wing... I know you have other responsibilities." Madilla keeps talking, filling in what could be silence in a way that falls only a little short of manic. And then: "What do you want?" "Mm. And took wingsecond today." What might have been news, relegated to idle detail. There's no glass now for him to toy with, so he lifts his hands to the table, and rubs idly at that once-broken left wrist instead. The huff of a smile is directed mostly there, it would seem. "Everything, apparently." But H'kon shakes his head nonetheless. Surprise! Madilla's eyes go wide. "But that's-- oh, congratulations." All those other concerns are put aside and instead, she reaches across the table, leaning forward in the hopes of claiming one of H'kon's hands instead. "That's wonderful news." She, certainly, is not content to relegate such news to idle detail. And indeed, she can have one. He'll even hold her hand back. "Mm," confirmation again. "I'd talked to Y'rel about it a few days before," a strange look passes over his face, goes unspoken, "but we heard only tonight. Arekoth is still trying to tell some of the other dragons what to do. With varying success." And in that time, H'kon's managed to look past Madilla and toward the door, and all symbolically beyond. Or, at least, the brown dragon. Madilla makes the most of having that hand, squeezing it as though that will make up for all the confusion, misapprehension, and general communication ineptitude of this conversation thus far. Her smile is beaming. "I can imagine," she says, evidently pleased with the mental image. "I'm glad that they're recognising the work you've put in. You've earned it." She makes no remark on the fact that he's known for a few days; it may be because, after all, she's known about the whole small child thing for a few days. No hypocrisy here! H'kon is even willing to give a quick smile and nod to acknowledge her... well, acknowledgement. "I believe so," manages not to be a boast, but only because it's the brownrider saying it. As if he'd take a position for which he didn't feel entitled. Remember what happened last time he was forced into that? And from Madilla, his attention shifts toward the children's room. Maybe, he's just listening. Maybe it's simple as that. "You have," says Madilla, simply, though she seems relatively content to leave it at that, afterwards, turning her own head to listen towards that room. Then: "It's late. We'll work it out, okay? All of it. Together." She seems determined, now, to make it simple. And from the children's room, it's back to the main door. A quick glance at Madilla, if only to give a nod, and, "I may sit up a while." H'kon seems even to be settling, staring out at nothing (but brown), and it's abrupt when he asks, "The name?" More thoughtful, the rephrased, "Her name?" It's not, of course, that late, but Madilla accepts this nonetheless. She seems surprised, for a moment, by H'kon's question - and not much less surprised, when he clarifiies. "Raija," she says, as she releases his hand and rises. "She's a turn and a half old." "Hm," is not a committal sort of sound. But it comes with another of those curt nods, at least. He allows his fingers a trail after hers on its way out, but remains seated. At least, well until Madilla's left that living area. Maybe she'll hear his somewhat-sneaky exit. And even if she doesn't hear him return, after a few laps with his dragon, H'kon will have come to her bed by morning. |
Comments
Varied (Varied (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 31 Dec 2013 23:30:22 GMT.
< Lesson: it is a good thing Madilla agreed to adopt the kid, because otherwise H'kon and Madilla wouldn't have realized the other one really does want to have a kid with them. Right? >.>
(Sorry, Madilla! Except no takebacks!)
H'kon (H'kon (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 01 Jan 2014 02:45:15 GMT.
<
If only realisation meant that he'd actually made a decision...
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