Logs:Nightingale
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| RL Date: 1 June, 2013 |
| Who: Madilla, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin's loopy from cold medicine. Madilla visits after almost two sevens of infirmary confinement. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 12, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Leova/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Tolman/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated and played over gdocs. |
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| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
This time, it's Madilla who makes her way down the curtained aisles towards K'zin's home-away-from-home. She has done her best to visit for as long as she can, as often as she can, with more sympathy than some of the healers who work beneath her care - not that that means she's been any easier to move in terms of confirming a release date. Now, as she draws up alongside the curtained cubicle, she hesitates, lingering there for a moment even as she's saying, "How are you feeling today, K'zin? Do you need anything?" "Freeeeeedom!" K'zin declares in what is not an infirmary-appropriate volume. He's not shouting, just being dramatically passionate. Of course, this drawn out exclamation brings on a coughing fit, leaving him moments later with nothing but a sheepish smile for Madilla as he sits up. "I feel perfect!" There's a rasp in his voice left over from all the coughing, and clearly he's not actually feeling perfect, but anything to get out of the infirmary, right? "Well, almost perfect. Almost well." He admits more seriously, knowing there is only so long he can get away with silliness. "Short of release, a new book would be good. Or company. Company would be preferred. Do you have time to stay on a bit?" His look to her is hopeful, adorably so with the way his hair is mussed in all directions from being sacked out on the cot. "Liar," accuses Madilla, good-naturedly. "You'll say anything to get yourself away from me, I can see that." She slides around the edge of the curtained wall, so that she can sit down on the chair next to the bed, arms crossing to her lap. "I can stay. And I'll go and find you some new books, later, too. Anything to keep you from driving my staff mad. I know it's hard. It's been two turns since that time Leova, Jo and I ended up in quarantine together, but I remember it vividly. And I wasn't even sick." Not much, anyway, a fact her expression admits, even if her voice does not. "Not away from you," K'zin's expression turns abruptly contrite. "Just this place. It's really boring when you're not around, and you're always working, or busy." His complaint matches the childishness of the contrite expression, though there's an undertone of teasing for the complaints levied at her. He seems pleased, though, that she's able to stay and he shifts on the cot so he can face her, legs tucked to cross. "At least you had each other. And Jo had to keep it interesting, didn't she? How long were you quarantined for? What did they think you had?" The extra questions that fire in rapid succession are likely a side effect of the cabin fever, but at least he manages them all without coughing. Teasingly, "I know. How could I have other patients to deal with? Clearly you need your own personal healer to keep your spirits up, all day every day." Still, Madilla sounds sympathetic, and settles back in her chair comfortably, ready to talk. "Jo and Leova found someone on sweeps who was sick; at the time, it looked like something potentially plague-worthy, and then they ran into me, and - we were all sent into one of the ground weyrs, and kept there for weeks. It turned out to be nothing but a standard fever, though the delirium was--" She breaks off, shakes her head. "It turned out all right, at least. We recovered. But I don't think it matters how entertaining people are, if you're trapped somewhere and aren't permitted to leave." "Really, it's down-right inconsiderate. Poor bedside manner indeed. First I come to you," Quinlys makes him come to her. "And then you tell me I'm never to leave." Never ever. "And then you're not even around for most of it." The nerve of some people, his tone communicates clearly enough, though clearly all laced with sarcasm and intended wit. "Wow, weeks? Seriously? That's crazy. And here I am only going on a seven and a half." He puts one elbow on his knee and makes a fist, resting his chin on it. Suddenly he has the comically studious expression of one entirely fascinated (in an overly exaggerated way, though certainly some of the interest is quite genuine, "How ever did you survive it? What got you though the sevens?" "You'd better put in a written complaint," says Madilla, mock-seriously. "I'm not sure what they think they're doing around here." Her eyes gleam with barely suppressed mirth, and the corners of her mouth twitch, cheerful to the end. "We slept a lot. Long baths. We talked. It was-- a strange time, I think, because it really was just the three of us, no other visitors. We didn't know if we were going to come down with something life-threatening; we didn't really know anything about what was going on, outside. It was long enough, however long it was. Too long. You just... take one day at a time, I suppose. One hour after another." "I will. I've already had time to write my will bequeathing all my belongings to Rasavyth except for my sketches which go to Tolman when he's old enough for adult content, and the epic story of my days in the infirmary, and-- well, you get the idea. A formal complaint about the circumstances is right up my ally with the way I'm going. Especially-" K'zin pauses for dramatic effect, "-if I don't get another book soon." It's perhaps a threat, certainly a promise if half of what he says is true. Which it sounds like it might be. "One day at a time. One hour after another." K'zin repeats, "I think that's probably a very logical way to look at things." He purses his lips, "I'm not sure I'm inclined to be logical just now. I don't know what you put in that stuff you gave me, but it feels pretty good. But not logical. Logic is for sissies. And not sick people. How many times will I have an excuse to act silly? My dragon wants me to be serious all the time. It's exhausting." His lips wiggle, still pursed. 'Adult content'. There's only the faintest twitch of Madilla's expression for that, but if K'zin's glancing in her direction as he says it, it's certainly visible. "I'll get you that book," she promises, serious despite the way her mouth is moving, hinting at mirth, which must, surely, have something to do with his silliness. "That's because you're not really supposed to be logical, at the moment. You're not supposed to be thinking too much at all: the important thing is rest. Sleep. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll be back up and about. Though," a full smile, this time. "I'm not tucking you in just yet. You can tell Rasavyth that I don't want you thinking too hard, at the moment, if he complains. There will be plenty of time for that later." K'zin was looking at her. Actually, he's been staring really. The blinks come occasionally, but it's sort of the way they come to those who should've been asleep hours before, slow and infrequent. His eyes, at least, have been intent on her. The twitch prompts a slight blush, which can only help his freedom cause as it's bringing more color to his cheeks. He'd been much paler in earlier days, now returning to his normal dusky hues. "Sleeping is boring without company." He complains further. Because, really, sleep with company is restful, right? That she's basically just given him permission to be silly has him grinning stupidly. "That'll help. He's not sure what to make of you." Then he wrinkles his nose. "Oops. That's not something I'm supposed to say out-loud. Or that. I wasn't supposed to say that I wasn't supposed to say. Can we pretend I didn't?" "Sleeping with company is not exactly going to have you rested and well in short order," returns Madilla, who doesn't blush, at least; ah, the difference a few turns have made. "How quickly you seem to have gotten used to it." It was only a few months ago when she was giving him advice, after all. Now, however, she's smiling, barely holding back laughter that still threatens to break free. "I heard nothing," she promises. "Healers have discretion, remember? It's part of our job description. Though, if it helps, I don't know if I know what to make of him, either. It's always strange, only knowing a person's dragon through that person, and not directly. I have to trust in your descriptions." His look is sheepish as she says that. "I've maybe done it too often. But not last month. While I was wingsecond. Barely at all, really. but it has been exciting. But I think I might be a slut." K'zin giggles. Good meds! "Although, I guess they call guy sluts players? Except I'm not really a player, 'cause players mislead people and I only tell girls the truth. Guys-- guys is still-- confusing." He hasn't gone there, and despite the looseness of his tongue with the loopy-making meds, he doesn't go into that further, thankfully. "Ras is-- Ras. He's amazing, Mads. But also," He leans in then voice dropping to a hush. "Kind of scary. He's so smart. So, so smart." He trails off, looking as though he's been gently reminded of something silently. "I'm not supposed to say. Nevermind. Shh. It's a secret. You'll keep our secret, right, Mads? I trust you more than I trust anyone at all." Babble, babble, smile. "I'm a healer," Madilla reminds the weyrling, fondly amused. "And I'm presently your healer, while you're admitted here, so I can promise you, without hesitation, that nothing you say will be passed on by me." She's got a thoughtful expression on her face, though, and it wouldn't be hard to read into it a certain amount of - not consternation, as such, but certainly hesitation. "I think you'll be relieved to have your head clear again, and I suspect your Rasavyth will be even moreso. You're lucky I'm trustworthy." "You're my always and everything healer, Mads. I'm pretty sure there's not any kind of hurt, physical or mental, that you couldn't help heal me of." For a moment as he expresses this, K'zin seems quite lucid. Surely, the medicine has helped loosen his tongue, but there can be no doubt that he believes what he says with absolute conviction. Only time will tell as the hurts of the weary world find him if he will be right. "You're probably right. Definitely about Rasavyth. Though, really, he's being quite kind now. He tells everyone that I'm fine, that I'm surely to be fine, but he worries. He worries less when you're here. I think it's funny sometimes how feelings transfer between rider and dragon. He's never met you, but he knows everything I know about you, knows everything you've ever done for me, and he's --" K'zin has to pause here to search out the right definition. While his expression is rarely guarded around Madilla, in this moment, everything is on the surface. There's confusion that turns to a rapid shifting through awe, concern, surprise, gratitude, things that are surely Rasavyth's emotions showing on K'zin's face. "He feels indebted to you." He finally settles on, eyes finding the healer's face again, blinking at her. "Is that silly? He wants to know." K'zin's brows furrow as he processes the request for information aloud. "He doesn't usually ask for reassurance about himself. He has always been very much who he is. Ever since the beginning. I like that about him. I never knew really who I was and he helps me define myself, helps me figure out who I am and what I want. He's good for me." This is decisive. Then he stops, seeming to realize with another sheepish smile that he's been babbling again. At least this time he didn't seem to be telling any secrets. Unless Ras has just given up on locking K'zin's mouth. Madilla's smile is warm for that first remark, and fond in a way she makes no effort to hide; it grows fonder, if perhaps a little amused, throughout the rest of his words, though, as they tumble out one after another. She makes no attempt to forestall his babbling, not even going so far as to open her mouth, though that doesn't mean the corners don't shift as her smile broadens. "He is good for you," she agrees, placidly enough. "I can see how much you've grown together, these past few months. I'm glad of it. Tell him there's no need to feel indebted to me, though; there's certainly no debt to be paid, not by him, and not by you. I'm glad that I can be of assistance. Which makes it sound terribly... superficial, and professional, and it's not that at all. One of the best parts of my job is knowing I can do something tangible to help my friends, though I'd always prefer it if they didn't need my help." The smile goes from sheepish to pleased. Pleased that she's pleased, by the time that she's done. Then his lips purse in sudden realization of frustration. "Mads. How come you let me be so selfish? You always let me talk and talk and talk and say whatever I want to or need to. But you never really-- well, you do talk, but not about you in the now. Or not often. How are you? How are the kids? I'm going to shut up now, and just listen to anything you want to tell me. Friendships are two way streets." And then he does, expression screwed up with determination. It's almost like the who can be quiet the longest game; a game he's bound to lose soon enough thanks to those loopy, tongue-loosening meds. "Perhaps it's just that my life isn't so dramatic and confusing as yours," returns Madilla, in a way that suggests it really is part tease, though there's certainly a grain of truth in it, however affectionate. She smooths her skirt over her knees, though, glancing down at her hands rather than at the weyrling, as though this process of tidying her clothing is terribly, vitally important. "We're all well, I promise." There's no sense from either her tone or expression that she's lying, though something in her voice does suggest she's pushing the cheerfulness a little more than she might normally. Still, she flashes K'zin a smile as she glances up again. "It's been busy. You're not the only one to fall ill of late, I'm afraid." "Perhaps you should teach me how to be less so, then." K'zin retorts immediately. So much for winning the quiet game! A hand claps up over his mouth comically as he remembers, too late, that he was listening, and resumes the attentive pose. He does listen then. And it prompts a frown for all that only the bit about others being ill was bad news. He started frowning sooner than that. "Mads. Are we real friends? I feel like you shield me from stuff. Like you don't want to tell me about stuff. Like. I mean. Most mothers could and would talk for days if you let them about their kids, and I know you love yours, so I give you an opening like that and all I get is a promise that you're all well? What's Lily learning in harper classes? Is Dilan -- doing whatever kids do at the age he is?" Obviously, K'zin lacks the expertise to know for all that he had two younger siblings. "When I ask you about your life, and all you feel like saying is three sentences, and not a very informative three sentences, it makes me feel like we're not really friends. Or like you're really my friend, but I'm not really yours because there's no give and take or balance or-- whatever I'm trying to say." Because clearly he thinks it's not coming out right, and she should have some magic power that lets her know exactly what that is. "What? No!" Beat. "That is, of course we're real friends. Of course we are, K'zin." Madilla sounds aghast with the idea that he might be worried that they aren't; her head shakes quickly, once, twice, and then a third. "There are... things I don't tell you, I suppose, but that's because there are things that aren't mine to tell; complicated things. Those things... It's not you. Lily's writing stories again. I think they're good, but it's hard for me to tell, since I know I'm biased. Dee still wants to do everything she does, but he's... I think he's more like me than she is. Or maybe he's..." She breaks off, takes a breath, then shakes her head. "We went to High Reaches' apple festival. Unfortunately, we were there on the day of the pirates." Her expression says a lot about that: she seems terribly unhappy, somehow. "Well, that's fine." K'zin says of things not being hers to tell. "But we both know not everything that you could tell me is something that isn't yours to tell. Like Lily's stories." The bronzerider seizes the handy example. "What are her stories about? Does Dee make up stories too, since Lily does? How is he more like you?" The questions are delivered in a way that holds interest, but might be delivered in the manner of an instructor prompting a pupil to explore the box more completely, though not press the boundaries of it. If he should've been pressing more at the 'maybe he's...', then Madilla can be grateful her drugs work well, because the hesitation is lost there. "How was the festival? I-- wasn't feeling well, so I didn't go." This is admitted sheepishly. He probably told her he hadn't been feeling well for a while, but probably hadn't admitted that 'a while' meant two sevens or more before coming to the infirmary. "I've heard the accounts from the weyrlings, but what was it like at the festival while the pirates were-- doing-- their --- whatever." The words get jumbled in his brain, so he settles for a phrase that works more than what he actually means. It's likely that Madilla is relieved when K'zin doesn't press her for those other things, and at least part of that must be because of the state he's presently in: who wants to share information with someone who is presently babbling! Rather more present in her expression, however, is that moue of chiding disapproval, even if she's not so pushy as to actually translate that into words. No doubt he can see: she does not approve. "It was a lovely festival," she says. "We were having a good time. I've always enjoyed autumn festivals; they have such an emphasis on the harvest, on being safe and warm and full-bellied for the winter. Lily and Dee tend to see autumn as tithe-time, and it doesn't mean much, so it's nice to give them a reminder of where their food comes from." Beat. "Lily promptly wrote a story about defeating pirates afterwards, of course. And Dee complained when he didn't get to defeat pirates, too. I think they'd had too much sugar." Look anywhere but at her. If you don't see the chiding, it didn't happen! So as soon as it begins, his brown eyes are dancing about the alcove. It's not obvious, right? He's looking back to her by the time that she gets the story. "Sounds like an exciting story." K'zin's grin is warm. "What did you tell Dee about the pirates? I'm not sure I'd really know how to explain stuff like that to a kid. Did I tell you about Tolman? He's only thirteen. One of the apprentice weavers. He likes to draw. We met when I was making the backdrops for Mave's play. We get together sometimes and talk about drawing. And stuff. And like... he asks me questions, and I feel a lot of times like I'm saying the wrong thing, but he's thirteen and can sort of think deeply about things. I haven't met many littles who can do that, or not as when they're older." He's sort of got off on another tangent, but finds his way back saying. "My point is, I think it'd be hard to explain pirates to kids as young as Lily and Dee." Madilla has a nod of recollection for Tolman. "Dee doesn't really understand, no, and Lily... she's old enough to think pirates are exciting, but I'm not sure if she really grasps the reality of what it means. Though... sometimes she's awfully perceptive for her age. I think she understands a lot more than she lets on; I think she knows things, has figured out things, that we don't expect her to." If her brow is creased, and if she glances away for a moment, it really is only for a moment, as though she's pushing those thoughts aside to focus on the more positive. "I think it's nice, that you're being a mentor for that weaver of yours. We all need someone who isn't a... parent, I suppose, when we're growing up. An older sibling, if we have one, or someone who isn't related at all, but has time to listen." "We?" K'zin's brows furrow and his expression shows curiosity. "Sometimes kids can be strange that way. Seeing things that even the adults don't grasp. I feel like maybe I was smarter when I was younger." He wasn't. He was probably just less aware that he's ore pretty than smart. "Sort of the way you've been to me? You make time even when you don't have it, Mads. For me." There's gratitude in K'zin's voice for that. He's staring at her. He looks out of it, to be sure. And it might seem as though he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open that he's so quiet. Then suddenly. "Hey! Do you know you have really interesting eyes?" They're eyes he's met for turns upon turns at this point, but it's as though in this moment, he's seeing them anew. His face next reveals a complex display of emotions that flicker through too many too quickly to really identify any of them. It ends with him averting his eyes to the ground, looking confused and a little dazed, biting his lower lip. "We - the people around her, the ones who know her best." Madilla's got a smile for K'zin's other comments, the ones that follow that question, though his abrupt silence, and what follows, seems to surprise, and perhaps even unnerve, her. His expression leaves her uncertain, those eyes blinking several times quickly as she attempts to come up with an answer. "Do I?" There's uncertainty in her tone, too, and it rather seems as though she's caught without anything to say. Then, "Well - thank you. I think I should go find you that new book, and you should get some rest. The more rest you have, the sooner you'll be back up and about. Is there anything else you need, K'zin?" She rises. "You know, Mads," K'zin says after a moment, turning his chin up to look up to her, expression unreadable. "You're a lot craftier than people give you credit for. Should put you in to handle all this political mess with Tillek and High Reaches and wherever else we piss off next." Then he's moving to lie back on the cot, eyes closing before he's all the way settled. "No. I think I'll nap. Hey, Mads?" He opens his eyes sleepily. "You're the best." There's a strange sort of enamored dreaminess to the smile he gives her. Maybe it's just the drugs. Madilla's laugh is low and warm, and if she's still not sure how to take his earlier comment (it's hard to tell one way or the other), it's certainly not impacting her answer now. "I don't know about that. Sleep well, K'zin. I'll come and see you again later." At least she's smiling, still, as she walks away. |
Comments
Edyis on 13:59, 19 July 2014 said...
Loved this, namely the humor and interplay between the two.
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