Logs:Planning and Decisions
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2013 |
| Who: Madilla, Wakizian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Wakizian catch up over klah. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 1, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
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| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. "Thanks!" Wakizian's baritone carries over the usual noise and bustle of the kitchens as the candidate exchanges a large serving tray that would be familiar to those who've helped serve lunch a time or two in the Crafters Complex, for a plate heaped high with a variety of kitchen scraps and left-overs. The young man is quick to make off with his bounty, snagging up cutlery as he goes. He slides onto a bench in one of the many nooks, plate rattling as it meets table-top abruptly. He's just about to dig in when a look of realization blooms on his face, like a glowbasket being uncovered - an unhappy glowbasket. "Perfect. Except no klah." The grumbling gets him nowhere, but action might. He scooches to the end of the bench and leeeeans out into the aisle to try to spy the closest pot. In leaning like so, Wakizian may well catch a glimpse of Madilla, who has just stepped through the swinging doors from the inner caverns, and is on her way towards the pot. With her hair up, and her apron on, it's obvious that she's on a break from the Infirmary, though at least that white apron is still mostly white: no blood stains, today. She is too focused on the klah pot, and on pouring herself a mug, to notice anyone in particular, though one of the kitchen workers waves in her direction and eventually earns a distracted smile in return. "HEY MADDY!" Why move when you can just yell, right? The shout earns him more than a few looks, but since those aren't from Maddy they're quickly back to their work, only to be interrupted again by: "JOURNEYWOMAN MADILLA!" Just in case she didn't hear him the first time. Now instead of just leaning out of the nook, he's leaning out and stretching tall, going so far as to half rise - thighs still under the table. He waves his hands in the air above his head to further attract her attention. If she looks, a mime of a cup of klah and palms together in a please gesture will be made along with one of his most charming smiles that only come out when he wants something or is trying to flirt. It's that second yell, the one that invokes her full name and title, that has Madilla spinning upon her heels, abruptly conscious that her presence is required. Given the look on her face, it may well be that she's instantly assumed the worst - kitchen mishap, spurting blood! - though a single moment's glance seems to reassure her against that possibility. Wakizian earns, instead, a pair of raised eyebrows, charming smile or no, eyebrows that linger for several seconds before she can't seem to help herself: she smiles. Less than a minute later, she's on her way towards him, two mugs in hand. "Very polite, Apprentice Wakizian," she says mock-scolding. Wakizian's smile in return is incorrigible. A single long finger points to the white knot on his shoulder, "Candidate now, actually. It means I can get in trouble twice as much - with the Smiths and with the Headwoman." The grin on his face says that he's never had the hard lesson about not being able to get off light. He sighs happily as his eyes fall to the second mug of klah. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a life-saver?" Beat. "Because you are." His large hands reach up and extend towards her, hoping to receive the mug. How did Madilla manage to miss that piece of news? Maybe it has something to do with whatever it is that has given her those dark circles under her eyes, and the weary cast to her expression. "Candidate," she says, sounding genuinely surprised. "Congratulations, Waki. We'll be in the Galleries, come hatching day, wishing you the very best of luck." She extends the other mug towards him, and, without preamble, slides into the booth on the opposite side. "If klah-providing is the most life-saving I need to do today, I'll be very grateful. I suppose this is your way to make sure you never have to leave the Weyr?" Wakizian's grin is downright toothy. "Exactly! Now all I need is the right egg to make the plan work. I told Quinlys she was on the hook for helping me figure out a back-up plan if this one falls through and they try to move me." He settles the mug on the table, watching the steam rise for a moment before looking back to the Healer. "I've been sleeping better since. It's-- easier. When the only part of the plan is out of your control, it's easier not to worry about it than when there's actually something you can do. Since no one knows why dragons pick who they pick, I can't do anything. I like getting the sleep." He pauses, "Not to be rude, but it looks like you might be struggling with that sleep thing... Unless you're not sleeping because of like, a new lover, or a good thing or something. If it is, forget I brought it up." A blush rises to the candidate's cheeks and he suddenly looks bashful. Thankfully, he can start gorging himself to try to hide the reaction. And he does. "Well, I hope no back-up plans are needed. As long as this really is what you want." Madilla's clearly doing her best to sound positive about the plan, and certianly, her smile is warm. "I hope you don't miss your craft too much, at the end of it. It's such a big decision." Her cheeks go pink at the prospect of having a new lover, or anything along those lines, but aside from the way her eyes drop towards her mug, she's not otherwise too discomforted. "That would be an acceptable reason, I suppose. No - I've just been very busy. Working nights. I should try and get to bed on time tonight, and perhaps," she smiles, "drink less klah." "Miss my craft?" This phrase comes out as "Msh msh graf?" when Wakizian tries it food-in-mouth, but the second time it comes out clearly. His head flops to the side and he blinks. "What do you mean? So far, candidacy's just like apprenticing except with extra duties and stuff." Clearly, the big decision stuff is lost on him. "Well, that reason would at least be a pleasant reason and not as alarming as some other things that might keep someone up at night." He fidgets a little and then reaches for his klah, blowing on it to try to speed its cooling. "Do they have enough hands in the Infirmary? Or have more people than usual been coming in? Maybe you can even get to bed early. Sometimes early turns into on time. The best of intentions are sometimes subverted. I'd imagine that's doubly true in the Infirmary." Wakizian's answer earns a fond look from the healer, whose demeanour at least saves it from being condescending. "It's just-- what if you do Impress? That is a very different life indeed, even in Interval. Do you know G'brion?" she asks, naming a greenrider who is also a healer. "He had big plans for his Impression, as sort of a travelling healer. But Pterath had ideas of her own; it changed a lot of things." She keeps her warnings to a minimum, leaving it at simply that before adding, "No, it isn't patients. Administration. Politics. Personal matters. You're probably right: an early night would do me good." She sets her mug down, twining fingers around the handle loosely. Wakizian's fork is set down on the plate and his eyebrows knit together. It's clear that the Healer's words are being taken seriously. "Well-" Pause. "But-" Pause. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "But don't dragons like the things you like? Or like it because you do?" He chews on his lower lip. "I mean, I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to be able to stay here and work at the forge. There's probably a dragon who would like that, right?" His fingers start drumming the tabletop falling one at a time and then repeating. His look is uncomfortable, so he grasps at the other topic at hand for a momentary respite from the other thoughts now jumbling in his mind. "Is it the double leadership and the bronzeriders and the everything here? Or is there something amiss with the administration at Healer?" His concern is genuine and it's obvious that the candidate is looking to help or at least be a sounding board. "I wouldn't want to pry into personal matters -- but -- you know, I'm a pretty good listener sometimes. Especially when I have a plate of food to keep my mouth busy." He gestures down to just such a plate, making the offer of his ear implied. Madilla's expression turns troubled, but shifts abruptly back to her more usual gentle smile a moment later - it's rather likely that this was a concerted effort. "I appreciate the offer, Waki, but it's complicated, and nothing that can't be sorted. I'm just-- not used to dealing with politics, I think." She reaches to grasp her mug again, but simply to hold it, it seems, rather than to take a sip. "Dragons, as I understand it, all have rather their own personalities. There must be something to complement their rider in there, I assume, because why else would they end up together? But there's no guarantee that they will want what you want. On the other hand," now, her smile is indulgent, "I don't see that a dragon would necessarily implement your ability to work in the forge. You should be fine. But your desire might change, too. Who can say? Have you thought about what kind of dragon you might like to Impress?" "Alright. Well, I'm frequently found with large plates of food. So if you ever need an unimportant set of ears, just say the word." The young man gives a little shrug. "All the politicking seems to go a little over my head, I think. I'm not even really sure I understand most of the issues - just the obvious one: two flights, two winners." His fingers continue to thump-thump-thump on the table and his face scrunches up as he thinks. It's a funny expression, but most likely one that's done on purpose. "The kind with two wings, five appendages, two eyes, and ties to 'Reaches?" His tone is an attempt at humor, but it's hollow somehow. "I guess that's part of the problem. I've never known what I want, only what I don't want. I knew growing up taking care of Pet Rock after Pet Rock that I didn't want to be a Miner. So I did something else. Now I know I don't want to leave 'Reaches. I know I don't don't want a dragon, so I guess that could mean I could want one? I mean, it's an honor to Stand regardless of the motivation, right? Who even knows. I could be mauled on the sands. Might not even get past the first dragonet." "I'll keep that in mind," says Madilla, with a smile. "Thank you. I admit, a lot of it goes over my head, too. I do know that all of the parties involved want the best for this Weyr; I think the real issue is that they cannot agree what the best is, necessarily... and the Weyr doesn't necessarily trust them to deliver. It's difficult. I, for one, am terribly glad that I only have the Infirmaries to concern myself with." Her mouth twitches with barely-suppressed mirth as he continues, though she half-hides it behind the mug she finally lifts towards her mouth, sipping carefully. "Mm. I suppose there's not a great deal of point in hoping for something in particular. As you said before, you've no real control over the outcome. I hope-- I hope you find out what you do want. Eventually. And that it's achieveable." Wakizian's laugh is loud and bright. Contagious to some for sure. "I hope so, too! Although, I'd scarcely believe that I'd be one of the few luck enough to both know what it is they want and be able to achieve it. I'm told I'm still young though and that I have turns to figure it all out." He leans in over the table and lowers his voice to a loud whisper, "I think that's a load of wherry dung, though. I don't think anyone ever really figures it out." He sits back and picks up his klah, "I think that by the time you figure out what it is you think you want, the whole world changes around you and you start to question and search again." Pause. "Do you know what you want? For the Infirmaries? And yourself?" Madilla laughs, unrestrainedly as Wakizian does, though her mirth restrains itself as he continues. All that philosophising makesher smile, though she has a definite moment of hesitation - as though she's working something through in her head, and hasn't quite come to any conclusion - before she answers. "I-- sometimes," she admits, "I think I have everything all worked out. And other times... Every so often, the ground beneath your feet falls away, and everything does change." None of that is a direct answer - and the sigh that follows is a pretty good indication that she doesn't really have one. Or, if she does, it's an admission that she doesn't know what she wants, either. "I'm grateful for everything I do have," she says. "Even if it isn't precisely the life I'd imagined for myself, once upon a time." "Ah-HA! So you do admit it. It's wherry dung!" The volume at which Wakizian makes these declarations have heads turning, which causes him to grin only wider at the audience and chuckle. "Glad to know I'm not alone in feeling the world go topsy-turvy sometimes." He pauses, "Ever notice how sometimes it's predictable and other times it's just out of nowhere? Like-- I bet everything changed when you had your children. Were they in what you imagined for yourself once upon a time?" Briefly, Madilla seems caught between amusement and consternation at the intensity of Wakizian's reaction, and probably his terminology, too. Then, she lets go, smiling wryly around the rim of her mug. "Once upon a time," she says, "I'd intended to be a wife and mother. Certainly, children were part of my imaginings-- but not in the way they ended up being. I have no regrets, though, and I think that's important: we need to structure our lives in order to be able to move with the changes. We need to be able to be happy with what we do end up with." Her brief hesitation before amusement seems to have a calming effect on the young man who'd begun to get too big for his boots as he chatted. Wakizian shifts and resumes his efforts to clear the plate he was given before he sat down while she talks. "My mom-- well, you know she wasn't very good with the whole typical mom thing while I was younger - though she seems to be a lot better now that I'm an adult." More or less. "Anyway, one of the things she always used to say is that life is what happens when you're making plans." Maybe this explains Waki's lack of interest in making any. "Were you ever angry about any of it? Like, when things didn't go the way you planned?" There's something in his voice that seems to tell a story of once upon a time when he used to make plans of his own. Madilla's nod likely acknowledges rather than confirms Wakizian's assessment of his mother, though it could easily be interpreted as either. "Wise words," she remarks, after he's finished talking. "She's quite right, I think. I - yes, there was a time." It's a soft admission, and holds only the faintest hint of regret, as though the memory stirs something in her, but only just. "It's hard, realising that you've been dreaming for nothing. That you were... betrayed in that, sometimes. What was it you used to plan on, Waki?" So soft, her voice. Wakizian has made a molehill out of the mountain of food that was on his plate, but once again his fork gets placed down and the last swallow he takes after her question is visibly harder than the rest, for those with a keen eye for detail. The young man's expression is somber and his voice is quiet when he answers. A quiet question with a quiet answer. Words spoken so softly that they might vanish into the crevices of the walls of the dining nook. "I used to plan for everything. The first memory I can remember having was when I was five. I planned a surprise for my mother because she was coming home for her turnday. It was childish and I don't even remember what the surprise was. Just that she didn't come that turn. Or the turn after. Or the turn after. And pretty soon I realized that I didn't need to plan because either the plan had been made for me: take you Pet Rock for a walk, Waki; clean your room, Waki; learn the qualities of granite, sandstone, and shale, Waki; grow up to be a Miner, Waki; or, worse, the plan I made would only lead to disappointment. So why plan? Why get angry or cry about it? It doesn't fix anything. Doesn't change anything." He goes silent a moment, though his fingers continue their rhythm keeping. "Probably less exciting than the things you planned for. My sister tells me that women are better at making plans than men. But she never knew me when I planned. Wasn't old enough to remember." It doesn't take long for Madilla's eyes to widen with sympathy, or for her mouth to soften. She's silent throughout all of that long explanation, but oh - it's not hard to tell from her expression what she thinks. "Oh, Waki," she says, at the end of it all, setting down her mug and biting on her lip for a moment before she can find the words to continue. "I'm sorry. I think... when you get older, you do have more control over your own destiny, and I think it's wonderful that you've chosen to make that decision - to Stand. And that you became a Smith in the first place. I don't know about exciting. They seemed exciting to me, at the time. My children plan. I'm glad they feel like they can." Wakizian reaches both hands out to take his klah mug, but instead of taking a drink he pulls it closer to him, nudging the plate aside and then just twists it in idle circles on the table top. "You're probably right. Although, I don't think you ever get more control about the people you love and how they choose to be -- or not be -- in your life." His eyes haven't left the klah mug, and certainly haven't met the Healer's. He takes a long, slow, deep breath. "Maddy, can I tell you a secret and have you promise not to think less of me?" There's a faint smile for the words about her children, so at least he's not bitter towards any that feel like they can. Madilla regards Wakizian thoughtfully, sadness still caught up in the lines about her mouth, and the emotive depths of her eyes. "That's true," she agrees. "We never get to control other people and their desires." She sucks in a breath, then lets it out again, nodding instantly. "You can tell me anything at all," she promises, in a low but sure voice. "And I won't do anything but listen. You have my word." The mug twists a few more times, one direction and then the other. He lifts it and places it back again. Sometimes it's easy to pick out what's happening in the mind of someone if it's plain enough on their face. Wakizian's plainly shows he's gathering courage. "It's true that I accepted the offer to Stand in part because if I Impress, I never have to worry about leaving here. And here is the first place that I started to feel like maybe I could plan some things. And lately it's been impossible to plan anything because it's all suddenly been so uncertain. But..." He takes a deep breath, "I'm pretty sure that the bigger part of the reason that I accepted the offer to Stand is..." He hesitates and his eyes, which had managed to come up to meet her gaze, dive right back down to the klah, "A pretty girl I used to have a crush on when I was ten asked me if I was interested in Standing." And how could he let down a pretty girl? The words all come out in a rush and his cheeks redden. "I don't mean to be shallow." Listening, Madilla's expression is neutral, though she can't keep the fond smile out of her eyes. As the candidate gets the the guts of his admission, her lips part, just slightly, but there's no reproof to be seen in her reaction. "Ah," she says, her tone light. "Well, Waki, you're seventeen; I don't imagine it would surprise anyone to know that such things impact decisions. I think the fact that you're conscious of it is important. I can't tell you whether you made the right decision or not - and I am certainly not going to judge you on it. You are the only person whose thoughts on the matter actually matter. And I promise you," now, she smiles, a hint of ruefulness visible in the corners of her mouth, "People have made momentous decisions for far worse reasons." "You know, someday I'll be older than seventeen and all the women at this Weyr are going to have to watch out. It'll be Waki gone wild!" Obviously, the candidate has returned to his usual good humor and away from more serious subjects. "Or maybe wild for Waki, if I'm lucky." He grins at the Healer. "Weird part is that I don't even really know her. Just a buddy's older sister. But she's pretty. And older. And older is intriguing." His brown eyes rest on Madilla's face, and the look he has is impish. "One of the nice things about this decision is that time will tell, and I don't really need to waste much time thinking about it. I'm a candidate, I'll be a candidate until the eggs hatch, and on the hatching sands I'll find out either way." He frowns suddenly, "Maybe." He shrugs. "Which momentous decision did you make for a worse reason?" What was that he said earlier about not wanting to pry into personal matters? "I have no doubt about it," says Madilla, firmly, her smile broadening. "Everyone will have to watch out!" Her tone is gently and affectionately teasing, and though she doesn't immediately respond to the rest of what he's said, it's obvious that she has heard and is giving it thought. "Of course older is intriguing; I would be surprised if it weren't. Especially if you've known her, even vaguely, for a long time. She probably knew it, too." With a twist of her mouth, she adds, "And in answer to your question? I have two children, neither of whom was conceived in a relationship, both of whom are now going up without fathers. I don't regret either of them, but I can guarantee that my reasons were not necessarily good ones." Wakizian's hands fly up to cup over his ears, "My virgin ears!" He bemoans quietly, amusement playing clearly on his face. Hands are quick to drop away though, "Listen to that. Healer Madilla has a wild side. Amazingly well hidden from her patients." He lifts his klah cup and takes a long sip, "No wonder you're sleep-deprived. Leading a double-life takes its toll, I hear." He winks, expression brazen. He's quick enough to simper down though, "I think it's probably some of the best decisions you ever made. Great kids as a reward and I'm pretty sure playing it safe and not making questionable decisions makes for a boring life and that can't be healthy. I think I'd rather have an interesting life full of dumb decisions than a boring one choosing all the right things. I guess I'm on track to have that though." Pause as he considers the implications of what he's just said, "Not that I'm saying any of your decisions were dumb. Just uh- how did we put it? Making decisions for worse reasons." He pauses, "Besides, do your children feel like they're missing out because there's no father in their lives?" Madilla turns scarlet, and lowers green eyes towards the table, where they can stare awkwardly while she recovers her composure. "It's not quite like that," she says, hastily, sounding utterly mortified, though she also manages to smile, more or less. "As you well know. You're right, of course: it was all worth it. But I do wish they had a more traditional home-life. There are-- complications, sometimes. Lily doesn't remember her father, but at least she feels pride in knowing who he was. I'm glad for that." She doesn't mention her younger child, whose father has been far less obviously identified. "It's up to us to make the best of our decisions, whatever they may be, whatever the reasons for them may be. And now... I should make the decision to get back to work, before my staff riot without me. Have a pleasant afternoon, Waki." Confusion touches Wakizian's face when the healer colors, and his cheeks are quickly trying to match hers in shading. Joke gone too far? Oops. The candidate's eyes go to the table and he shifts uncomfortably. Brown eyes return to politely regard the Healer as she speaks of her children and their fathers. He nods along with her words to show he's listening, but his expression is still clearly abashed. "You too, Journeywoman." Beat. "Get some rest when you can." And then he's burying his reaction in what's left of his by now cold meal and klah. At least, as Madilla glances back on her way out, she's smiling brilliantly again, and her cheeks have returned to normal. No hard feelings, then. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 23 Feb 2013 08:48:18 GMT.
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This log was AMAZING. Oh my gosh. (Yes I'm playing catchup, shup).
Wakizian is a scream, and Madilla is so awesome at what she does. Which is 'being awesome'. :D
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