Logs:Secrets
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| RL Date: 9 February, 2009 |
| Who: Delifa, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Secrets do unhappy things to Madilla's state-of-mind. Plus, she has exams. Luckily, Delifa is there to be, if not actually comforting, then at least someone she can talk openly to. |
| When: Month 11-Month 12, Turn 18 |
| Mentions: Satiet/Mentions |
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| Satiet's diagnosis sat heavily upon Madilla. It shortened her temper (her interaction with Tiriana had made her feel briefly powerful, and then horrified and disgusted with herself, her audacity - how could she have said that?), it made everything seem less certain. It wasn't that she'd never had a patient die on her before: Madilla knew death, had seen it happen plenty of times. But this was different: this was certain, predetermined, just a matter of time. And this was the Weyrwoman. Madilla fretted over Satiet's mental wellbeing, over what was going to happen, and how, and when. She felt as though the weight of the knowledge would drown her, this secret she carried with her, unable to decrease her own load by sharing (though would that decrease it - or just inflict another?). Delifa noticed, Delifa who was a good mentor, a woman wise to the ways of young Apprentices, particularly the sensitive ones, even when they hid that beneath their sensibleness, as Madilla so often did. But despite this, they spoke little of the diagnosis, as though uttering the words, even amongst themselves, might rock the boat, spill the secret, cause problems. By the beginning of month 12, Madilla found herself less and less able to sleep. Not every night, not even every second night - but often enough, all the same.To make matters worse, exams were looming, and yet, they were the last thing on her mind. She spent many of her nights trying to study, reasoning that if sleep wouldn't come, she could at least use the time productively. But she was so tired, she couldn't concentrate, would drift off over her page, only to be jolted awake again a few minutes later. Sleep had never been a problem for the Apprentice. Even in her first days at the Hall, when she'd felt so utterly lost, confused and alone, she'd slept perfectly well. Even exams, which had always worried her, caused nothing like this level of agitation. Delifa sent her off to the exams, in late month 12 with the admonishment to forget everything, and concentrate on herself for the sevenday. "We'll talk when you get back," she promised. "And we'll get you sleeping more, even if I need to tuck you in to bed myself." Being at the Hall was oddly comforting, despite the impending examinations. Everyone here was stressed, and while they might not carry the same secrets, the exam stress hid a multitude of concerns. But it was hard for the Masters to miss the dark shadows beneath Madilla's eyes, and the restlessness of her gaze; a few times, over the course of the sevenday, they asked how things were going, if everything was all right at the Reaches. "Fine," she told them, smiling. "I'm very happy there." Her return to the Weyr was not triumphant. She'd passed her exams, but not well, not even the pharmacy ones she could usually be guaranteed to achieve in. While she'd anticipated no promotion, known full well that there was little to no chance at her being given one, there was a sting in watching more among her group than she'd expected being marched to the Senior Apprentice table. They all seemed so carefree; Madilla, for once in her life, felt old. "You can't let it affect you like this," Delifa told her, over spiced klah in her quarters. Madilla was perched on the edge of the bed, looking away. "It happens. There's nothing we can do about it, except our best." "But she's the Weyrwoman, and she's going to die. And no one else knows!" Madilla's hands were shaking. "And that's her choice. We don't break confidentiality, Madilla, and we don't force anyone into anything. Dealing with this kind of thing is part of our job. This is what we do. And I promise, it gets easier." Madilla nodded, staring moodily into the klah in her mug. It was only at times like these, Delifa realised, that the girl really seemed much like a teenager at all. Sometimes, it was like she was far younger: an innocent, unhindered by teenage thoughts and emotions. And sometimes it was like she was far older: perhaps not worldly wise, but certainly more focused, professional and dedicated than many her age. But not now. "What if she doesn't tell anyone?" "They'll find out, eventually. She'll get sicker. She'll have to tell." "But the longer they know, the better they can prepare," Madilla reasoned. "Give her time. It's not our concern. We're her healers, not her advisors, not her family. We stay out. We don't know if she hasn't already told people. We don't know what is happening, behind closed doors." Slowly, Madilla nodded again. "Step back, Madilla. There's nothing we can do. I know it's not easy, I know. But you need to be able to show everyone else that there's nothing the matter, because as far as everyone else knows, there isn't anything going on. Understand?" "Of course, Journeywoman." So Madilla pasted a smile onto her face, and resumed her life. And if the secret strung from her neck threatened to drown her, she pushed it away: nothing's wrong, nothing's the matter, everything is fine. Except at night, when she worried, her heart full of emotion for the cold-as-ice Weyrwoman. |
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