Logs:Someone Who Listens
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| RL Date: 14 August, 2010 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova, Madilla, and their teenaged boy responsibilities. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'brion/Mentions, Sho/Mentions |
| 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. The hour is late enough, now, that even out in the Living Caverns, the dinner rush is over. It's quieter still in the kitchens, where even most of the staff have finished for the evening, leaving only a few to keep an eye on the stew that's available for later meals. Madilla makes the most of the quiet, eating her meal in one of the nooks with her sleeping baby snuggled into her chest in a sling. It's no doubt a little awkward, and she has to sit well back from her plate to make room, but progress, if her mostly-empty plate is anything to go by, is steady enough. There are dark shadows beneath her eyes, but she seems, otherwise, in good spirits - even if, unusually, she's without reading material or handiwork. Then it's late enough for one of Leova's quiet visits. The first sign of her presence is that smoky-low voice of hers, an, "Evening." And then, as she slides in opposite, "If you can call it that, still light outside. Everything... well?" It's a guarded sort of slide, for all her brief smile Madilla's way: mustn't jostle the table, mustn't jostle the baby. Or else. The sound of Leova's voice lifts Madilla's gaze from her food, a more focused smile settling into place with which she greets the greenrider. There's a gratefulness to it, too: sleeping babies are happy babies. And happier mothers. "Everything's well," she confirms, keeping her voice pitched low. "With luck, we may even sleep the whole way home. How are /you/, Leova?" Once that gaze is met, even the plates in Leova's hands get set down quietly. Very quietly. As if the barest chink of ceramic against wood could be the knell of doom. "Long story," she says with a sideways pull of her mouth. "News from home." Amber eyes gauge mother and child. Then, rather than slide the smallest of the plates across the table, she picks it up and gently, so gently, reaches over to set it down again within the healer's reach. It's the one with the prettily chopped fruit, definitely not of the greenrider's preparing, though perhaps of her acquiring. "You?" 'News from home' raises Madilla's eyebrows, distracting her even from the very last forkful of food making its way towards her mouth. She lets it hang there for a moment, head tipped just slightly to the side; then, without removing her gaze from the greenrider, she sets it in motion again, chewing, swallowing, setting down the fork - carefully and quietly. "Good news, I hope?" She doesn't wait for an answer, though, adding, cheerfully enough, "I'm well. I spent the morning in the new workroom and the afternoon in the Infirmary, and between that and getting Lily to and from places, I think I'll be wearing my old clothes before the end of summer." There's a sideways shake of her head, and then Leova's eating. Listening. Eating. Eating some more. "Still liking the new place? Even with its... eccentricities?" After a moment, "Kid acting up. Cousin's boy." The greenrider says it very carefully, deliberately, more so than the all-in-a-rush, "Wants me to look in on him." Madilla reaches for her fork, again, and uses it to spear one of the pieces of fruit; the nod that accompanies it is probably a belated 'thank you'. "I am," she confirms, firmly. "I worry what will happen during the really awful storms in winter, but if riders can manage it, so can we. Having the facilities... it makes up for a lot of things." She's silent for a few moments after that before she tackles, quietly, "Because... No, I suppose it doesn't matter why she wants you to. Will you do it? Will it be an imposition? I've been keeping an eye on one of the teenage boys here; it makes me kind of grateful that Lily's a girl, sometimes, to be honest. The poor things." "Not as though you're out in the hinterlands." Leova gives it a pause. "Exactly." A bite. "And there are ropes and things." A swallow, finally. "Shouldn't have told her I was still in Flurry. Not that we don't have /anything/ to do. And there's the infirmary shift," /her/ infirmary, not Madilla's, says the intonation. She leans into her elbow-propped hand, lets it push up her cheek in comical fashion, exaggerated by the glow-cast shadows. "But most days aren't as exciting as the time Laurienth came in. Ebeny's. You know her? And I got to hear which boy it is this time." "True," allows Madilla, with a firm nod, accepting Leova's counterarguments without further argument. They /will/ manage, one way or another. She draws her mouth in thoughtfully as the greenrider continues, nodding a second time for Ebeny: yes, she knows the greenrider. "She's going to be all right? Laurienth?" And, pink-cheeked, "His name's Sho, my-- adopted little brother, I suppose we're calling it. I don't /mean/ to collect them." But she's aware of it. "Perhaps you should be flattered that your cousin thinks you'd be helpful. I'm sure you will be, around your other duties. If you can manage it. I think it really just comes down to people needing someone who isn't immediate family to care." "Should be," but there's some reservation in the way Leova says it, and it leaves her mouth tightened for a moment or three. "/Sho/. Hm. And, /collect/ them. Well. You do. Maybe you can have this one too, hm?" She exhales. Looks at Lily, or at least Lily's wrappings, for a moment. Musters herself up to say back to Madilla, steadily, "Don't reckon as how flattery weighs into it. Her man's mother, she's doing poorly, and she has to take care of her on top of everything. On top of everything else." Madilla's not unaware of that reservation, and it shows in the shallowness of her nod, the low exhale that follows it. "I think I've got my hands full already. You'll be fine; I'm sure of it. You manage weyrlings, after all, and a lot of /them/ are young." She's got her eyes on Leova, watching even as the greenrider looks at Lily instead. "I'm sorry to hear that, though. The timing of it. I suppose timing is never good. What does she really want, when she says 'look in on him'? Just the occasional visit?" This time, the face Leova makes is positively childish, but at least it doesn't last long. "Meara handles the touchy-feely stuff," she waves off. "What's this... Sho... need? Aside from a name that isn't funny." The other question is harder, and evidently requires some sustenance to manage, though at least Leova doesn't eat the last of her bread weyrling-quick. Quite. Though she does collect the crumbs. "He's an apprentice now, she's real proud. And she should be. Don't want him to waste it." Madilla seems to be making an effort not to smile at the childishness of that face. "Consider it career development, then. Broadening your skills," she suggestions, lightly. She helps herself to another piece of fruit as she adds, "No, he definitely shouldn't waste it. It brings so many possibilities." The forwards inclined dip of her head confirms it, even. "Sho just needs the occasional ear and shoulder, as far as I can tell. Somehow who listens. He's not from here, doesn't seem to want to be here, and he's... mouthy. Touchy. Just unhappy, I suppose. Enough so that he's already been beat up at least twice." Which draws a frown to her expression. To that, Leova can only grunt something beneath her breath, something along the lines of how she likes her skills the way they are, thank you. "So why doesn't he go back?" the greenrider's got to ask. "If he's old enough, could drop him off pretty much anywhere. Even the islands." Those islands. Her smile's returned, if briefly, and there just might be a gleam in there somewhere. Despite herself, Madilla does smile at that grunt, even if she's quick to add a consoling, "Don't worry - it won't be forever. And then you'll be done with it, have earned the gratitude of your cousin, and perhaps have a future Journeyman crafter willing to help you out." More dubious is her, "What, maroon him on the islands? With-- isn't that where they dropped the exiles from Fort? I'm not sure, to be honest, exactly why Sho is here. Something about an uncle? He's only fifteen. Perhaps he's not sure of his own freedoms, yet. Is that even old enough for him to make up his own mind?" More dubious is also Leova's renewed grunt, this one even more monosyllabic. If that's even possible. Perhaps it's more meant to encourage Madilla's smile. For the islands, though: "Could be a different island," she offers, like that would make all the difference. "Reckon it's old enough for him to make up his mind half a different ways. Just got to stick to one." She finds Lily out of the corner of her eyes again. "Or two." It /does/ encourage the smile, intended to or not. "A different island," she repeats, laughing. "I'll suggest it to him." Not seriously, though, not if her expression is any indication. "I do wonder why they aren't claimed... if they are liveable, I mean. It'd be more difficult during a Pass, I suppose, but if there's space there..." She breaks off from that thought to nod again, still amused, but radiating contentment nonetheless. "Or two. It's something he should think about, I suppose - picking /something/. Deciding. Apprentices have by then, almost always, after all. Not that fifteen is too late to start that, either." "There you go." Leova doesn't laugh, but she does straighten some, enough to knuckle at her cheek where she'd been leaning on it. "Could guess a couple reasons. Troublesome types out there. And, way out in the middle of nowhere, hard to get a ship to go that far, even if it could. Better routes for trade goods, you know? But. Your boy. Should definitely think about it. Pick /something/, go with it. He applies himself, he learns not to mouth off, that's the main thing." Madilla nods once, twice, and even a third time, as Leova talks, the last the firmest of all, confirmed quickly by, "You're right. I think-- I /hope/ he's learned his lesson, this last time. Not to react to everything. We'll see." Her optimism is-- well, predictable, probably. One hand lifts, unconsciously, to stroke down the back of the bundle that is her daughter, as she adds, "I suppose you're right on the islands. It seems a pity, though, even so." "If he's not a quick learner, maybe shouldn't be an apprentice anyway," says Leova. Though she does allow, "Though maybe, fine, it's not the same thing. Look at G'brion, hm?" and that's teasing, teasing enough that she can smile right past Madilla touching her daughter. Touching her that way, with such fondness. "Guess it comes with being your kind of crafter, soft-hearted like that... But I hear tell they did things they really shouldn't, Madilla. Knew better, did it anyway. Don't pity them when they have to pay." Her gaze has returned to the healer herself, not smiling, steady. A shadow crosses Madilla's expression at mention of G'brion, though she doesn't let it linger, doesn't pursue it. Instead, cheeks turning pink, she shakes her head. "No-- I didn't mean that. I know what the ones from Fort did. I think they probably deserve that. Like our convicts here deserved their time, too, even if I think they should have been treated better in some ways. I meant... the waste of land." Of the things for which Leova has been too late in her life, this must be another. At least she isn't too late to see the blush, to share her own relief at being on that same page after all. She's got a nod for their convicts, even partially for their treatment, but... "Waste of /land/. You even reckon it's arable, after the Pass and all? Good arable, I mean, not just enough for convicts to scrape by. Can't say as I recall whether it got grubbed like down South." Mulling it over, she absently scrapes the last of what's on her plate up for a final bite, then sets the fork back down just casually enough that it clanks. Leova freezes. All except her eyes, anyway, which turn very slowly towards that bundle over there. By her expression, Madilla hasn't even considered the possibility of the land not being arable; it makes her frown in thought, mouth opening to, presumably, make a remark on the subject just in time for The Clank. She doesn't even have time to turn her attention back towards Lilabet before the inevitable(?) scream. Scarlet faced, and utterly apologetic ("It's not your fault! No, really, it's fine."), she takes her leave. In a hurry. |
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