Logs:Speech Therapy
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| RL Date: 12 April, 2013 |
| Who: Madilla, N'ky |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'ky's speech therapy session takes a detour. |
| Where: Weyrhealer's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 7, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, D'kan/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions |
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| Weyrhealer's Office, High Reaches Weyr The Weyrhealer's Office has clearly been recently redecorated; much of the furniture looks quite new. The room has been set out into several different spaces: a desk, with a chair behind it and two set out in front, several bookcases, and then a little sitting area. The hangings on the wall, the rugs, and the fabrics used to cover the chairs all match: a color scheme of purples and reds that aim for warmth and comfort. A kettle hangs above the little hearth that provides warmth to the room, with a small shelf next to it where a collection of teas, as well as mugs and spoons, can be found. They've been meeting once or twice a seven for a while, now. A Harper was present at the first one, there to lend her expertise to Madilla - who openly admitted that she'd never done anything like this before - but she hasn't been back since: it's just Madilla and N'ky, alone in her office of an early evening. Tonight, the office door is open at the appointed time, and Madilla is inside, pottering around by the little hearth with a kettle that's just about to boil. She's humming under her breath, some nameless melody that could be a lullaby... or perhaps something altogether different (she's not exactly harper-skilled). There's a gentle rap on the door to announce his presence before N'ky slips inside, looking slightly rumpled from whatever lessons and activities his day has included so far. "Weyrhealer Madilla." His greeting is softened by tiredness, and he runs his fingers through his growing curls as he waits to be invited to sit. There's been some progress during his sessions with her, though whether that's because he's grown comfortable with her presence or not is indeterminable; when speaking to those he doesn't know, or when his emotions are high, there have been definite relapses. "N'ky," greets Madilla in that warm, gentle voice of hers, said without turning around, though it does, of course, interrupt her humming. "Come on in. Do you want tea, or some klah?" There's a sitting area in her office, and it's there that they usually meet - casual and comfortable, rather than anything too formal. Her folder of notes is already sitting on the little table that sits in between the couch and chairs, all ready to go. "How have things been going?" "K-k--" N'ky stops, breathes deep, closes his eyes, and tries again after exhaling. "Klah, please." He hubs his hands on his thighs, across the buttery softness of his first pair of leathers, and gently shrugs his shoulders in response to her question. He's slow in responding verbally, as his expression suggests he's thinking through what to say - how much he's comfortable with sharing. "It's... it's been better." The admission is quiet, and comes with him looking to the floor and knotting his fingers into his hair. "But, um, I think I've been doing better. I've been trying to be better." A standard line from every session: he's trying. Madilla turns her head, watchful, as N'ky stumbles over that first word, silent encouragement written into her expression. "Klah it is," is her reply, made without reference to that attempt-- indeed, she doesn't say anything more until she's on her way towards the sitting area, two mugs in hand. "I know you've been trying," she says. "You've been working really hard. Do you want to talk about anything, anything in particular, before we get started?" Both mugs get set down upon the table, as the healer takes her seat in the armchair, and reaches for her folder of notes. N'ky pads along behind Madilla, flopping with teenaged lankiness, all long-limbed and graceless, into his seat. He reaches for his klah, curls both hands around it briefly, then sets it back down so he can lean forward with both elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. The weyrling sits like that for what feels, to him, like an eternity; in reality, it's little more than a matter of seconds. "I-I'm... I'm worried, miss--- j-journeywoman Madilla." His stutter gives away his discomfort; the fact that he's still hiding his face, with his fingers pulling tight on what curls they can reach, more so. "I not g-good enough. N-not for anyone, other than Cailluneth." "N'ky," says Madilla, softly. She sets down her notes again, and reaches instead of her tea: it's a telling move, one that suggests at present she's more interested in dealing with this than any more formal speech therapy. "Do you want to tell me about it? Why you're worried about that?" Her hands twist about the contours of her mug, rather as though she's restraining a natural desire to get up, cross towards him, and hug him instead. She chews on her lip, and then adds, "You know you can say anything to me. Anything at all." His head drops a little lower so he can tangle his fingers more thoroughly into his hair, with his face still pretty much hidden by his forearms. N'ky's shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he takes, and it's a few long moments before he talks. When he does, it's quiet. "I d-didn't get a silver thread. I th-thought I would... I t-told Quinlys I wanted to b-be a w-weyrlingmaster, b-but then I did so badly in my exams, a-and I'm still struggling to catch up, even th-though all I do is s-study." There's a very wet-sounding sniff there, and he pauses, taking another of those deep breaths. "Things are b-bad with K'zin; I'm j-just a greenrider. I'll be j-just a greenrider, and h-he's... he's g-going to be so much m-more, s-since Rasavyth p-picked him and he's a bronzerider and he w-won't want me as a friend b-because I'll not be good enough for him... C-Cailluneth heard him t-tell Ilicaeth he was j-just a blue. B-back when we... wh-when we first Impressed. Just a blue. Ilicaeth's m-much more than that, b-but if he's just a blue, then... th-then what are we?" Another sniff, and N'ky unknots his fingers from his hair to rub a balled-up fist under his nose, before hiding away again. Madilla stands, now, setting her still-untouched mug back down upon the table, before crossing around it so that she can sit down beside the weyrling. She draws a clean handkerchief out from the pocket of her apron and offers it over, whether or not N'ky looks up to see it. "You're not just a greenrider. There's no such thing as just a greenrider," she says, quiet but sure. "Meara's a greenrider, isn't she? Leova is. We've had greenriding Acting Weyrleaders in the past, or so I'm told. I think you'd be an excellent weyrlingmaster, one day, and I don't think getting a silver thread - or not - will be the deciding factor in that." There's earnestness in her gaze, and empathy set deep into her tone. "If K'zin doesn't think you're good enough to be his friend because Rasavyth is bronze, then he's not worth being friends with. I don't-- I can't believe he thinks that, N'ky. I really can't. You're a greenrider, and I think that's a wonderful thing. Half the riders in this Weyr are greenriders. And the Weyr values every one of you." "He d-doesn't think like that... I d-don't think he does." N'ky's quick to shake his head, peeping around his fingers at Madilla now that she's beside him. "I th-think like that. I'm n-not going to be g-g-good enough for him if I'm n-not... n-not something, and I th-thought I c-could be, i-if I... i-i-if they gave me a ch-chance wi-with a-- I w-wouldn't change Cai f-for anything, b-but I-- I-I wish... I w-wish Ras w-was... w-was... d-different. I m-miss my best friend b-but I keep p-pushing him away b-because I kn-know it's wh-wh-what he'll d-do to me l-later b-because I'm n-not s-s-someone s-special and I j-just s-s-stutter and I-I'm s-stupid a-a-and I... I... I-I--" His shoulders shudder as the tears come at the end of that rapid-fire stammerfest, fuelled by exhaustion, emotion, embarrassment and everything else that's weighing on his mind. Madilla's expression is stricken. She doesn't hesitate, and instead, reaches out to attempt to take the much-taller weyrling into her arms, and to rock him, if she can. "No," she says. "No, no, no. N'ky. You are special, and you are important, and you can't just push people away like that. Don't you think people need to make up their own opinions about you, about whether you're worth being friends? K'zin cares about you." Again, she bites her lip, working against the strained note of deep, emotional dismay that is so audible in her reply. "People care about you. I care about you, and Cailluneth does, and do you really think she would have chosen someone who wasn't worthwhile?" N'ky leans heavily back against Madilla and her embrace, and is easily rocked. He's a while before he stops sobbing enough to talk; the hug seems to draw out even more - what's been pent up for a long time, perhaps. "It's h-hard with him," the weyrling finally murmurs in a tear-heavy, hiccupy voice, words intentionally slow in his delicate state. "There's t-too much h-happening, and I-- I f-feel too c-caught up trying to help everyone else and t-trying to study h-harder and th-that leaves n-nothing, with lessons and c-caring for Cailluneth... a-and K'zin kissed me and it m-made all my f-feelings change b-because I've w-wanted too but d-didn't think he would and didn't know if I should, s-so I... I k-kind of ran away f-from him, and... a-and it was wrong, b-but I didn't know wh-what else to do." For a long time, Madilla doesn't even try and say anything else: she waits for N'ky, apparently perfectly content to hold him for as long as she needs to. When he speaks, she listens, her expression telling of genuine thoughtfulness, and concern that has yet to fade. "Talk to him," she says, as her hand strokes the weyrling's back, much as she would do if he were one of her children. "I think," she says, gently, "you need to focus on helping yourself, and less about other people. Have you talked to K'zin? Told him how you feel? I know it's confusing. I know he's--" She hesitates, and then shifts her words, just slightly, away from the bronzerider. "It's all going to be fine, I promise. Everything will get easier." "I... I-I don't know how I feel. I l-love him and he's... h-he's like my b-brother, and my best f-friend, b-but it feels... i-it feels blurry. I'm... scared of it. My d-dad would f-flay me if he th-thought I was thinking that way." N'ky squeezes his hands between his thighs, palm pressed tight to palm. He takes a deep, calming breath, exhaling it slowly and softly. "It's ok here and I k-know it is, but it's h-hard to unthink wh-what I've grown up with -- b-but I'm o-ok thinking that way a-about Bones." This confuses him, which is evident in his quavering tone. The weyrling stiffens slightly, clearing his throat in an attempt to banish some of the tear-thickness from his voice. "I'm s-sorry for crying on you, m-miss Madilla. I've r-ruined our lesson." Madilla draws back, now, and offers that handkerchief again, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. "There's no need to apologise," she says, after he's finished talking. "None whatsoever. I think... I suspect that it all plays in to the same thing, in the end, and that being comfortable and content with who you are, and loving yourself, will make a lot of difference to your stutter." She doesn't move from the couch, even if she's no longer holding the weyrling. Instead, she gives him a hesitant smile. "It's difficult, adapting to a different way of things. In my family, women didn't have opinions; we did what we were told. It would never have been approved of, for men to love other men, and I had to adapt to that, too. If... in a different way." She opens her mouth to say something more, hesitates, and then barrels on. "It takes time to adjust. And... to work out what feels right to you. And that's okay." N'ky takes the handkerchief, but is hesitant to use it, nervously passing it instead from one hand to the other. "Your f-family sounds like mine." He sniffs, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose. "M-mine don't like the W-Weyr. My uncle is here, but I've not s-seen my family since... s-since Ansly t-told me to come. They've not b-been in touch at all." He shrugs in an attempt to dismiss it as unimportant, but it comes across as not entirely honest. "Cailluneth i-is all I need though. I know she l-loves me. I j-just... I miss them, s-sometimes. I miss my m-mum." There's something faintly pained in the way Madilla sucks in her breath, then, right through her teeth. "I haven't spoken to my family in-- ten turns or so," she admits. "They... feel like I am a bad influence. But it doesn't have to be that way. Once you're able to travel that far, you should visit. Show them how well you're doing; how proud they should be. Just because I-- it doesn't have to go that way." There's a plea in her voice, one that she can't quite moderate into something professional. "Of course you miss your mother. I miss mine, too. And... having a dragon isn't... that is, you do need people, too. Family. Friends. Whatever. You should write to them." "O-oh, no, n-no, I couldn't go home, n-not with Cailluneth, they'd be a-awfully angry, j-journeywoman Madilla... n-no, I couldn't." N'ky shakes his head emphatically, biting down on his lip and scrunching up his tear-reddened nose. "I h-have a cousin who, um, I-Impressed a long time ago, a-and he came back and, um, h-his dragon ate s-some of my family's f-flock, and they... that's why they d-don't like Weyrs, or d-dragons, and... w-well, other r-reasons too, but no, I c-couldn't go back with her." He blinks, then scrubs his hands over his eyes. The handkerchief lies across one thigh, unused. As he relaxes more, the stutter starts to fade, though not entirely as lingering tension makes its presence known. "I have a new f-family here. The Weyr is my family, and D'kan is l-like my big brother, and K'zin is my little b-brother, and Alida i-is a... a g-grumpy big sister, but a good one. Sh-she still pretends we're not f-friends, but I th-think we are. J-just on... o-on odd terms." He shrugs a shoulder. "I w-want to be the b-best I can for them, but e-especially for Cailluneth." There's something-- something yearning in Madilla's expression, just for a moment, as N'ky speaks. She pushes it back, returning to the still-emotional, but less overwhelming so, look of sympathy that she has been wearing throughout much of this. "Oh, N'ky," she says. "I'm sorry. But-- you're right. You've made a new family for yourself. I did, too, and honestly, it really does make all the difference. It's--" She manages, this time, to smile. "All you need to do, to be the best you for them, is to be yourself, N'ky. Don't put too much pressure on yourself: just do what you can. Be who you are." N'ky has a smile in return - a watery one, but a smile none-the-less. "I w-want to be better than who I am. I'm b-better today than I was y-yesterday, a-and I'll be better still t-t-tomorrow." A post-crying shudder catches him on the 't', and he snorts in frustration after. "J-journeywoman Madilla? C-can I tell you s-something?" Given he's just borne his heart to her, he doesn't wait for permission to go ahead before he leans in, secret-telling close. "I h-hate my stutter." Then he leans back again, cheeks flushed and sheepish smile bitten back on. "I j-just pretend that it d-doesn't matter. I, um, p-pretend a lot of things don't m-matter." Madilla's mouth opens, and it's likely that she's about to say that he can tell her anything-- but he does anyway. She sucks in a breath, nodding. "I know," she says. "And that's why we're working on it. Because we're going to make sure you can be the best person you possibly can be. Someone you can be proud of. Now-- do you think you're ready to start? Do you want some water, first?" While clearing his throat, N'ky rubs his hands vigorously over his face, then rakes his fingers through his hair. "I th-think I'm ready." He leans forward to pick up his klah mug, raising it to sip from despite it having cooled considerably. One last little shudder runs through him, and he then nods again, curling his fingers around his mug and settling comfortably back in the chair, with a warm smile for Madilla. "Yep. I'm r-ready, journeywoman Madilla." |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Speech Therapy"D'kan (D'kan (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 13 Apr 2013 07:36:38 GMT.
Madilla did say "anything at all". And BOOM!
K'zin (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 13 Apr 2013 07:45:30 GMT.
Aw, poor N'ky. He needs non-confusing cuddles.
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 14 Apr 2013 04:59:02 GMT.
- ^; Oh, N'ky! Poor little baboo. (And poor Madilla, too!) So saaaad. Though he couldn't have picked a better person to confide in, I imagine.
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