Logs:Stupid And Crazy
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| RL Date: 11 April, 2011 |
| Who: Madilla, Tiriana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana and Madilla, on babies. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 6, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, Varens/Mentions |
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| Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms. Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them. Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves. It's not unusual to find Tiriana in stores, often being found there going over one thing or another. But this is clearly more pleasure than business, if you can call it pleasure, based on the amount of grumbling around her. At least Rianev seems to be having fun, giggling and squealing in that way only babies can. Tiriana has, of all things, turned an empty box into a makeshift playpen, keeping the toddler contained while he smashes away with a set of blocks. For her part, Mom is sorting through several more boxes, all of them full of clothes for someone just about Son's size. Madilla turns the corner into this particular part of the storage caverns without seeming to pay much attention to who else might be there - that's why there's that "Oh!" of surprise a moment or two later, as she catches in her gaze first Rianev, and then, his mother. It's the former who earns the most of her attention, though: she crouches beside the box, leaning in to get a good look at the blocks, and, "That looks like fun! What a lovely amount of noise you can make." The healer is sans child, and carrying with her a stack of clothes That are probably roughly the same size as the ones Tiriana is sorting through. If, probably, more inclined towards 'girl'. Good nature and love of destruction: Rianev has plainly got the best of both his parents. He answers Madilla with a big smile and a laugh and pushes himself up to his feet so he can offer her a block. Or show it off; hard to tell when they can't really explain yet. At any rate, the action's the same, and earns a glance from Tiriana in the process. She sighs, and sprawls bonelessly by the latest box to look up at Madilla. "He grew again." As though this is some sort of surprise. Madilla, it seems, is inclined towards caution in this face of blocks. "How lovely," she tells Rianev, all big smiles. "That's a /blue/ block. What other ones do you have?" Her sideways glance at Tiriana is easily identified as amused; setting down her bundle of presumably outgrown clothes, she agrees, sagely, "They /do/ seem to do that. At least there are plenty of clothes around to keep them properly covered." Rianev looks at Madilla for a minute like he doesn't quite understand, and then he offers the blue one again before he sits/falls down. It's kind of the same thing on his chubby toddler legs. "He's the Weyrwoman's son. He should have nice things. But even /I/ can't justify wasting the marks on something he's just going to throw up all over. It's disgusting. When do they stop being disgusting?" It's plantive, but she leans over to Rianev's box and plucks him up to hold him all the same for a little bit. If Madilla intended to revise her plan of /not/ taking the block, she doesn't really get the chance to make good on it. So she draws herself back to her feet, and says, instead, "They do get better. I'm told. Lily's still learning to use the--" she breaks off, and makes a rueful face. "It is a problem though, isn't it? Some of the things in here are just /lovely/, and it seems a shame when they get all dirty." Like one of the little dresses she's carrying, which she unfolds to give a wistful glance at. Alas. "How old's she, now?" wonders Tiriana, as she bounces Rianev and wrinkles her nose up when he shoves the block in her face. "Faranth. Girls. Never having one of those. Well, not really an issue anyway, because I am so done now and I don't know why I didn't /between/ this one away--" because she totally doesn't have a fond smile as she pries the block away from her son before he can start hitting with it or something. "Anyway, even if I had one, wouldn't dress her in that froo-froo crap." Whatever Tiriana might say about this child, or any future-children-that-won't-happen, Madilla seems to imply, with her amused expression, that she believes otherwise. "No? Poor Rianev. I've always thought it a sad thing, not to have siblings. I wish Lily had one." And in answer to the question, as she folds up the little dress again, ready to be put back in the stacks of clothing, "She turned two a handful of months ago. I think she likes the lace and ribbons look; I imagine I would have, too, if it had been an option when I was little." "He's got a whole Weyr full of kids," says Tiriana, looking more puzzled by this than anything else. "I mean, there's him, and yours, and K'del's got his, and that's just the ones I can think of right off. Not that he's allowed to play with K'del's brats--might rub off on him." What might, she doesn't say, but she does give Madilla a you-know-what look all the same. As for lace-and-ribbons: a snort. "Faranth, my mama tried that on me and I pitched a fit. Cyrra let 'er, though, some." "I suppose," allows Madilla, as she reaches into the shelf to pull out a pile of clothes to replace the set she's just returned. Flicking through them with a thoughtful expression, she adds, placidly, "Nikalas and Kasey seem like nice boys. I'm not sure whether Lily quite knows what to make of them all, though, I admit. She's a rather-- insular child. Anyway - if you were so disinclined towards pretty things like that, perhaps a daughter of yours would be, too. Though you and R'uen /do/ appear to like your clothes, now." Beat. "Even if it won't matter, because you don't intend to have another." "They're K'del's," says Tiriana, matter-of-factly. "Rianev's all--everybody's friend. He's like his daddy. So maybe if we had a girl it'd be like him: Rev's always liked clothes. Me, I didn't until I was on up into my teens. And then I figured out that I could still kick the shit out of people even while looking hot. --Here, hold him." And Rianev's unceremoniously held up to Madilla, while Tiriana gives the boxes another long look. "I have to find /something/ or he's just going to have to go naked from now on." Taking Rianev - even though it means dropping the clothes she /was/ looking through - Madilla leans up against the end of a shelf, jiggling him lightly. "I don't know that girls are /so/ different to boys," she says, idly, though by this point, most of her attention is on the toddler in her arms: biological clock gogogo. Again. "There were some gender-neutral things in the lot I just brought back, if it helps. Lily's still small for her age; they might fit." Smiling at Rianev, "You're going to break hearts, one day, aren't you? You'll be /dashing/." "If they're too big, I guess that's good, too. Growing room?" A frown, but Tiriana reaches for Lilabet's hand-me-downs to start sorting through them; it's as good as place to begin as anywhere. "Why is this so hard? I can run the whole damn Weyr and kids are just--ugh." Eloquent, she is. "Of course he is, though. I mean, have you /seen/ his parents?" Beat. "Are you going to do it again?" "That's true," enthuses Madilla, firmly. "Growing room is useful." Her expression turns amused, if inclined towards the fond, as she continues, "It's different from running a weyr, I suppose. Or an Infirmary. You're responsible for an entire little person-- and there's so much to teach them. And to protect them from." She watches Rianev, silent for several moments, before she adds, "Have a baby? Or have a baby the way I did? I hope so. If... circumstances work out." Rianev, in that way children often are, is fascinated by this new person holding him, and his fat fingers reach for Madilla's hair, nose, clothes; whatever he can reach, really. "The Weyr, at least you can tell people what to do and they'll do it, mostly. Or they just know because they've been doing this for turns and turns. He--I mean, he knows what I'm saying, sometimes--at least, I think he does, little stuff, but... I just wish he'd start talking more already. You know, more than 'no' and 'Mama' and that sort of thing." She shrugs, and frustration flickers across her face. As for Madilla's own procreational intentions: "I meant more generally, but whatever. You looking at B'tal again or want to spread the love or...?" Tactful, she is not. Madilla doesn't seem to mind Rianev's fingers - and she'll even coo the names to things as he grabs them, cheerfully: 'Nose!' 'Hair!' 'Yes, that's my ear!' "That's true. It's harder to control children. I'm sure he'll get more language soon-- they pick it up pretty quickly, once they start. In my experience." Again, there's hesitation before she answers the last, though when she does speak, she glances across at the Weyrwoman to do so. "I don't know. I was-- I was in a relationship, for a time. I'd hoped-- I will have to see what the future brings." But she's obviously mourning the children that haven't eventuated, in the meantime. "I hope so," admits Tiriana, with just a hint of worry in place of the usual bluster. She studies Rianev with a faint frown, though all Madilla's vocabulary-boosting has a faint smirk perking up again. Rianev's certainly happy enough playing this game, giggling again and touching everything to hear its name. Tiriana continues, "You have the worst taste in men, for such a nice girl." Look! compliments! "Then again, the nice guys are probably all too busy chasing bitches. Just look at R'uen." Definitely smirking now. Reassuringly, Madilla tells Tiriana, "He seems perfectly normal for his age, as far as I can tell. If he isn't talking more in a couple of months, we," the healers, presumably, "could probably work more closely with you, and him, but I don't think it will be necessary. Lily was slow to talk, too." More names! More bodyparts! She seems to enjoy this game. She sounds more amused than anything, as she adds, "Perhaps that's true. I don't have a terribly good track record. I'm sure-- that is, I /hope/-- something will work out." All this while, Tiriana's been slowly sorting through clothes, until she finally has a few things, including some of Lilabet's, set aside as keepers, while the rest go back in the box. It's closed up and pushed aside so she can eye the next one. "I'll keep that in mind," she says slowly, in response to the former. To the latter, "Back when I was living at Telgar with my aunt and uncle, my aunt always said boys are just stupid." Beat. "Course, R'dur said women are just crazy, but not where Aunt Bri could ever hear him." "Good," says Madilla, simply. "Though truthfully, I think he's fine. Aren't you, Rianev? Oh yes you are." Oh, the babytalk! "Stupid and crazy. Stupid and crazy. I think, perhaps, we're all just a little selfish. Focused on our own needs, and not those of others; though it could also be argued that we parents are sometimes too focused on our children, too." But given the way she's looking at Rianev, she doesn't quite agree with that last one: of /course/ they're focused on their children. How could they not be? "So... we're stupid and crazy," Tiriana sums up all that last for Madilla. The latest box is studied a long moment; then Tiriana gives up on it and hefts herself to her feet, the small pile of clothes she's keeping in hand. Rianev at once loses interest in Madilla in favor of stretching his arms out to his mother and calling, "Mama!" Which, for all its simplicity, makes Tiriana's face light up in a way not often seen. Maybe Madilla's on to something. "We should get home. Going to be dinner time in a minute and /some/body is still filthy." Madilla seems mostly amused by that summation, and laughs, genuinely, even if she doesn't remark on it. She watches the way Tiriana's face lights, too, expression faintly - just barely - knowing. Offering Rianev back to his mother, she says, "Mm, and I should be picking Lily up soon, too. We have plans for tonight: just the two of us." Rebound therapy. "Have a good evening." "You, too," says Tiriana as she takes her boy back. She settles him on one hip and gives him a nudge toward Madilla. "Say bye-bye," she orders. "Go on, we've practiced this." And he hesitates, and buries his face in her neck, and then quickly waves at Madilla, one of those clumsy baby-fist-clenching waves that are always so cute. And then mother and son head on their way to clean up for dinner. "Good bye, Rianev!" calls Madilla, warmly. And then she has to go and find some clothes for Lilabet - quickly, before it's time for her to go, too. |
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