Logs:Talking, Not Listening
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| RL Date: 14 September, 2009 |
| Who: Ebeny, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla meets Ebeny; they talk about children and rude people, and happiness. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 10, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. It's actually quite warm for autumn, though not exactly the kind of weather that encourages swimming except in the hardiest of people. Still, the sunny weather has brought a few people out to the lakeshore, and Madilla is one of these, perched atop a boulder with her skirts smoothed carefully over her legs, and what looks like a quilt-in-progress spread on top. She's working on it at the moment, hunched over her work to guide her stitches carefully, except for when her head lifts to watch the game of chase carried out by a group of children, which wanders rather close to the water's edge on a regular basis. She might not be braving the water so much as to go for a swim, but Ebeny looks to have been wandering along in the shallows paddling for a while, her trail of footsteps mingling with those left by the children. For once, it's not the weyrling not looking where she's going, but one of the little ones, who blunders into long legs with a quiet exclamation. "Woah there," Ebeny says, reaching out to right the girl before she can tumble into the water. In the process of redirecting the child away from the shore, her gaze finds Madilla and she offers over a wave paired with, "Hi." It's the sound of impact that draws Madilla's attention up this time, gaze narrowing in concern, except that Ebeny's actions seem to be enough to avert disaster. Her gaze remains on the child right until Ebeny's greeting averts it; her own wave is slightly more hesitant, though coupled with a genuine enough smile. "Good afternoon," she says, warmly. And, "Yesterday's rain means they're a little-- rambunctious." The children, presumably, who resume their game in short order, though perhaps a little further from the actual shoreline - at least until it creeps back down again. "It's alright," Ebeny replies, taking steps away from the water. "I'd rather have them excitable and running all over the place than upset and teary." She shrugs and smiles a little ruefully. "Though I admit my only interaction with children is looking after my nephew on occasion. So maybe excitable and running all over the place isn't as great as I think it is." Hesitation, a blink, then, "I'm Ebeny, Laurienth's. I'm really sorry, but I don't know your name." Madilla secures her needle in her work without glancing back at it, keeping green eyes focused, lightly thoughtful, upon the greenrider. "I didn't know your name until this moment," she notes, with a smile and a note of amusement to her voice, "so there's no need to be sorry for not knowing mine. Madilla, Apprentice Healer. /I/ prefer the excitable, too; they wear out eventually, and in the meantime, they're just sweet." Her gaze slides away to follow two of the boys as they charge at one another, affection writ large in her expression, though she turns her attention back promptly, even almost apologetic. Ebeny's giggle isn't all that audible, just a couple of notes until it's gone. "I suppose not," she agrees. "Nice to meet you," follows with barely a pause, then she's stepping aside so she's not in the way of any observation of the children's game, folding herself down to the sand to sit with her legs crossed. "It's alright," she assures with a quick smile, for any trace of apology. "They're fun to watch. It's kind of sad that we don't get to just run around like that when we grow up." "You, too," says Madilla, promptly, and with another of those warm, genuine smiles. The rest of what Ebeny has to say makes her flush faintly pink, though her response is earnestly in agreement. "They are, aren't they? So much-- enthusiasm. Life." Her hands smooth down the work in her lap as her gaze slides back towards the children, as though she simply can't stop herself. "I suppose it's proper, that we grow out of it, concentrate on more important things. But. I think you're right. I suppose that's why I like being around them, at least in part. Experiencing it, even if I can't usually join in." "I guess we have to grow up, we're told how to behave," Ebeny quietly muses. "We're told what's right and how to conform. Not in terms of society, I mean in terms of being a grown-up. We're told that doing things we used to do are silly. So we don't do them." She drags together a little pile of sand, begins to shape it into something that could be a tiny sand-Hold. "It must be nice, to join in. Be a part of that. Have them trust you enough to be one of them." Ebeny's words make Madilla pause; by her expression, she's briefly deep in thought. "That's true," she agrees, after a few moments more. "We're supposed to give up childish things, and be responsible, because that is the way things are. And to some degree, it's not unreasonable: someone has to be responsible, after all. But." Her lips draw together, pursing, as she watches the children. "That doesn't mean we should forget /fun/. It is nice." She continues the thought without pause, without a shift in glance or expression. "I help the nannies sometiems, so they trust me. The children, I mean. Not just the nannies. It's good practice, for when I can have some of my own." "Someone has to be," Ebeny agrees, making a little path in the sand with one finger. Out of nowhere, she cracks a massive grin. "Can you imagine if the world was run by children? You'd find little piles of them asleep in corridors because they'd all insisted that they wanted to and could stay up way past their bedtimes." She manages to fight the ridiculous grin away and sighs. "...I think people are afraid to have fun because they think they'll be humiliated in some way if they step outside the box. It's... not right." Now the path is gone over again, dug deeper. "It's good that you'll know what you're doing, how to take care of your children. I'm half-scared I'm going to break Rys when I look after him, so who knows what I'd be like with a kid of my own." It takes Madilla only a moment more after Ebeny's grin to match it - she even outright laughs. "It /would/ be funny," she says. "And we'd have ice cream and cake for every meal." Her expression turns more solemn as the greenrider continues, even to the point that she lets out a little sigh, though she sounds determined when she responds. "We shouldn't be afraid to be what we want to be. To want what we want. It shouldn't matter." She digs out her needle again, examining it between her fingers for a moment before she resumes her work, adding, then, "I see that a lot. Being scared, I mean. Women who don't know how to hold their own child after they give birth, but a few months later? They're all so much more confident. I'm sure there will still be all kinds of things I won't know; it's such an enormous undertaking. But worthwhile, I think." "If I had my way, it wouldn't matter," Ebeny says softly, glancing across at Madilla at the very last second. "But I guess we all have to accept that not everyone thinks or believes what we do. Imposing something on others makes everyone as bad as each other." She flexes her shoulders back and looks out at the water, then down at the sand-construction she's up to, like she's not quite thought something regarding it through. "I think it must be worthwhile. They, rather. Children. Laurienth was worthwhile. Is. I know raising her can't really be like raising an actual baby, but..." Her shoulders move again, this time a shrug, a bit helpless. Madilla speaks with feeling as she says, "We do. Most people simply don't seem to be able to comprehend that another's viewpoint might be worthwhile also." Evidently, she's had some experience with this. Her gaze slides towards Ebeny, eyes lighting at sight of the sandhold, though she says nothing of it; her needle keeps working through the fabric in her lap, requiring, apparently, only intermittant visual attention. "I imagine there are some similarities. Between children and small dragons, I mean. I can't imagine any way in which it /wouldn't/ be worthwhile." Beat. "But I have wanted children since I was one myself, so I may be-- biased. Some would say deluded." "It's sad," the greenrider utters quietly. "People do a lot of talking. Not enough listening." Ebeny shakes her head at that last word of Madilla's, quite strongly, though her voice doesn't reach any great volume or sharp pitch when she insists, "You want what you want and you're allowed to. If you know what you want, you're already ahead of a lot of people. Perhaps that 'some' are just jealous. They don't like blundering about trying to find what they want out of life." Madilla lets her attention rest on Ebeny as the greenrider speaks, her head tilting into a half nod a couple of times, though never with enormous vigour, despite the determined agreement visible in her exprsesion. "Perhaps," she allows, eventually. "It's easier to think that than to believe that they genuinely think my desires are less-- acceptable than theirs." She lets her lips, slowly, curve into another smile. "Their loss, isn't that what people say? Not mine. Have you great plans for your life, Ebeny? You must be close to graduation, now. I've... lost track. Since." Ebeny nods the once, just a twitch of her head. "Their loss. Not their happiness, not their life, besides. People should keep out of what doesn't affect them," is quiet, without the force that might be expected behind such words. "Not long to go," she confirms, of graduation. She tucks her knees up a bit and knots her arms around them. "I've never really had plans," she admits. "I didn't plan on being Searched, or Impressing. I assumed I'd have a family one day, but never actively took steps towards it. I'd just... like to be happy. I am... happy. Just that and to try and live without hurting anybody." Madilla gives her work an appraising glance, then secures her needle again, stretching back so that she can straighten her upper body and flex her shoulders. "They should. I suppose they never will, though. In general. Not all people, just some." Her interest in Ebeny's plans seems real enough, no feigned smiles; her comments are equally, apparently, sincere. "To be happy. I think that's perhaps the most important ambition one could have. Isn't that what matters, ultimately? The details aren't important, unless you do have more specific ambitions." "I hope it is," Ebeny answers gently, quirking a tiny smile. "I think that's worthwhile too. And making other people happy. Trying to, anyway." The sand-Hold gets a final look-over, then she's trying to clamber to her feet without trampling on it by accident. "Laurienth calls, I'm afraid. It was nice speaking with you. Maybe we'll meet again?" That green of hers really must be calling and then some, since the weyrling doesn't linger much beyond the time it takes to smile, a proper one, bright whilst it's there. Who knows where she's left her boots? Madilla's mouth is already opening to respond when Ebeny draws herself to her feet, making those farewells. Hastily, though her words really get out after the greenrider is already in motion, she says, "It was a pleasure, Ebeny. I'd like that. Have a good afternoon!" She watches after the other woman, expression part amused, part-- simply content, perhaps, before, finally, she turns herself back more firmly to her work. |
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