Logs:The All Clear
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| RL Date: 21 September, 2013 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova gets the all-clear for returning to wing work. She and Madilla talk recent events. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 11, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Jinja/Mentions, Y'rel/Mentions |
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| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
It's a truth universally acknowledged that some things in life are utterly unpredictable... and the time a routine examination takes can certainly sometimes be one of them. Madilla's patient with her patient, answering question after question with seriousness and focus, however ridiculous; on the plus side, by the time she's escorting the older woman to the door, said woman seems calm and appreciative, and the dark haired healer is able to smile at her with apparently genuine warmth. The woman departs - finally! - and Madilla turns, directing her attention towards the greenrider. "That took longer than anticipated; I'm sorry," she says. "Don't. Going to be me someday, after all." Leova gives the healer a one-cornered smile. "Then you." If they live that long. But she's done now, stepping out of parade rest, scarred and less-scarred hands swinging forward. "Understand if you need a break first, too." Madilla's smile matches Leova's, and then broadens until both corners are in use. "I hope we're less... Well." It's not a sentiment she needs to finish, both because that would invade the privacy of her former patient, and, too, because it's probably not necessary. Shaking her head, she leads the way off towards one of the examination rooms and says, as she walks, "How are you feeling? How are they doing?" Leova has a low chuckle for that, no more. Following Madilla, she says, "Fine. Small. Hard not to compare, Via, and all, though don't know how much of that is memory going off." It's only once they're inside that she says, "Vrianth likes to blur things. You? How are you, yours?" "Does she?" Madilla's got a smile for that, too, interested without actively pushing. "Memory's always a tricky one, I think. I know I found it hard to compare, sometimes, even. They're good. I'm good. It's hard to believe I'll have a ten-turn-old in another five months, but saying that just makes me feel like I'm complaining about feeling old, and it's not that." She's still smiling, now ruefully, when she turns to begin scrubbing down her hands. "Ten. And Via's only five." Rather than watch the ominous scrubbing, Leova hops up on the table but doesn't go so far as to dislodge her clothing, setting her hands behind her and sinking back against them. "If only she could make the lack-of-sleep fade into sleep. But still, it's time to get back to Glacier, proper-like." Her ever-smoky alto is more determined than thrilled. Madilla's chuckle is wry. "Now that would be a useful skill to have on hand," says the healer, turning to glance over her shoulder as she says it. She follows it with: "I don't especially get the impression you're looking forward to being back into things, it being time or no." Does the greenrider want to comment? "Let's take a look, anyway. You're not feeling any discomfort?" Leova's mouth tightens. Her head lowers. "Vrianth's looking forward to it," she says finally. "I'm looking forward to getting out of the caverns. More'n just helping out with the weyrlings, I mean, when they have the decency to have their problems during the day." Nighttime, someone else's on call. "Just don't know. Anyhow." With a shake of her head for discomfort, she disrobes enough to let Madilla do what she has to do, adding afterward, "Just not so much in shape." Madilla holds her tongue while she completes the actual examination (it's only polite), though there's a good chance she uses that time to mull over the greenrider's response. Afterwards, once she's gestured for the greenrider to get dressed again, while she washes her hands (again), she says, "I don't think I'd especially enjoy the idleness of it. I'm glad for Vrianth. In any case, everything looks fine." "Right." Leova doesn't so much focus on getting dressed as let her hands handle the familiar tasks. "So. Guess I'll report in, then." Though she has to ask, "When was the last time you were idle?" "Me?" Madilla's drying her hands on a clean towel, now, and seems surprised by the question, shaking her head. "I don't work all the time, I promise you. But I keep my hands busy, you know that." Does it count? She lowers her gaze to the towel, considering it, and then says, "The difference is, I'm always glad to get back to my substantive job." The greenrider acknowledges that with a nod, deeper than the one for keeping busy and the quilting and all. Then, "Imagine if she had opposable thumbs, hm?" Leova slides off the table then, but slowly, and slides her feet into her boots before clasping them up. "Imagine the size of the quilts! Or she could knit." Evidently, Madilla finds that idea particularly funny, because she laughs, outright, the sound of it likely carrying towards other denizens of the infirmary. Recovering herself, which doesn't take long, she adds, "At least Glacier doesn't seem to be in the centre of any controversy, at the moment." "Vrianth. Knitting." The rider doesn't have to consult her green to shake her head, and allows a brief laugh of her own before she stands. "Let's hope it keeps up, hm? I wonder who'll be next. Seems like there's always something. And the first tithe in, maybe that'll stop the grumbles about how the Holds aren't holding right by us. Or blaming Glacier for it." Abruptly more solemn, Madilla admits, "I hear things. Rumours. Unrest. It seems like there's a whole group of people about the Weyr who don't like the way we're being treated by the holders. One tithe is good, and hopefully Tillek's will come soon, but what about Nabol? And the refugees. One of my Apprentices is from Nabol, and she's fretting herself silly. Not that," her smile is rueful and tired, "she's not a silly girl to begin with." Leova glances briefly towards the door. Doesn't move for it. Does keep her voice down. "Don't know how much you listen to gossip," Madilla, a gossipmonger? "but if it's gotten that far... well. Your girl. Heard anything about her family, anything at all? Might could take a look, come to that. Hope she does get some silly time, at least a little anyway, before she's got to be all grown." "She Stood for the last clutch," says Madilla, addressing that rather simpler topic first, though the seriousness in her expression has not abated. "Anything to escape her duties for a little while, I think. She says her mother thinks everything is fine, nothing to worry about, opportunities for all. I'm not sure Jinja believes her, though. They have some kind of connection to the Blood, not personally, but through work, I think. Which complicates things." Quieter still, she adds, "I can't trust the unrest. I... worry about H'kon's new wing, but I don't know it; that's probably the problem. At least Avalanche was a known quantity." "Yeah? Got her back after, I take it." Leova may only have a fraction of a smile for that escapism, but it's something. "Think someone might be making her mother write that?" she has to ask after further long moments' listening. "What's he in again? Don't keep tabs, though the dragons sometimes. Well. Hear you for Avalanche, at least." Madilla admits, after a moment: "I don't know her mother at all; I don't know what she's like, whether she would insist everything was fine, whether she'd be... made to do something like that. I don't know. But Jinja's worried, and honestly, I don't know how much we can trust the ears we do have in there. Maybe it's nothing." But Madilla, even so, is concerned. "Alpine. Y'rel seems solid, but... I don't know. Unknown quantity, that's all. I'm likely worrying over nothing." "Maybe she wants to believe it. Hope it's so for her, though, that she's safe." Leova hesitates, then stands more squarely. "They're Upper Flight, of course. So they would, they would've taken Fall on first. Heard some of the talk came from there, but second-hand, so you know how it can go. Better that for him than Hailstorm, though," she says with a short laugh. "Seem like he's doing all right, so far?" By her expression, Madilla hopes so too, enough that she's willing to give a firm nod and a smile that's slightly less tentative than it might have been. She's worried about nothing. It's fine, everything's fine. On Alpine, "I think so. It's... we've had other things to think about, for the most part. Much better than Hailstorm, certainly. Or," again, she smiles. "Glacier." Leova's own expression is less sanguine. Still, "Hope that keeps up. Better things. And," she glances towards the door again. "Speaking of Glacier. Best get back, I suppose, and thanks for the look-over. Hear anything else, I'll pass it along, hm?" Madilla's nod is quick. "Of course. It was my pleasure. Good luck with settling back in... and don't let them push you too hard to begin with, mm?" Her second nod is likely for the last of Leova's remarks, as if she doesn't want to put anything more on that subject into words. Instead, "See you soon, Leova. Kiss the babies for me, please?" Oh, such a wistful smile, and ever so slightly self-conscious for it. Leova hitches her shoulder, no promises there. But in sympathetic exchange, "I will, and I'll even ask Anvori to bring them in tomorrow on their way in, so you can kiss them yourself." A quick smile, and then without any questions about Madilla's fecundity, she's out the door. |
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