Logs:The Lucky Guy
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| RL Date: 6 February, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, Z'yi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mention of W'chek and babies ruins ANOTHER perfectly good conversation. |
| Where: Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 12, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: W'chek/Mentions |
| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. Wind and snow make for very bad weather today. The visibility is low, making travel dangerous. Winter sucks. Sitting out on the patio in winter sucks worse. Sitting out on the patio, in the middle of winter, during a snowstorm-- well, that's Z'yi. The big bluerider doesn't seem too terribly bothered by the weather, however, sitting almost painfully upright in his chair at a table nestled under the overhang, a steaming mug of klah in front of him. His left arm is still sling-bound, but every so often he reaches out with his right to bring the mug to his lips for a careful sip. For once, however, he doesn't look necessarily broody: just thoughtful, staring out into the gloomy swirl of snow just beyond. The wonderful thing about the Snowasis is that, if you happen to have been inside the caverns before heading in that direction, it's not actually necessary to go outside on your way. That doesn't explain why Madilla emerges from that particularly nice, warm cave to stand near the doorway with her own steaming mug in hand, staring out over the snowdrift-laden landscape with a shiver-- and a smile. She's staring off into the distance, so that would probably explain why she doesn't - immediately - notice the bluerider, the only other person brave enough to step foot outside, at least for the moment. "You look happy," comes the observation from the bluerider. His attention is already turned back upon the weatherscape, by the time the words leave his mouth. Z'yi manages to not look /entirely/ uncomfortable, even in the position of which he's forced to sit. "And cold." Matter-of-fact, though an underlying question susserates just beneath the crisp syllables. The turning of Madilla's head is so fast that, given the cold, it almost seems the kind of motion likely to snap something frozen. But mostly, it only serves to let her smile /at/ Z'yi for a change, though her words are suitably short in response - not in manner so much as, well, conserving energy and not shivering. "It /is/ cold, isn't it? I just... I don't like to be stuck indoors /all/ day. I need to at least see outside. And it's kind of pretty, isn't it?" Beat. "How's the shoulder?" Periphial vision catches that sharp turn, and a smile lifts the edges of Z'yi's lips in reply. He glances fully at the Healer for a moment, to catch that smile- and offer a slight one in return. Comrades in the cold. "Not as bad as when we had that blizzard a few turns back," he replies; "But it certainly isn't summertime." His drawling native accent is shortened by similar reasons- no reason to exhale all that precious warm air, right? He nods to her first question, and muses, "Isforaith tells me that Iovniath is like this," chin-jut outwards, "All the time." To the latter, "As well as to be expected." He doesn't even grimace! "Summertime," laughs Madilla, repeating the word with what might usually be a shake of the head, but ends up being the slightest twitch, this time. "No, it certainly isn't. It's pretty, this early in winter, even if the same sight will drive most of us mad before spring." She pauses only a moment, there, wrapping her hands more tightly about her drink, which is brought up close to her face, but not sipped at, then adds, "Is she? What a strange-- I suppose it's just still strange of me to think of them being like specific things. Not just a voice." Sympathetically, she adds, "It must be awkward. But-- no complications, right? And you're managing not to use it." That might be a steely-eyed confirmation: right? RIGHT? "Truth," Z'yi comments regarding most everyone being snow-crazed by spring. He turns his full attention from the snow to Madilla, now, and offers a smile that's more genuine than the slight one of before. "Raith is fire and alcohol. C'sel's Corvinth is all shadows. They all have unique," and here he slows to choose a word thoughtfully, "--properties." It's evident from his tone that he enjoys them all, secondhand from his lifemate. "No complications," he confirms. That steely-eyed glower is met with a short, barking laugh; "My wingleader doesn't even let me bathe my own dragon. It's 'punishment' duty for whoever finishes last in drills." To say that he's exasperated over this fact would be to say as if the ocean is wet: true, but entirely insufficient to the scope of things. Madilla shuffles a few steps closer, all the better to actually hear Z'yi over the whip of the wind. She listens with obvious fascination to this description of how the dragons feel, eyes wide. "And they're like that from... from the shell?" she wants to know, sounding curious. "I suppose it makes sense... I think. It's just very strange, when you can't hear or feel or-- whatever. Any of it." If it weren't for the wind, it might be possible to hear a certain wistfulness to her tone; as it is, it's visible in her expression. "Your Wingleader is a wise-- man?," she adds, tackling this rather more professional topic. "Though I imagine that must be frustrating. Have we given you an idea of how much longer?" "Isforaith was," Z'yi confirms. "Only thing I remember about Impressing is... feeling like I'd been roasted alive." Fire, remember? There's an inward smile, crooked with emotion very rarely expressed on his features. "Took a big of getting used to, at least. I think we all were discombobulated for a few weeks." He shakes his head, and takes a longer draw on his quickly-cooling klah, careful to not jostle the left side of his body. "Woman," he replies; "Mielline of Snowdrift. She won't let me until I can do the battery of therapy without pain, and your senior told me that won't be for a few weeks from now." He grimaces, this time. "She won't, however, give me a timeframe for being able to lift heavy objects." An obscure glance; perhaps Madilla would have an idea? The question goes unasked. Madilla's eyes are wide, though she looks a little self-conscious for her reactions, now, and hurriedly buries her face in her klah, taking a few careful sips at it. "Wow," she says, finally, as she lifts her head back up. "I suppose you would have been." She flushes faintly at the correction regarding Mielline, but bobs her head quickly, nonetheless. "She's right. Too much use, now, could cause longer-term damage. A few weeks, though... that's not so bad, surely." A little awkwardly, she adds, "It can take... many months to get back to full strength, I'm afraid. It all depends, though, on how your therapy goes, how well you heal." "Yeah," Z'yi states, tone softer than before. Not frustrated, at least. Perhaps resigned. "I've already noticed the muscle loss." On someone with Z'yi's build, atrophy becomes very obvious, alas. "Guess I just match Raith that much better." With the maimed paw and all. He lifts his right hand to rub over the stubble on his chin, the smile on his face wan and ironic. "Enough of that. How have you been enjoying yourself? With the--" wave of the hand, a vague gesture; "--promotion and all." Sympathy hangs heavily in Madilla's expression, though she manages a smile for the quip about Raith-- evidently, she's aware enough of his particular deformity. Z'yi's onwards shifting of the conversation, though, is not something she fights: she lets go of the topic of his shoulder, and instead, laughing, looking pleased, she says, "I suppose I have been. Gabe-- Gabrion, I mean, and the other apprentices, have been off having exams. It feels nice not to have to go with them. And just... good in general, I suppose, being /free/." She turns a little pink. "It's a long time to wait. Apprentice to Journeyman, I mean." "Gabrion. I think I've met him. Short little thing, right?" comes the question, Z'yi's brow furrowed in thought to place a face with the name. "Freedom." He states the word with another of those inward looks, this time musing rather than bemused. "It gets lonely, sometimes." A flicker of a glance. "Freedom, that is. I reckon it isn't as long of a wait, weyrlinghood to rider, but I remember it." The wait, not being lonely. That was just an off comment sandwiched in there. "Remembering wanting nothing more than people not to be telling me exactly what to do and what not to do every waking moment of the day." Damned restrictions. Madilla has a fond smile for Gabrion, and a hurried nod: short little thing, yes, that's him. "It does," is what she says, though, slowly and carefully, gaze tipped down towards the remains of her distinctly less steaming drink. "This is the first time I've ever had a room to myself, and I find that very lonely. But... it's not just that." Exactly what the loneliness is about she doesn't further remark on, instead adding, "I suppose I had some measure of freedom, as an apprentice. By the end, I did take patients alone. But... it's different, now. I'm glad for it, though it's scary, too, I suppose. What do I work towards, now?" She has an answer for that, though; it's written in the little smile that crosses her face. "So who's the lucky guy?" is the simple question Z'yi asks, with a crinkle of skin about the corners of his eyes to indicate that Madilla's floating smiles have given him some small thought of what she's so excited about. Madilla goes pink. Red, even. She looks frightfully embarrassed. "It's not--" she begins, then breaks off, to look-- well, pleased. "It's not precisely what I'd hoped. But I think it will... I'm glad." Beat. "W'chek. In a few months. The spring." Okay. Have you ever seen a grown man walk into a wall? No? Well, the expression on said grown man's face after walking into the wall-- is what Z'yi's displaying on his face right now. "Uh." Pause. "What?" Sorry, he just doesn't understand. It doesn't compute. "What about B'tal?" Only someone ungracious would label it as a blurted question. Confusion reigns on Madilla's expression for a moment, and then-- enlightenment, sudden and pure. "Oh!" She goes brighter red, then shakes her head rapidly. "No, no... not like that. No." Firm no, that last time. "No... it's just. A baby. W'chek and I are going to try for a baby." Which... is maybe no less weird. No sprechen de deutsch. Z'yi just stares at Madilla-- at least his jaw isn't open-- for a long moment, then sort of shakes himself out of whatever shock her words put him into. "You're having a baby for W'chek and B'tal?" No less incredulous, no less off the mark. What? It's a gift. Blinking. More blinking. Finally; "Well, I wouldn't /quite/ put it that way. I asked W'chek... though I suppose it does rather solve their problem, too, doesn't it? I hope he or she will be a child for all of us." Z'yi drags his attention back outwards, though the crease of his brow indicates that he hasn't exactly stopped thinking about all this. "N--" He starts, checks himself, starts over. "If you don't mind me asking," he chooses his words carefully, "Why?" Because he's a nosy bastard. Blushes aside, Madilla doesn't seem too reluctant to talk about the whole endeavour. "I want a baby," she explains, which is simple enough. "And since I don't have-- anyone special. And W'chek has always wanted a family. It seemed... /seems/ like an ideal solution, for everyone." "I see." It's very, very, patentedly obvious that Z'yi doesn't, but he doesn't feel as if it's entirely his job to keep asking more questions about it. Eventually, he offers, "I hope you all the best in your endeavors," and while he's not sarcastic, there's a heavy sense of 'you will certainly need all the best wishes you can get' riding shotgun on his words. Not even Madilla can ignore quite that much-- or, at least, she can't today. She watches Z'yi, silent, for several long seconds before she says, "Thank you." And then, quietly, "It may not be... what I always dreamed of. But it's the best option I have. I'm genuinely pleased that he said yes." "Madilla," Okay, so maybe Z'yi can't do it. He even shifts in his chair to face her better. "This is something that will link you to him for the rest of your life, through thick and thin. My mother..." A shadow crosses his face, "My mother used to say that having a child with someone is the closest you can get, even beyond marriage." "I was going to marry him," Madilla reminds Z'yi, sounding-- surprised, despite everything she's obviously been picking up from the bluerider. "I was always going to have children with him." She hesitates, and then adds, "I care for him. I don't... see why he doesn't deserve to have a family, the same as anyone else. Besides, isn't it better someone I know than just-- picking a stranger? Or asking someone to do it as a favour to me?" She sounds utterly calm. "Are we talking about the same W'chek here?" The root of all evil? Z'yi's nemesis? "I'm sorry, Madilla," the bluerider states, then, starting the awkward seat-shuffle of maneuvering to his feet. "I don't mean to pry into your personal business, and I'll leave you to your evening." Madilla bites at her lip, as though she wants to say something more, but is either too controlled, or just can't find the right words for it. Finally, slowly, "I know you don't. Good-- evening, Z'yi." She sounds unhappy, just barely managing to hold back a sigh. There's a pause, there, at the end, before Z'yi's completely straightened up. "I hope he understands how precious a gift you're giving him." Isz offers a last, oblique look, before starting his slow stride outward, careful to keep his back and shoulders straight. "Good night," are his last words before braving the snow. Madilla stares silently after him, a confusedness marking the cant of her head, the set of her features. Finally, slowly, she shakes her head, and turns her attention back out to the falling snow. |
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