Logs:The Proposal
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| RL Date: 29 July, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: W'chek brings Madilla up to see his - their - weyr. A more formal proposal is made. There's impatience. |
| Where: W'chek's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 5, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Delifa/Mentions |
| W'chek and Zhikath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr In recent days, more furniture has finally been acquired to fill in this weyr, even if the four walls are still blindingly bright--red, green, blue, yellow. The childrens' beds, while still present, are now against one wall with a few boxes stacked on top of each. The main living area has now been partitioned up with some screens, plain wooden frames with tan canvas stretched over them. The back area has the broad bed (unmade except when company's expected), a little table beside it, a dresser. The front has a writing table and chair, and a threadbare overstuffed sofa with an afghan tossed over the back that usually covers the worst of the holes in the upholstery. Contents: W'chek Obvious exits: Ledge The weyr's still got those blinding walls for the moment, certainly, but it's been tidied to the best of W'chek's limited abilities. It looks... well, not exactly homey, but at least not completely terrible. W'chek, this early evening, has been very nearly reticent, except for the fact that there's been a grin on his face the whole time. "Do you want to come up?" he asked, then, and then there was a quick little flight on Zhikath--longer than it had to be, with a good-sized sweep around the bowl. Then there they are, the entry held open for her to precede him. "After you." Madilla's excitement at this opportunity is obvious; she beams all her way up, clearly enjoys the flying part, and, once safely upon the ground again - after letting her hand linger on Zhikath as she thanks him profusely - looks around with fascination. Of the ledge, "It's not quite what I expected, though I suppose... it ought to have been. A ledge. What else?" Then, as she steps through into the weyr itself: "Oh. Oh! Goodness me. The walls... I see what... Goodness." Not that that stops her from stepping further in, eyes darting from one thing to the next. After following her in, W'chek lets the covering over the entry fall closed again. He lingers a little behind her, still grinning, as she looks. "It was obviously set up for someone's kids. Almost hated to box some of the toys up." An indication of the boxes over there, the beds they're sitting on. "I suppose it'd be best to send those things back down, since we won't be using them anytime soon, but I kind of hated to do it." And oh, does he sound so very sad at that. "It could use a woman's touch, of course. All of it. I don't know the first thing about decorating." Madilla turns her body about so that she can beam at W'chek, particularly as he mentions the children. What she says, however, is, "I don't know anything about decorating, either, but I'm sure I can do something to help. Something... more subtle." She turns back, directing her steps towards those beds and the boxed up toys, trailing fingers down what she can touch. "One day. We'll bring them back up, one day. Just a few turns." Earnest? Longingly so. "I wonder why it all just got left like this." "Well. It takes practice, I'm sure," says W'chek, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I'm sure you could at least pick a paint color." Little plaintive look. "Right?" He follows behind her, just a small space between them. Enough to be proper, since here they are alone and unsupervised. "Just a few turns," he echoes back. "I... don't know. Didn't think about it. The toys were everywhere. But I kind of had a thought that... well, this was Tiriana's way of rubbing my nose in those... few turns. So maybe they weren't originally jumbled everywhere." Laughing, Madilla's answer is prompt: "Cream. Just slightly more yellow than white. So it'll go with anything, and add more light. I think." She turns around to consider him again, her back to the pile of boxes on the bed, a frown crossing her features at mention of Tiriana. "It wouldn't be surprising, really, would it? She seems the kind to... do such a thing. But once it's painted, it'll be a lovely weyr, I think, truly. Whatever she intended. A lovely weyr. A /home/." Our home, but she doesn't say that. All beaming. "Cream, then. You see, you do know these things. I was just going to do it plain white, but Ebeny didn't seem to think that white was the sort of color you painted places like this." W'chek shakes his head: women! Can't understand them. Then he steps up a little closer. Adds what wasn't said before: "Our home," a little softer. "I'm really glad you like it. I was kind of afraid you wouldn't. Or you'd turn out to be... I don't know, afraid of heights or something silly. But you're not the sort to be silly, are you? Not at all." He puts his hands into his pockets, face thoughtful. Madilla matches that beam, clearly pleased at being considered to have made a good decision. "I think Ebeny's right; white would be just... too plain." His step closer, and what he says after that, turns her cheeks faintly pink, but the smile is unabated. "Our home," she repeats, sounding quite as though this is the most exciting concept she's heard in some time. "No," she agrees, more seriously. "I'm not that sort. And I do like it, I truly do." "I'm glad you do. I know this isn't exactly the thing either of us were really expecting," W'chek muses. But not necessarily unhappily. Maybe a little wistful, hands still in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. "But it's not bad. And we'll make it better. Get nicer furniture, eventually. I thought... you know, one of our clutch got a bath, and I thought that maybe someday, that'd be an interesting project. Cistern, a boiler... it'd be workable." W'chek, plumber. Well, you kind of have to be a jack of all trades when you grow up in the middle of nowhere. "It'll do, won't it, for us? Even if it's not a Hold." Madilla, earnestly, "I truly don't mind." Truly seems to be her word of the day. "Perhaps it isn't what we expected, but that doesn't make it /bad/. And... a bath! Do you think so? I think that's a wonderful idea - for one day." She reaches out, this time, to place a hand on his arm, just gently, as she concludes, "It will, W'chek. It's not the where or what that matters, just that it's ours, I think." "I'm so glad you think so." If truly is her word, glad is W'chek's. The arm her hand is on moves, displaces her hand as he pulls his hand out of his pocket, offers it up to her--there's a little box in it. "See, if we were... in that life, still, this is the place where I'd ask if you'd consent to be my wife." He pulls out the other hand to open it up. Not a ring, but a necklace there. Not new, not fancy, but attractive. "I know... it's a way off. But I wanted it to be more than just an expectation. My stepmother... they're leaving in just a few days, and I got her to give me this. It was my mother's, you see. And I wanted you to have it, as... a promise. Even if not the sort of promise I wish I could make." Madilla does, clearly enough, think so, if her expression is anything to go by. As her hand is displaced, she draws it back, and it hovers, as he brings out that box. Her mouth opens slightly, eyes wide; her attention shifts from W'chek's face down to the box, and then back up again, as she lets free a low breath. "Oh... /W'chek/." She's beaming again. So what's new. "It's beautiful, and I didn't /expect/, but... It's enough. For me. The promise you /can/ make, and which I... You have mine, too." The words come out in scattered phrases, the pink in her cheeks deepening. And this, this is the payoff, the grin from earlier spreading out practically ear to ear. W'chek lifts the necklace from the box with one hand. "May I?" he inquires, nodding towards it and her in the same motion. "I thought... you'd like this. I didn't want to be too frivolous. But something nice. Something meaningful. That seemed like... you." He works at the clasp with both fingers, fumbling a little with it. Not easy, these little trinkets, for masculine hands. "I wish it didn't have to be so much waiting." "Please," says Madilla, which would be a 'yes', presumably. Her hair is pinned up, which at least makes that part easier. "I do like it," she continues, warmly, beaming as much as he is; there's an enormous amount of affection in her expression, the way she looks at him. "And that you'd give me something that belonged to your mother... thank you, W'chek. I wish there didn't have to be so much waiting, either. I will try. To be promoted as soon as I can. I /will/." W'chek crosses behind her, once the clasp is undone, to loop one arm around and then fasten the necklace on, hands lingering at her neck for a moment while he cranes to have a look over her shoulder. "I should write them a letter. Strongly worded. Scold them for failing to recognize your brilliance. You're a prodigy. They should promote you immediately." Beat. "Maybe not immediately. Immediately upon my graduation. I suppose they'd frown on that, right now. Call it a distraction." As the necklace gets fastened about her neck, Madilla lifts one hand to touch it, whilst the other reaches for W'chek's hand, to squeeze it briefly. "Immediately upon your graduation. I'd like that. I wish I was older... I wish it was possible. I hope I wouldn't be too much of a distraction. We're both sensible." Though she sounds quite certain of that, she sighs after saying it, concluding, "I suppose it's only a couple of turns. Two. And a bit." A return of the squeeze and then W'chek comes back around, except for one arm lingering around her shoulders. And in private. Scandalous. It's a good thing that W'chek of the admirable self-control seems inclined to no more than that, right? Of course right. "Just a couple of turns. I don't know how they manage it, convincing all the girls your age to wait so long." Not to mention his waiting, of course. How dare they? "I am trying to be patient. I am. I don't want you to think I'm not. But I wish you weren't--" He doesn't finish the sentence, but of course that much is pretty obvious. Madilla doesn't seem to object to the contact; it doesn't seem to make her uncomfortable, either, not by the smile on her face, and the easiness of her stance. Self-control. Impressive. Very admirable. "People here seem to think that sixteen is too young to be married, but I think you're right. It doesn't seem reasonable." She has a deep breath to take, as he finishes, and that smile has wilted slightly into more thoughtfulness. "Weren't an apprentice. It would be easier, wouldn't it." "Well." W'chek straightens his shoulders a little, starts to pull her very gently over in the direction of the sofa there. Smiling, though. "You're not sixteen, are you? Not even that young. Seventeen, and you'll be eighteen before too long, and that's all the difference in the world, isn't it?" He lets go to sit himself. Okay, his manners are generally impeccable, but hey, they've had long enough to be a little casual, right? "It would be easier. But I'm not asking that. I just wish, that's all." Madilla lets herself be drawn along, and settles herself in beside him on the couch. "It is," she agrees, warmly, looking perhaps a little relieved that he is not, in fact, even remotely suggesting she leave her apprenticeship. "And you'll be twenty soon, won't you? It's this month. I checked. I couldn't get the quilt done in time for you to move in here, but... for your turnday." She lets out a breath, watching him, and only then, finally, adds, "I wish, too. They do sometimes let people walk the tables sooner. So it's not impossible that it'll be less time. I always knew it was going to be hard. Waiting. I didn't realise how hard." "The sixteenth." W'chek looks away, suddenly a little bit shy. "Twenty. It seems... well, hard to believe, actually. A milestone like that. Twenty. Twenty and... here. I thought I'd be home, by twenty." He sits back, stretches his legs out, crosses them at the ankle. "Home. I'm still thinking of that as home. This is, isn't it? Here." He goes quiet for a minute, and finally looks back. "That will be nice. The quilt being done, I mean. Not--it would be nice if you got promoted early, too, but I know that's not up to you." Sheepish smile. The shyness earns an indulgent smile from Madilla, who tells him, "We never made much of turndays, at home, but I think it's a nice practice, to mark them. It is a milestone." More quietly, then, "It is. But it does take time, for something to feel like home. It took me a long time." She meets his gaze warmly, her smile less sheepish and more determined, "I know. At least. Mostly not up to me. I think you're going to like the quilt, though. Everyone says it looks beautiful." "Never a *big* deal for us, but they tried to do... a little something for each of us. More for my half-sibs, I think. My stepmother. But I was young enough when they started that they could hardly leave me out." W'chek smiles, but a little distantly, with the memory. "Something we wouldn't have to share. A sweet or a small toy. You know." Then the smile turns on her properly. "But I've already got the best thing to not have to share. The quilt will just be icing." Madilla, watching and listening, nods along to what W'chek has to say, smiling at the memory - and then, turning brilliantly pink at what he says last. She /beams/. "I'm so glad," she tells him, earnestly. "I'm so lucky to have you, W'chek. I truly am." "Lucky. Yes. We're both lucky." W'chek lets out a little sigh, then, and eyes the exit. "We should be going. Don't want to give the gossips anything to go on, do we? Besides, I'm sure you have things to attend with for the evening, and morning comes very early for us. So." He pulls himself up again, offers his hand to her for assistance with the same. "Shall we?" Madilla's smile doesn't waver as he agrees on the luckiness, nor even as he suggests that it's time to go, though it takes her a moment to nod her agreement. "Of course. I have early shift, too, and there are-- things. To do. I've had to cover a little for Delifa." So she accepts the hand, drawing herself back towards her feet carefully, and using the other hand to resmooth her skirts. "I'm glad you brought me up, though. It was nice to see it. The weyr. And... the necklace. Thank you, W'chek. It's all been lovely." He's just an echo tonight: "Lovely," W'chek agrees. And then it's off back the way they came, for a shorter trip back down and a tender but entirely chaste goodbye. Look, she survived a trip into a young bronzerider's weyr with nary an inappropriate touch or comment! How completely and totally unexpected. |
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