Logs:The Sock Wherry
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 7 February, 2012 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova's over-tired. Madilla tells her a story. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 13, Turn 27 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Via/Mentions |
  |
| It wouldn't have been possible during a Pass, but then, a lot of things wouldn't have been. Vrianth's haunting her dragon infirmary where her rider's cooped up in a hide-curtained and -roofed alcove with the little squalling two-day-old creature that for once, thankfully, is resting. Leova is too, more or less, leaning groggily against the pillows, staring into nothing. It hasn't posed much of a challenge to the healers, who have extended their rounds out the door of their own infirmary, not to mention regular, less schedule visits. And then there's Madilla, who is in at least as often as she can spare a moment, if not more often than that. She's quiet, as she crosses the infirmary, now, tipping her head up towards the green even before she focuses attention in on mother-and-child. Vrianth's head is heavily on her paws, her tail tight about her except for how the very tip of her tail splays in a wider curve. She recognizes Madilla, though, with a soft rumble that's not quite a croon: go on. Do what you need to do. No doubt it's Vrianth's strong hint, but by the time her friend comes into view, Leova's wakeful enough to gesture with her chin at the swaddled bundle crooked in her elbow, and whisper, "Sleeping at last. I thought they were going to kick us out. So loud." It's slowly said, in fits and starts with long pauses in between. Madilla doesn't speak her thank you for Vrianth's forbearance, and instead, gives the green a low nod; for Leova and the baby, however, a genuine smile, as she crosses the rest of the way and comes to a halt beside the pair. "Let's make sure we don't wake her again, in that case," she says, with a rueful, ghost of a smile; she's remembering, perhaps. "How are you feeling, Leova?" "Wiped," the greenrider admits. "And I guess... I still don't have enough milk." Her head ducks, lank strands of hair swinging forward over her eyes. "She's still not happy." The nameless baby stirs, hiccups, then sighs a long burbly breath. Leova looks down at her with that slight, one-sided, short-lived smile. "Did yours? Come in. Quick." Madilla sinks - carefully, quietly - into the chair that has been left, angled in, next to the bed. As her hands press together in her lap, the healer gives Leova an encouraging smile. "Mine came in quickly," she admits, "but it's not unusual for it to take longer. And there's no shame in it. Let me take her, so you can get some sleep?" Real sleep. She shuts her eyes at that answer, just for a moment. And then her eyes stay closed. "I worry that if I give her to someone," she says, "she'll go away. That it will be easier and easier and then she'll be gone." Someone has straightened the rumpled covers about her, possibly Anvori, possibly getting sleep of his own. "Oh, /Leova/," breathes out Madilla, biting her lip. "No. /No/. Everything is easier to deal with when you've had some sleep, I promise it. I won't let her out of my sight, and as soon as you're awake again, I'll bring her back. You're not--" One of her hand reaches out, hovering rather than touching. "That's what we're here for: to help you. All new mothers need help." "I might." Leova's voice is very quiet. Her eyes have opened, half-lidded. "I want to ask to let her sleep here, with me, to take her when she's awake... but then she'll want me, won't she." She sighs. "She might wake up, if she's moved, she..." the greenrider trails off, then blinks again, three-quarters shut. "Would you tell me... would you tell us a story? Like you'd tell your own little ones. Like that." Madilla has gone back to biting on her lip, and it's quite possible there's something she'd like to say, but if so, she's careful not to. Instead, "Whatever you need, Leova. I'll tell you Lily's favourite; it's the one she always, always asks for." A deep breath, and then, in a voice that is very definitely 'storyteller voice', albeit quiet, "Once upon a time, there was a little girl whose socks never seemed to have pairs. She'd wear a new pair, and they'd go to be washed, and when they came back... odd socks. Every time!" And Leova's too out of it to notice, much less quiz her, while Vrianth... Vrianth doesn't speak. The greenrider listens, first her eyes lowering and then her lips, to murmur against the baby's warm and soft and fuzzy head, "Do you hear that? Every time..." "Every time!" agrees Madilla, managing to sound aghast and confused and intrigued, all at once. "And the little girl stamped her little foot and decided that she was tired of her mother making her wear odd socks. /She/ was going to find out what was going on. And so, that night, she forced herself to stay awake until even mama had gone to sleep, and when she had, she snuck out of bed." Toes wiggle beneath covers, grown-up toes this time, in lieu of stamping. This time, it's a yawn Leova threatens to breathe onto her sleeping daughter's head, at least until she muffles it into her pillow and tilts her head back to blink, slowly, at Madilla. Madilla's got her eyes on the pair of them, and a grin for those wiggling toes. Her head tips forward, perhaps intended as silent encouragement, but she doesn't break the patter of her story to comment. "The little girl didn't know /exactly/ where the laundry was, and the tale of her adventures on the way could fill a dozen storybooks, but this is the tale of the socks, and so-- the laundry. It was very dark, and very quiet, and a little scary, and the little girl wondered if maybe she ought to have stayed in bed. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw..." "A dragon," sleepy Leova decides, because that's how Vrianth-stories go. She snuggles deeper into the covers, and the little girl actually stays sleeping too. But her mouth is turned up, waiting to be wrong. Expecting it. Enjoying it. And maybe beginning to dream, just a little, too. "Oh, no, because the little girl wouldn't have been afraid of a dragon. No-- she saw the /sock wherry/." And so the story continues, expanding on the little girl's adventures in defeating the nefarious creature, and making sure that no little girl will ever, /ever/ have to wear odd socks again. The healer stays where she is, after the story ends, hands folded, just watching over the sleeping pair until, eventually, it's time to go. For now. |
Leave A Comment