Logs:Three Chins
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| RL Date: 7 August, 2010 |
| Who: Agnethe, Madilla, Lilabet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Lilabet meet Agnethe. |
| Where: Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 6, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender. Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts. Summer has finally arrived at High Reaches, and it seems as though most of the weyr's population is making the most of it: it's early evening, and the common room is not far off empty. One of those occupants is Madilla, nestled in one of the corner chairs, a little out of the way, with a blanket over her shoulder that mostly obscures the fact that she's currently feeding a very young baby. The healer's eyes are closed, and her head is tipped back just slightly, as though she's not far off napping - but even so, there's a smile on her face. Another of those still keeping indoors is Agnethe. She's the type to keep to herself - when the weyrfolk are indoors she'll keep to the out, and now that they're out she's content to stay in. She comes out of the dormitories, a sketchbook and implements of drawing tucked against her chest with one arm, and makes her way across the common room. Her path takes her crossing in front of Madilla, though at first she doesn't take much notice of the other woman, not until she's already found a seat at a table and spread her supplies out. It's then that mother and child catch her eye, and though she doesn't intend any rudeness, she can't help but watch the sweet scene for a moment, a distant smile finding her lips. It's her daughter's hiccup, and not Agnethe, that draws Madilla's eyes open again. The healer starts, as though she was, indeed, asleep, and in that moment, she seems to notice the other woman. Nonetheless, it's not until she's adjusted the baby, and then the blanket, that she glances back at Agnethe for more than a moment. Now, quiet but apparently unconcerned, she offers a cheerful enough, "Good evening." And it's when the healer starts awake that Agnethe tears her eyes away, briskly opening her book and smoothing the nonexistent creases out of her paper with a swift motion of her hand. A pencil is taken in hand - but still, occasionally, her eyes drift back to the pair - most specifically the infant, though only for flashes at a time before she turns back to whatever it is she's starting to etch out, in sure quick strokes. Then that greeting comes, and her hand pauses. Aggy looks up, a touch of surprise on her face. "Good evening," she returns. Then, with slight awkwardness, she gestures to the baby with her pencil. "Cute." Madilla's smile is a genuinely friendly one, one that's entirely in character for the healer. "Isn't she just," she agrees, her tone made up of a combination of amusement, adoration and something less distinct - perhaps the audible equivalent of a roll of the eyes at her own feelings on the subject. "I /know/ she is, but it's always nice when people agree. What are you working on?" If the smile, before (and still present, at that) was genuine, so too is this question; she tips her head to the side as she inclines her head in the book's direction. Agnethe's smile is more reserved, a little uncertain about this unexpected interaction, but nonetheless pleased. "S'pose one would wonder. How much is just parental bias?" she muses, shifting her chair enough to be facing a bit more towards the healer. Being sociable and all. "But I'll confirm it. Cute." The question about what she's working on gets her eyes dropped back to the pages, and a deft hand movement lays a few more dark lines down, and she purses her lips. "Sketching. Got a couple of commissions to work on. Trying to work up the will to do 'em." A slight wrinkle of her nose and she'll elaborate wryly. "Some people are hard to draw portraits of without offending 'em." "I'm pretty sure she can't /actually/ be the most beautiful baby on Pern," admits Madilla, with obvious amusement, as she adjusts the baby again. "Because I think that would be terribly unfair for all the other parents and their babies, don't you think? But if a complete stranger can think she's cute, then I can't be /entirely/ wrong." The healer seems interested by the work Agnethe is doing, and her lips twitch merrily, as though she's holding back laughter. "The balance between what they really look like, and what they want to look like? Mm. Difficult. It must be difficult drawing people in general, though. Capturing-- /them/, I suppose." "Glad to be reassuring," Agnethe says with a flash of a grin. Then, as talk turns to her work (or procrastination thereof), she nods slowly, an exaggerated motion to express the extent of what Madilla has grasped - the great gaping chasm between the reality and the fantasy. "No diplomatic way to draw three chins," she says in addition, with a low sigh to follow. Oh woe. "As if I don't get enough dirty looks as is." A pause and a long look later, and she's leaning across the gap between them to offer a rough hand for the shaking. "'M Agnethe. You're a healer, right?" She's been around long enough to attach certain things to the faces around her, even if she's not been properly met. Madilla has to adjust the baby /again/ in order to get a hand free to reach out to shake Agnethe's, but she does so without apparent thought; her own is not quite as rough as the other woman's, but it's definitely seen hard work. "A healer, yes. Madilla - and this is LIlabet. Lily. It's nice to meet you, Agnethe." As she withdraws her hand again, the baby lets out a little squawk, and the healer busies herself with - discreetly - pulling her away and straightening her clothes, then nestling the baby back into her body. Sympathetically, she says, "I don't think it's fair, to hold it against you. I understand that it happens, but-- it's not your fault. None of it." It may be that she's making an oblique reference to Agnethe's past - or perhaps not. "Do you get many commissions?" Agnethe gives a firm squeeze to the healer's fingers before leaning back into her chair, tucking a leg up underneath her as she resettles, repeating the names under her breath as though committing them to memory. "Madilla, Lilabet... 'spretty," she adds. "Don't think my da gave much thought to musicality when he picked my name." That noise, the unique catlike nosie that all newborns seem to make, earns another flicker of a smile and she diverts her eyes back to her page for the few moments it takes to get everything put in its proper place. Then those words, those kind words, a soft, wordless sound. An mm. "It's a comforting thought." Though there's something in those words that implies she doesn't wholly believe it, it's still said with appreciation. "I get a few. Do more work for scientific types. Technical art. Diagramming leaves. Cataloguing flowers. Birds." A hesitation and she adds, "Can do a fair job of anatomy too, if it could ever be useful to the healers." With a wry smile, Madilla admits, "I've no idea where my parents got my name from, whether they thought it through. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered, had I never left there, but at the Hall... there's a particular cruelty, in retrospect, in calling the overwhelmed, uncomfortable backwater Apprentice 'Mad'. I never got that at home. It's a strange thing, naming another person. Pressure. At least the weyr custom tends to give you a limited range of possibilities." She pauses, then amends, "Decent possibilities, anyway. Lily was never going to be Betilla." Her expression, clearly designed to be encouraging, turns thoughtful as she adds, at the end of what Agnethe has to say, "They-- we might. Need such a thing. I'm not sure, but I will mention it to Journeyman Delifa. And perhaps-- have you ever drawn a mural? On a wall? We're hoping to add decorations, to the craft complex. If we had an outline, I'm /sure/ some of us could manage to paint it in." Agnethe can't help but laugh at that, a low rolling sound, in reaction to the woman's nickname woes. "Oh that is too bad," she says, with a little shake of her head. "Mm. Lillabet does roll off the tongue more prettily." As the healer's expression turns thoughtful and lays that possibility out, Ag considers and then nods. There's no hesitation, just easy confidence, at least in this. "Same as drawing. Just bigger. I'd be happy to, if your journeyman approves." That said, she pulls her sheet of paper from the book and then closes it, tucks her pencil behind her ear and the book under her arm. "Need to meet someone, but I'm not hard to find. Was nice to meet you." And the sheet of paper? She'll slide it across the table, where it would be visible from where Madilla sits. It isn't detailed, just outlines and impressions, but it's clearly a sketched image of the healer herself with her baby curled against her chest. Just sketching practice, but she'll leave it there, should the woman want it. "It worked out well, I think," is Madilla's opinion of her daughter's name, the comment made in passing as she continues to add, "I'll talk to her - we'll see what we can do. I know we'd all like to try and-- turn the new caverns into our own, as it were. It was a pleasure to meet you, Agnethe." This last is utterly genuine, her head tipping up so that she can, if at all possible, meet the other woman's eyes. It's only as she lets it drop again that she properly sees the piece of paper, and sees the sketch: her eyes widen, and her expression, as the expression goes, positively melts. "/Oh/. How-- thank you." She reaches to take it, to get a closer look, and to lift her gaze back towards the artist. "/Thank you/." Agnethe ducks her head in response to the earnest thanks, just a quick nod. "Thank you." For what, she doesn't elaborate, she just gathers her things and with a flash of a smile she departs. |
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