Logs:Three More Days
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| RL Date: 22 July, 2009 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Leova take a walk on a spring evening, touching on serious subjects, but mostly keeping the conversation light. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 4, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. A layer of gray clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. Sunset beyond the lake: at last the clouds have parted, at last the weather is, if not precisely warm, congenial for a stroll in the fading light that touches the top of the cliff with red. Vrianth has a playful edge to her, splashing about in the lake in a shimmer of spray, and Leova isn't so very much more restrained in the aftermath of dinner. Sometimes she walks backward a few steps ahead of Madilla, sometimes she stays by her side, sometimes she diverts closer to the damp sandy edge. Trousers and boots. Unfair advantage. This lack of restraint must be catching, for though Madilla's steps are more dignified, there's no missing the exultance in her expression and stance; there's just a certain something about early spring, and these ever so slightly lighter evenings. The healer's gaze lingers over the lake, and frolicking Vrianth, and though conversation has been intermittant thus far, she remarks, now, "Someone's enjoying herself. There's-- spring. There's something about it." "There /is/." Leova hesitates on the flexed ball of her foot, something that almost becomes a skip until she strides forward again. "And the weyrlings out of the barracks, even. No doubt they're, ah. Celebrating." Celebrating. Pink hints at Madilla's cheeks, at the implication of this, but what she says is more relaxed: "I know they've been looking forward to it. Having their own space. Does it make things easier, or harder for you?" She angles after the greenrider, adding, "They look good. Flying, I mean." "Mostly easier. They screw up, it's their own fault." The greenrider lifts a shoulder, lets it fall. She slows a little, too, to make it easier for Madilla to catch up, and for a moment threatens to walk right into the flared swing of her skirts. "Faults. Whichever. And you're right. They're getting there. Even Xadovith's looking at least a little more balanced, and of course Isforaith's paw doesn't matter in the air." The dragonhealer notes specifics of a couple more before saying, "Did I ever ask? The story of the ring you wear." With a laugh; "Of course, that would make sense." Catching up, Madilla falls into step alongside Leova, using her hand to restrain her skirts, and nods along to comments on the individual dragons. She even looks genuinely interested, though she has no comment for it. Instead, dropping one hand to the other, to twist the aforementioned ring, she says, amused, "It's not much of a story, really. A grateful patient gave it to me. Well. Not even a patient. Just someone I fetched some medicine for, once." "No?" Leova slides a look Madilla's way all over again. "Quite a lot of gratitude.... Medicine that was appropriate to his condition, I'm certain. Nothing outlandish as with fellis, or what have you." She toes at a pebble along the way, sends it jouncing across the shore, but away from her companion's path instead of into it. Despite the shake of her head, Madilla looks troubled by this suggestion, if not in any serious way. "Not... No. Not like that. But it was strange: she didn't want to come into the infirmary, be examined, anything like that. Just begged me to get the medicine for her. It was strange, and made me very uncomfortable. But her condition was pretty obvious, so I suppose it was all right. Though I wonder what it was all about; her reticence, I mean." "What sort of condition?" Leova has to inquire. "What sort of medicine?" The answer is prompt: it may have been turns ago, but Madilla remembers without having to think about it. "Stomach pains. Ulcers. It was just a herbal concoction... licorice and chamomile, things like that. Nothing I wouldn't have been able to prescribe if she'd come in, even then." "You have a marvelous memory," Leova mentions along the way, before her eyes narrow in that much more thought. She swings her arms, loops her hands together in the small of her back. "Maybe she was in a hurry? Loose bowels," the greenrider dares to tease. "Or you might have seen something else, something she didn't want you to see. Or something about one of the healers, whom she wanted to avoid. Could it be?" Madilla /does/ look pleased for that first comment, her half nod a confirmation: yes, she does. Her skirt gets smoothed down as she answers, "Yes, it could be. There could be any number of reasons why. Perhaps she was just afraid of healers, and I was less threatening. I suppose it doesn't much matter, now." Beat. "I mostly remember that one in particular because of the ring. And because it made me feel awkward." "Do they make you feel as awkward as they used to?" Leova wonders, glance sliding away over the lake. She adds after a moment, without much affect, "Three more days." "Less," admits Madilla, in what might have been the start of a longer explanation. Instead, in the wake of Leova's latter comment, a nod. Solemn. Repeated: "Three more days. I remember." "He's been drinking," Leova goes on to say, as she walks, quite as though Madilla should know of whom she's talking. "But as long as that doesn't last... beyond it, much. It should be all right." There's a silent: right? It takes Madilla a few seconds to place this 'he', her lips drawing in and brow furrowing as she thinks, before, in a flash, comprehension. Then, "Yes. It... anniversaries are hard. The first one especially, I should think. It /will/ be all right." She seems earnest, truthful: she believes her own words, at least. "I hope so. Hard on the girls, too." Leova keeps walking, more slowly now, following the shore's curve. "Hard to believe it's /been/ a Turn... Knowing them, it's difficult to properly grieve. When they have so much more of a right." Madilla follows on, perhaps half a step behind but close enough to keep her gaze on Leova. "Of course it would be," agrees Madilla, with an escaped sigh of regret for those poor little girls. "I don't think they'd begrudge you it. Or anyone. I don't think. How are they doing?" "Between you and me? Acting out. A little." Leova hesitates, scrubs her knuckles up her cheekbone to her temple, fingers scraping through her hair. Which can't do it any good. "Don't reckon I should say more." Instead, "How are you? And W'chek. And work and everything." Solemnly, Madilla nods, just once at first, and then, as Leova continues, several times more: of course she shouldn't. "Of course not. Poor things, though. I'm well. So's W'chek - at least, last time I saw him he was. He's busy... we don't see as much of each other as we used to. Work's busy, all those spring colds, but it's fine. I'm nearly done with my quilt, which is good, I suppose, because I'll have to start properly studying, soon, for exams." Leova nodded here and there, ticking things off until, "Didn't catch those colds? How'd you manage that?" The greenrider teases, or at least it's /mostly/ teasing, "Sheer willpower? And do you like how the quilt's turned out? Hard to believe it's exams again. Already." "Echinacea, fruit juice, healthy food and lots of sleep," is Madilla's secret, said lightly, and not without a grin. "Willpower probably helps, though. I don't have time to be sick. I'm pleased with the quilt." She sounds it, too: warm, proud. "I think W'chek will like it. I hope so. Hard to believe... time always goes so fast. Yes. I don't remember it being so fast when I was little." "Echinacea..." Leova does mangle the pronunciation, but then she goes on to check, "That's the stuff that tastes absolutely gruesome? /Have/ to have willpower, to drink it." Which may be why her tone's more than a little admiring. "And he's bound to appreciate it, something to keep him warm. Quite the colorful weyr... Have you seen it?" The pronunciation makes Madilla grin, as she nods to confirm: "That's it. Though - I mix it into a tea, with other things, and some sweetener, and it's not so bad." As they continue to walk, she shakes her head. "Nooo, no, I haven't. Is it? I'm not sure if he'll like that." There's a mutter under Leova's breath that might amount to, "Have to be a /lot/ more things." Then, "'Least, if I remember right which one. Think it was one of the ones we toured, back when it was our turn. And paint, you can do a lot with that." She's got a sideways smile, just there. Madilla's smile is a knowing one, and not lacking in understanding. But: "You toured them! I've still never seen the inside of one. I suppose I will, now." She has a sage nod, too, for paint. "I'm sure that will do a lot. I should ask W'chek, I suppose." On they walk, into the increasing dark, conversation continuing on equally light notes, until it's time to head their separate ways. |
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