Logs:Too Many, Too Long
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| RL Date: 25 March, 2010 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Leova catch up by the feeding grounds. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 4, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Delifa/Mentions, G'brion/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions |
| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. It's getting late. At least it's lighter longer, now, instead of that early sunset. Vrianth isn't in the pens, but Leova's leaning on them anyway, elbows braced on the top rail in Belior's light. She yawns, once, into her hand. Healers have strange shifts, often, and sometimes that means that daily constitutional strolls need to happen later rather than earlier; that's probably what brings Madilla on a wandering meander all the way past the lake, then onwards around the edge of the pens. Despite visible thoughtfulness, she does eventually catch sight of the greenrider, and this diverts her path directly, taking her closer. "Leova!" It's a familiar voice, familiar enough that Leova immediately looks back over her shoulder. She smiles, a one-sided sort of thing. Says, teasingly, "Journeyman." And: "All right? Heard there was another collapse." "Assistant Weyrlingmaster," counters the Journeyman, mirthful smile in place. She swings around to stand not far from the greenrider, one hand resting atop the fence rail. "All right," she agrees, though, bobbing her head, expression more serious for the mention of collapses. "No major injuries, this time, at least. How're the weyrlings doing? Gabr-- G'brion?" "Surviving," reports Leova. "Mostly. /Glad/ about not the majors. Seen him yet? His green? Apparently he tells her stories. Who knew." Something of that smile remains, briefly reflective before she lets it go again. Playing with the name, "And D'lifa?" 'Mostly' makes Madilla's smile return, amusement playing around the edges of it, and in her eyes as well; it lingers, brightening, at 'D'lifa'. "I'm glad, too. I hate seeing injuries like that. Does he? She must like that. I met her briefly; they came and saw me in the infirmary. Dragon infirmary, anyway. He's been itching, scratching his arms, even. Or he was-- hopefully that's better, now. Delifa's well. /D'lifa/." She tries the name out, holding back laughter again. "Can be easy to confuse ourselves," Leova says, part explanation, part apology. Part unspoken, though her tone admits to some humor there. "Couldn't help it," she adds all offhanded-like. "Can't believe the weather, either. Wasn't it just snowing, the other day? And now look." "Of course," says Madilla, tipping her head up so that her gaze floats above the greenrider, and then back again; she's still smiling. "Strange, isn't it?" The weather. Her head shakes. "Every time I think the snow is gone for good-- but it works out. It's nice when it's this lovely, at least. I /do/ like spring." "Reckon you have a great... /capacity/, maybe, for liking things," Leova remarks. She shifts then, leans her knee on the rail, arches her back some. "Though spring does make it easier." Then, "It can't really have been three Turns." Madilla's outright, audible chuckle - guilty as charged! - fades into silence, and a deep breath, at mention of those turns. "It doesn't seem like it, does it?" she murmurs. "/Three/. Too many. Too /long/." Leova's voice has gotten low. "Sorry about saying something. Mostways, anyhow. With the spring and all. Just..." and she folds herself over her knee again. "Just, can't to just anyone." Her profile in the moonlight hints at hesitation. "Don't be," is Madilla's response, so prompt after Leova finishes speaking that there's barely time for her to finish her own breath. And; "No, it's one of those things... I think you have to speak it when you can. Remember it. Otherwise you just bottle it up inside, and that's not... not healthy." She swallows, then, takes in a breath, otherwise still and utterly focused on the greenrider. "Is that the healer talking?" Leova's laugh is low, quiet. Countering; "Can you separate the two? I can't." And then, attempting a smile, Madilla adds, "But me, as well. Definitely. I believe it." "Don't know." Leova's quieter yet for a moment. Two. "Don't always have to patch people up, you know." She slants a look over: does she? Madilla looks thoughtful, then shrugs, maybe a little bit rueful. "I can't help it. I care... maybe a person could argue too much, but there it is. I do care." "Just so's it doesn't drag you down too." The greenrider shifts again, stretches again, settles again. Mostly. "We were taught, in the wing, not to get out of formation unless we were told. Not even for a rescue. Because we don't know what else is coming. But you... do you think you're like the wingleader?" Madilla's, "No," is quick, and firm, though the moment it's out she pauses, as though to rethink. "I don't think so, anyway. I'd think the wingleader /has/ to be able to make those hard decisions without letting emotion get in the way." Beat. "I'd probably make a very bad wingrider /or/ wingleader." "Just another person having a hard time following directions?" But Leova's teasing, it's right there in her voice, in the way she looks over so that the moonlight can reveal her smile. Madilla's watching close enough to be able to note that smile, and she matches it with one of her own, though before she speaks, she bites in at her lips. "Something like that. If it comes down to not being able to /help/." "What do you do with the people who don't follow directions?" Leova wonders. "Don't stay off their bum foot, or drink the wrong things, or what have you? When they know what to do to get better, but... aren't." Frowning, Madilla says, "You can't force them to do anything, in the end. You can keep repeating things... you can warn them of consequences. But you can't force people. We can't punish people, the way I suppose you could with a wingrider. They end up punishing themselves, I suppose. Often." "Ever say, when they finally come to you, come to admit they were wrong and this time they mean it, they'll behave... ever say, you had your chance, got nothing for you?" Only Leova asks it a little wryly, as though she might think she knows what the healer would say. Despite the wryness, Madilla is-- not quite offended, but still! Half shocked. "No!" Beat. Then, she manages to smile, at least. "Never. If someone wants our help, then they deserve to get it, regardless." Even before Madilla smiles, Leova's laughing: quietly, but laughter nonetheless. "Not even tempted? Even a little? I won't tell." It makes Madilla laugh, too - after a moment, at least. "Sometimes," she admits. "I want to shake them. Or... yell at them! But... not usually tempted, no." So good! Shake, "/Yell/," Leova marvels. "Brave of you, to not usually be. Of course, your patients likely do what you tell them, hm? For their own good." Madilla looks actually a little shyly embarrassed as she admits, "Most of them. I... think I must just make them comfortable." "Wouldn't be surprised. Would not be surprised." Leova hums something, low in her throat, then goes quiet for a little while. And then she pushes herself away from the fence, teetering the way a child might, only on purpose as she steps back. "Hate to run off on you, but it's my night to sleep on the cot, I think," this with a nod toward the barracks. "Or. Well. /Try/ to sleep." There's some pinkness to Madilla's cheeks, though it mostly goes hidden-- thank you, darkness. But; "Oh! Of course-- no, of course. Uh-- good luck with the sleeping. Trying to sleep. And the weyrlings. In general. I should go in, too." "If you want," Leova says lightly, like there could be a reason Madilla might just want to roam around some more at night. Though after all, there's moonlight for one's footing, and it's not like the convicts have acted up much in a while. And no Fall. A girl could do all sorts of things. This one waves, though, and takes herself off to the barracks instead. |
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