Logs:W'chek? A Child?
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| RL Date: 5 February, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, Teris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla totally ruins a perfectly friendly conversation by talking about W'chek becoming a father. It's a Thing, isn't it? |
| When: Day 15, Month 12, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ezalea/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| 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. It's a little while yet until dinner now and, as usual, Teris is doing work. At least, she has some hides and a folder in her lap in the chair she's curled up in but she's mostly staring into the fire of the hearth, tapping her stylus against the topmost hide absently. Totally focused. Just not on what she probably should be at the moment. Her usually pinned-up hair hanging loose and damp down her back, Madilla enters the Common Room from her private quarters, carrying with her her usual cloth bag of quilting supplies. The Journeyman considers the rooms, with their pre-dinner busyness, then weaves her way very carefully between a few others to head for the hearth. It's coincidence that puts her down in a chair just across from Teris'; she hesitates, as, head lifting, she notes the other woman, and then, quietly, "Good evening, Teris. You look... intent." "Oh," Teris says when she hears her name, turning her head toward the source. She considers the other for a moment then offers a small smile. "Evening." A glance is cast back down to her work and Teris shifts in her seat a little to better accommodate the hides and what she was presumably doing with them. "I was just thinking. How are you, Madilla?" "I didn't mean to interrupt," says Madilla, hastily, her smile genuine, but distinctly apologetic. Her bag set onto her lap, she reaches in to withdraw the piece of patchwork she's currently at work on; as she threads her needle she adds, "I'm well, thank you Teris. I think the first wave of winter colds is finally clearing up-- it was quieter than it has been in the infirmary, today." She pauses a moment, then adds, "And you, Teris? Aside from thoughtful." "You're fine," Teris says in a voice that's genuinely reassuring. "Not interrupting anything, really." Her attention catches on watching Madilla thread the needle and she makes a little face at the mention of sick people. "Hopefully I'll be able to avoid ending up in there at all. I think I'm all right, though. Busy but settling into a... rhythm, I suppose." Madilla does seem reassured by it, confirming this with a firm bob of her head, and another of those quiet little smiles. Her needle threaded, she spreads out the piece of patch she's working on, smoothing the edges before her needle plunges into it. "I hope you do, too," she says. "There are very few occasions when I am genuinely glad to see someone in the infirmary. A rhythm. That's good-- I'm glad. I imagine you've probably more to do, now that the Junior Weyrwoman is gone." The smile she gives is a little more subdued to the talk about the infirmary. It's maybe not a favorite place of hers. Teris nods her head to the rest, a quick gesture, and notes, "A little bit, yes. Nothing overwhelming. Just... yeah, more." She considers the hide on the top for a few moments before saying, "And it doesn't look as though she'll be replaced anytime soon. You'd think they couldn't just up and leave like that." "More," repeats Madilla, easily letting go the subject of the Infirmary; if her wry smile is anything to go by, she's well aware of what most people think of the Infirmary. "Yes-- of course, it would be." Her lips draw in to a frown as she adds, her needle pausing for a moment, "You wouldn't, would you. I suppose they must have their reasons... but surely Igen could have sent someone else in return, if she /did/ have to leave." It seems troubling to her; she adds, "She seemed... quite sensible, in general. Ezalea, I mean." "Everyone has reasons to do things. But dragonriders are always going on about duty and whatever." Maybe not but that's what Teris is going to go with right now. "Then when it comes down to them actually /doing/ their duty, they take off like some sharding wherry." The blonde gives her head a small shake. "I suppose she did. Didn't speak to her much more than was necessary." Madilla is likely to be more forgiving, in general, than Teris, but she stays silent on this one. It's visible in her expression, though, albeit briefly. "I liked her," is what she does say, finally, but with a light little shrug. "I imagine-- well, perhaps there's just more to it than we know, which would explain it more." Beat. "Regardless. Perhaps Iovniath will clutch a gold, and then, in a turn or so, that will solve that problem." "I didn't dislike her," Teris says a little absently. It's almost a compliment, really, coming from her. "Definitely notice that she's gone." She shuffles through a couple of the hides before pulling one to the top, marking something off, then putting them all into the folder and tucking them off to the side. "Perhaps. Hopefully someone I can stand being around." Teris offers a small smile for that bit of humor. The smile, and the words it accompanies, earns a smile from Madilla, too, eyes expressing more of her amusement. "Hopefully someone that the Weyrwoman can stand to have around, too." There's-- at least part of a note of seriousness to that comment, though her smile doesn't shift, and she seems otherwise all very relaxed, needle darting in and out of her work at an even tempo. Teris watches the needle moving through fabric and there's a laugh in return to what the healer says. "That might be asking a little much. But stranger things have happened. It would probably end up being someone that doesn't even know how to write or add or something, though." Teris, the optimist. "What are you making?" Her gaze lifts briefly to the other woman's face, curious. "That's... fixable, at least, though," points out Madilla. "I learned. I could barely read or write when I arrived at the Healer Hall. Though granted, I suppose that wouldn't be entirely optimal." The Healer lifts her gaze so that she can meet Teris', and again, she smiles. "A quilt-- for myself, this time. Now that I have a room of my own, it seems... very empty and bland. I want to try and liven it up a little." "I wouldn't have to do the fixing, at least." Teris might be looking a little less than thrilled about her worse case scenario but it's not something she's going to bother lingering on. "A /quilt/. That sounds lovely. I don't really sew but I appreciate that other people can and do. Have you gone hunting through stores for anything else to help? Maybe one of those shade plants would be nice, too. I tried one of them but... well, remembering to water things is apparently not one of my better skills." Madilla is visibly pleased by the reaction to her quilt making, positively beaming, even. "I hope so," she says, glancing down at her work: the patch is made up of pieces of deep red, a rich blue, and a pale cream. "it's strange, to be doing it for myself, for once. But I /do/ enjoy it." Her head shakes as she adds, "I hadn't really thought to, to be honest. I still feel... reluctant to take too much, I suppose? To be honest, i find it quite lonely, staying in my room all alone. Nineteen turns of sharing, I suppose." "You make it look easy," Teris muses, watching the work of needle and fabric again. "You shouldn't be. Especially if its just been sitting around for awhile. I don't have as good of an idea what those thing are anymore but it did happen." Then she's nodding, thoughtful, "I don't think I've ever not shared. But I like it that way. So long as they don't go through my stuff." Her tone suggests that they've been trained not to do just that by now. "I practice a lot," Madilla tells Teris, though definitely still pleased by the compliment. "I make plenty of mistakes, though. Crooked stitches and so on. And I just can't cut straight... when I'm cutting out the patches? I have to have a guide, else they end up all crooked and wobbly." She bobs her head, slowly, thoughtfully, as she continues to work, lifting her head every so often to glance at Teris. "I suppose. It's still strange, after a childhood of going without." Beat. "I can't imagine anyone daring to go through your things, no." "How long have you been doing that sort of thing? Is that your only hobby?" Teris asks almost in stream of consciousness fashion as she shifts in her seat to draw her legs up and do the side carefully. A grin flickers into existence for the last and she gives a little shrug. "Some people are smarter than others, obviously. You could have stayed in the dorms, couldn't you have?" Frowning, Madilla considers for a moment. "A few turns, I suppose? No more than two, I suppose. Although I learned how to sew as a child, of course. I-- suppose it is my only hobby. I read, but mostly work-related. Not having to study for exams gives me rather more time, now, of course, but..." She works. That goes unsaid, but it's probably not hard to work out. "Also true." About some being smarter than others, presumably. "I could have, it just... never occurred to me. I think it's just something to get used to... I can't imagine a rider wanting to stay in the barracks when they could have a weyr to themselves." "I learned as a child," Teris repeats that with a small nod of her head. "But I think I've forgotten everything worthwhile about it. Don't really have time for hobbies." More like she refuses to make time but that's apparently not the important part. "Is that the sort of color scheme you're using all over?" she asks with a gesture toward what Madilla is working on. "Maybe I'll take a look through stores and see if I can't find you a room-warming present if I get a chance." "That's a pity," says Madilla, with genuine feeling. "I think it's-- good, to have hobbies. Something to do so we can step away from what we are the rest of the time, I suppose?" Her voice quavers at the end, as though she's not /entirely/ sure of this, but is trying it on for size, all the same. "Yes: in different patterns, though, so that the colours rotate a bit." Looking pleased, she adds, "Would you? That would be-- thank you, Teris. Though if you don't get the chance..." Really, not a bother. "Be who you really are?" Teris suggests with a sarcastic sort of grin and a little roll of her eyes. "I can't think what I'd want to do in my free time if I had enough free time to do anything with. I have a journal, I suppose. That's kind of like a hobby in a way, isn't it? Don't write in it much anymore, though." She cuts herself off and waves a dismissive hand. "I'll make time. You're my friend, right? It won't be a problem." She smiles. "That," agrees Madilla, rather more serious than Teris, though not without a little quirk of a smile. "A journal is a hobby, I think. I used to write a lot of letters-- that was also a hobby." Clearly genuinely pleased, she bobs her head, matching Teris' smile as she adds, "Thank you, then. Perhaps one day I'll have the opportunity to do the same for you... I would have thought the Weyrwoman's Assistant /could/ have a room to her self, if she wanted." "Maybe I'll try to write in that more, then, so I can say I have a hobby," Teris says a little more thoughtfully. Her gaze shifts toward the hearth again and she watches the fire there as she continues with a small smile, "I might be able to if I wanted." She glances back at Madilla, "I have considered it. But I don't think I'd like my own room very much." Madilla, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially, says, "I think as long as you /have/ it, you can say you have a hobby. Whether you write it often or not." She's smiling, amused, and probably pleased, too. The patch in her lap gets shifted, examined critically, and then the thread tied off. "Too quiet?" she asks, then. There's a small laugh for that, sincerely amused. Teris watches the sewing stuff again for a moment before the patch is set down and then she gives her head a small shake. "Not exactly. I mean, in a way, maybe. But I just feel... better with other people around. Safer." The last word makes her frown for a moment and she looks toward the fire again. "Maybe I'll look into it, though." "Safer," repeats Madilla, not as a question, just-- a quiet comment. She merely nods, though, in the wake of that, pulling gently at opposite sides of her patch as if to make sure the stitches will hold - they do - then returning it to her bag so that she can reach for the next, which is pinned and ready for sewing. "If you want to, I'm sure the Headwoman or her assistants would be happy to help you out. But if you're /happy/ where you are... it doesn't really matter." Teris gives a snort at the mention of the headwoman and her staff but there's no comment for her reaction, just moving along into, "I know it doesn't really matter. But sometimes it seems like it would... look better, maybe." She shakes her head like she's putting off having to try explaining that before it becomes an issue, though. "I do wish I could have my own bath," her tone is a touch wistful. There's the slightest raising of the eyebrows as Teris snorts, but Madilla is far too polite to actually ask about such things, so she tackles more concrete subjects instead: "Perhaps it would. More professional. You have a serious job, with some kind of status." /She/ seems to think so, anyway. "Some of the weyrs do, don't they? I think I'd like that, too... it would feel frightfully decadent, I suppose. But it /would/ be lovely." That makes Teris smile quite happily. Someone saying that her job has some kind of status is always a reason to smile. "Maybe once things settle down a bit more I'll talk to... someone about it." Then she nods, "B'tal used to have a weyr with a bath in it. Not entirely sure how he managed that or why he moved out of it just to be with that bronzerider. If I could get up to it and back down reliably, I might have moved in myself. It was nice, considering." "I'm sure they'd be willing to find one for you. I think there are some spares down the end of the corridor where mine is," says Madilla, firmly, and with warmth. "That's right-- I think I remember B'tal saying as much. Perhaps." She doesn't seem certain, and shrugs off the thought to add, "Bath or no, if it was too small for the two of them... the weyr itself, I mean. But what do you mean, 'considering'?" "Well, it was small," Teris offers by way of explanation. "Low ceiling and hardly anywhere to put anything. And, well, nice for a new greenrider, hmm? It's not exactly like they have any status worth mentioning." The last comment is sort of an afterthought. "Anyway, the one they have now is decent enough. Have you seen it? No bath but there's a hearth at least." Madilla's mouth draws in, as though she's biting on a sour lemon, but she forces it back to something less concerned as she says, "Status enough, surely. It's not as though there are so many riders now-- it being Interval and all. The bath would have made up for a lot, though, I'm sure." Her head shakes as she continues, "No, I haven't. I-- didn't see very much of them for a while. I still don't see /that/ much, but it's... different again." Teris makes a sound that's more or less agreeable along the lines of the riders thing but she doesn't comment further on that in particular. "I haven't seen it since before they moved in. B'tal took me up when they were deciding. I don't see them that much either, though," she offers. "Different again? What do you mean?" She unfolds her legs and shifts toward the edge of her seat, resting against one side of the chair with her chin in her palm as she listens. "They seem--" but Madilla doesn't conclude that statement, shrugging easily and apologetically. Smoothing her work with one hand, she pauses before answering the question, cheeks turning pink in the space before her words. "W'chek has agreed to father a child with me. In the spring, or thereabouts. It-- B'tal will be a second father, of a sort, I suppose. I hope." That earns a span of silence from the blonde while Teris considers this and what she's going to say without just blurting out something she might regret later. In the end all she really comes up with is, "Why?" A moment before she adds, "Why /him?/ I mean, I'd bet Bety's excited about it. He's weird about kids. But W'chek? A child?" She gives her head a shake, not understanding any of it but trying not to be rude. Madilla is more than a little stiff in the silence, and the words that follow; nor does she much thaw when she opens her mouth to respond. "W'chek wants a family, too," she tells Teris, quietly. "He always has. It's what we planned... that was always the reason." For them being together, presumably. "Of course, were I to find someone I wanted to be with, before then, that would change things... but there's little enough chance of that, so there it is. I asked, he said yes. I'm glad. I think they'll both be good fathers." Teris seems somewhat doubtful about the truth of the last statement but she offers an attempt at saying something nice rather than nothing at all, "I think you'll be a good mother in any case, Madilla." Her smile following is a little tight and she reaches for the folder she'd tucked in beside her. "Anyway, I suppose maybe I ought to go," to get out of this conversation if nothing else, perhaps. "I hope so," says Madilla, perhaps so enraptured by that idea - babies! - that she doesn't really take in the doubtfulness. Or perhaps she's ignoring it in good lalala fashion. Not that it stops her from hesitantly as the other woman excuses herself; it makes no difference in the end, because she nods, once, smiles, and says, "It was lovely to see you again, Teris. Have a pleasant evening." Rising to her feet and smoothing out her clothes very briefly, Teris offers a nod in turn and says a touch more tersely than she might have meant, "You, too." Then she's walking off purposefully, folder tucked in the crook of one arm. |
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