Logs:Wearing Dinner
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| RL Date: 26 June, 2011 |
| Who: Emmeline, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Emmeline have a brief conversation at the nighthearth. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 1, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
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| Far more comfortable here then in the main living caverns, Emmeline has settled herself into one of the comfortable chairs with book in hand. There's a blanket draped across her lap and a mug of hot liquid set on the table beside her. The quiet apparently soothes her nerves, since she appears quite serene despite what must be a hectic schedule and various things competing for an exiles' attention. She's barely paying any attention to her surroundings though; only just enough to glance up if anyone passes through. She'll notice Madilla, then: covered in cracker crumbs, weary-looking, but content. The healer crosses the room without paying too much mind to anyone already present, serving herself a mug of klah from the pot at the hearth with careful, steady hands. It's the cracker crumbs, honestly. Emmeline glances up briefly at first, before looking back at her book. And then she shakes her head a little and gives the healer a second glance. "I... hello there. Did someone decide to make you wear their dinner?" she wonders, guilelessly. Madilla turns; by now, she has her mug safely between two hands, no doubt providing extra warmth though the nighthearth is not exactly /chilly/. Emmeline's question makes her smile, and it would be difficult not to see the note of fondness contained in that expression. "No," she says, with a low laugh. "My daughter decided to wear /her/ dinner, and then decided to share. I tried to wipe it off, but..." Emmeline cannot help but to smile back, the expression turning to amusement when Madilla relates the reason for her cracker-crumb accessories. "Childen do love to share. Especially when it makes others a mess." she agrees, head tilting some in a questioning sort of stance. "How old is she, if I might ask?" "/Especially/ when I have a night shift and no time to walk all the way back home to change," affirms Madilla - though she apparently can't help but smile about it. Stepping forward, she settles herself into a seat not far from Emmeline, still cradling her mug. "She's nearly three. Three in month three." "Night shift?" Emme wonders, glancing at the woman's shoulders to see if she can play 'guess the knot' properly. But winds up chewing her lower lip and looking confused instead. "Nearly three. They're adorable little monsters at that age. Into so many things, but... way too cute to be mad at. I... not that I have any of my own. We were rescued before I was married off like chattel." Something she's apparently grateful for. "But I taught the island kids, mostly." 'Like chattel' strikes some kind of chord in Madilla, because her expression shifts undeniably to something like understanding, sympathy stretching across her warm, round face. But it's the other question she answers, in a soft voice. "I'm a healer. One of us always has to be on duty at night, in case of emergency, and to look after any patients who need to stay overnight. 'Little monsters' is definitely right. Teaching the children must have been a wonderful job." "A healer?" Perk. "Have you had a chance to speak with Evali about becoming an apprentice?" Emme wonders, always on the lookout for a way to get her friend a spot doing what she's best at. Being a healer, of course. "Yes, I really enjoyed it. It's been a little strange having to let go of that. But I've been kept busy." Pause. "Are you able to tell me how some of the still sick islanders are doing? Or is that just between family members." Madilla's immediate nod at mention of Evali's name is probably a good indication that she knows the girl in question. She follows it up a moment later with, "Yes, Evali and I have spoken." It doesn't confirm or deny any apprenticeship, but her tone seems-- fond? Friendly, at least. "I suppose it must be strange. I suppose a lot of things are strange." Her brow furrows for it. And, after a sip from her mug, "On the whole, they're all doing better. Slow but sure improvement." "Alright." Emme seems more then content with that, lifting her mug up to her lips slowly. "Oh yes. Yes, a lot of things are strange." the girl agrees readily. "It's hard for a lot of us to try and find a place to fit in here. We all had our roles, and our place, on the island. And now..." It's just too different to try to explain in one go. "Slow but sure, ok. We can be pretty tight lipped. Everyone says they're just fine, you know? Even if they aren't." Quietly; "I wonder how some of you will ever adjustment." Madilla lets that hang for a moment, her frown knitting dark eyebrows together. "Some of you will join crafts, or marry into the weyr, or-- any number of things. But what about the rest of you? I'll keep an eye out, on your fellows. I know-- a lot of people try to pretend that they're all right, even when they're not. We do try to keep our eyes out for it." "I'm worried some never will." Emme agrees, twisting in her seat a bit. Perhaps uncomfortably. "Even those of us who have joined crafts. Unless we're really serious about it, it's a huge adjustment." Course, she's not talking about herself there. Nooooo. "I... yes, thank you. I'm sure you do and I wouldn't try to imply otherwise. Honestly. It's just hard to keep track of everyone." Green eyes linger on Emmeline; Madilla sucks in a breath that is obvious for what it is - she's uncomfortable with the idea, too. "I know," she says, in a quiet voice. "It's-- my situation was completely different to yours, but if it helps, I, too, had an enormous adjustment, and it took a long time and some things still feel strange, but... it gets easier. Everything gets easier." Emmeline takes a moment to answer, studying the contents of her cup, and then looking up to meet Madilla's gaze. "It does help, knowing that there are others who have had a big adjustment." she agrees. "It helps me, anyway. Knowing it will get easier with time. You know, I Haven't even had the time or the nerve to see one of those dragons up real close. They seem pretty scary. Have you, you know, spent any time up close with them?" Madilla smiles, genuine and encouraging, as her gaze meets Emmeline's. "Haven't you? They're really not. Scary, I mean. They take some time to get used to, but... most of them are lovely, truly." There's something wistful in her expression as she speaks of them, something she can't entirely cover up. "Flying is one of the most wonderful things." "Nope. Almost all my time has been inside. Except for the trip to Harper Hall. I just kind of squinched my eyes shut and counted till it was over." Emmeline admits, sounding a little bit sheepish. "Haven't quite got used to the flying, obviously. They seem friendly enough I guess, but obviously... it's hard to communicate with them." She takes note of the wistful tone, and smiles a bit encouragingly. "Have you... been on the sands at all? They call it Search, right?" Smiling, Madilla admits, "That takes time to get used to, too. The first few times-- but eventually, it feels normal. More normal. I can't imagine how it must feel when it is /your/ dragon; it must be completely different." Emmeline's encouragement draws a more rueful smile, and the healer shakes her head. "Search, that's right. But no: I have not had that honor. I couldn't, anyway. I have Lilabet, and my work-- I couldn't put all of that aside." "You think so? I guess it would be completely different if it was your own dragon. With that whole link that they have." Emmeline admits, seeing the logic in that even if her tone is still a little dubious. "I, oh... I didn't even think. I'm sorry." There's an awkward pause there, and then.. " Lilabet. That's a lovely name." Madilla takes a careful sip from her mug, admitting, "It's a little hard to grasp: that link. I don't think anyone who isn't a rider can really understand it properly... but I try. If it's like what I imagine, it would be /wonderful/." Her rueful smile shifts as she adds, "No, don't be sorry. I wouldn't trade my daughter for a hundred dragons-- and I'm not even sure I would want to be a /rider/. But to have a dragon..." It's a totally different thing, apparently. "Thank you. We call her Lily, most of the time. It took a lot of work, trying to make a name out of her father's name and mine." Emmeline just shakes her head. "I haven't even tried to imagine." the girl admits, and not at all ashamed of it. "Oh really? Is it common here to name the child with a combination of mother and father's names?" She's curious about that, apparently. Leaving the prospect open that things are done differently on the Island. "I think you have other things to keep your mind busy," smiles Madilla, setting her mostly-empty mug down on a table next to her, so that her hands can drop loosely towards her lap. "For dragonriders it is. And most weyrfolk. Not so much for Holdfolk or craftfolk, though some of them still do. Lily's father is a dragonrider, so it seemed... appropriate, though it's a new concept for me, too. I'm not sure if it makes things easier or harder: you don't have every choice on the world, but at least there are fewer choices to discard. I suppose that means you just name as you please?" "Ahhh, so it's somewhat unique to Riders and weyrfolk. That is interesting." The harper admits, continuing to hold her mug in both hands during the discussion. "I... well, yes. Some people name to honor the parents or ancestors. And others... just don't. So, I would say that counts as naming as we please." It's a thoughtful agreement. "Couldn't you have just named her what you want? I mean..." her voice trails off, hesitant now. "Well, I've heard that riders don't marry. So it isn't as if he could force you to name the baby the way he wanted, right?" Madilla gives a quick, but thoughtful, nod, her mouth drawing together as she muses. "I suppose that makes sense. I think a person ought to be able to decide how they want to do things; personal choice." More amused, though her cheeks are tinged with a faint blush, she adds, "I could have. I wanted to name her as I did, though. I wanted... she's a weyr-child. She belongs here. It seemed right, that she should have the name for it. B'tal would never have forced me to do anything; I don't think he would have minded. It helps, though... children are born in the weyr without the kind of family unit that you and I grew up with. Naming them after their parents is a way to identify where they belong. Though I admit, 'Lilabet' doesn't immediately scream 'B'tal and Madilla'." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm being /so/ nosy aren't I." Emme blushes now, hands reachign up to her cheeks before she shakes her head. "I'm just so curious. I need to learn to stop doing that with people. The other islanders, they're all used to it. But..." Clearing her throat, the girl just nods amiably at the given explanation. "I.. no, it doesn't. But I suppose if you two are happy with it that's all that matters." Madilla's reply is gentle: "Honestly, I don't mind. How are you going to find out, if you don't ask? You're not the only islander who has been full of questions." And the healer is, apparently, endlessly patient with them. "Our... arrangement has always been like that. It doesn't make much sense to most people - but it works for us. At least, in the weyr, that's what /really/ matters. Most people won't judge too much." And, with a note of amusement, "Lilabet was a much nicer option than Betilla or-- Madegal. Or anything like that." Emmeline is relieved when Madilla doesn't seem offended. Her patient manner also earns an appreciate smile from the young harper-in-training. "Thanks. And I guess... well, that's good to know. Some of our group are still intent on holding to the Island's ways. But there are some of us who would prefer not to be bound by traditions we no longer need. At least when it comes to... you know, marriage or whatever." She also cannot help the nose-wrinkle at Betilla. "Mmmm, yeah. Lilabet is much nicer." "It's an admirable thing," murmurs Madilla. She seems about to say something more, but stops herself, adding, "I'm sorry; excuse me. I'm probably due in the Infirmary right about now, and I hate to keep anyone else from their family. It was a pleasure to meet you." She rises, taking her mug with her: perhaps she'll finish the rest of it on the way. |
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