Logs:Why Am I Important?
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| RL Date: 13 November, 2009 |
| Who: B'tal, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and B'tal catch up over lunch. Some things that may have been better said go unsaid; some of the things that do get said result in tears. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 3, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Gabrion/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day. Sometime in between lunch and dinner - let's call it an extremely late lunchtime - finds Madilla in the kitchen, taking her break after the midday infirmary rush. The Apprentice has settled herself into one of the nooks with a bowl of stew and some crusty bread, as well as a single berry tart on a plate off to one side. Predictably, she also has some notes with her, and she reads as she eats, mouthing the words, as she always does, while she memorises them. B'tal is still dressed for duty minus only his flight jacket when he makes his way into the kitchen from the inner caverns. He's not exactly dirty but not pristine either, smudges of dried ichor here and there on his pants but otherwise clean above the belt. That doesn't mean he doesn't look a little green in the face, though. It's only with a heel of bread that he settles down wordlessly across from the healer, glancing at her notes without interrupting. "B'tal!" The healer sounds surprised when, on glancing up from her notes, she ends up faced with the greenrider; she must really have been concentrating. Her fork hesitates over her lunch as she gives him a closer look; frowning, she says, "You look awful. Well." She pauses, corrects herself. "A little green, at least. Are you well? Not sickening for something, are you?" She sets the fork down, reaching across the table with the obvious intention of checking B'tal's temperature with a hand on his forehead, if she can get that far. The greenrider startles just noticeably when he surprises Madilla but an embarrassed grin ends up on his face and B'tal lifts a hand to gently wave off her attempt to feel his forehead. "I'm fine," he assures her, hand lowering again to pick off a piece of his bread. "We were hunting," is his explanation even if he should be perfectly used to this sort of thing by now. "Not sure how you deal with, you know, hurt people and stuff." Trying for humor. Not that dealing with patients and hunting down prey is all that similar. Madilla's hand withdraws, capable of taking a hint, and comes back to rest on the edge of the table, leaving her food alone for the moment. Her nose wrinkles, and her words are full of understanding: "I don't think I could get used to that, either. I know we all eat meat," she indicates her bowl to illustrate, "but I still find the killing of it... it's not very pleasant, is it? I suppose it helps that I'm trying to stop bleeding, not cause it." She breaks off after that, giving B'tal a careful glance. "How... is the wing going?" B'tal nibbles on that piece of bread he picked off, looking at some point on the table rather than the healer until he lifts his gaze. "Gotten used to Jeibeth doing it. But she just eats it. I don't really have to mess with the killing myself. Hard enough dealing with the carcasses afterwards." Maybe not awesome mealtime conversation but so far B'tal doesn't seem to quite realize it. Or maybe he just figures Madilla has a stomach accustomed to such things. The question about his wing is waved off, too, but more figuratively, "Wing's fine. How's your... stuff going?" Madilla gives B'tal a sympathetic nod, her expression rueful. "I understand," she murmurs, as she reaches for her spoon again; it really doesn't seem to bother her too much. "I don't think I'd care much for it, either." Despite the fact that she takes a bite and chews it during this time, her gaze does linger closely on B'tal as he waves off the question about his wing, though she's far too polite to press too much. "I've been accepted into the advance training program for this summer," she admits, pride turning her cheeks pink, and making her beam. "So I suppose you could say my stuff is going pretty well." Since she doesn't press, B'tal is perfectly happy to leave that subject untouched and instead he gets his own smile of pride for Madilla. "Oh, that's great!" He's so happy for her except, "What does that mean, though?" Because he's not so sure of that and he's curious. "Is that something you get to do here or...?" He doesn't finish his thought, picking off another piece of bread to nibble on. Though Madilla looks as pleased and proud as anything as B'tal congratulations her, her beam fades distinctly as he asks his questions. Ultimately, as she reaches for her own bread, breaks off a chunk, and then dips it into the gravy left in her bowl, she shakes her head. "I'll be away for eight weeks. Nine, if you include exams, which happen first." Apprehensively, she adds, "It's an honour to have been chosen, but I'm... nervous, about going away. Even if it's just to the Hall, where I've been before. It's just... different. I'm going to miss everyone." His smile fades, too, and B'tal glances down at his bread for a few thoughtful moments. "No, of course. It's great that you're going. I can't even think why they wouldn't have chosen you, you know. But..." It's a long time. He's not quite so pleased about that. But he glances up and flashes another smile, a little more awkward, "We'll miss you, too." Beat, then more cheerfully, "I can come visit, though, until you come-- You are coming back, right?" That thought hadn't occured to him until just now. "Thank you," she says, genuinely, managing a smile in B'tal's direction though she's obviously still distracted by the enormity of this 'not being at the weyr for that long' concept. "Of course I'm coming back," she says, firmly, her lips drawn together into an expression of pure determination. "It's possible they'll want to post me elsewhere when I'm a Journeyman, but that's still at least a turn and a half away; no, I'll be back at the end of this. You will visit?" Her smile is a little shy. "I'd like that a lot. Would it make me sound terribly shallow if I hoped for a lot of visitors, to show everyone at the Hall how popular I am?" "Good," B'tal says with his own sort of firmness. "I hope they don't want to post you somewhere else. But I guess it might be nice to be other places and meet those people, maybe." He eats another small piece of bread and then he's grinning outright at the healer. "I'll visit as often as I can. Maybe bring Teris with me sometime. And I'll make sure W'chek does, too, if you want. Visit, I mean." And probably anyone else he figures might want to go visit Madilla for any reason. Madilla pushes her bowl away, evidently finished with it, as she returns B'tal's grin. "I hope they don't want to post me anywhere, either. I live in a weyr... I can see other places any time I like; I don't need to live somewhere else to do so. I'll go where they send me, though." Her shoulders shrug: she does her duty. "I'd like that." Though her expression turns thoughtful again, and she adds, slowly, "W'chek's been checking up on me. Asking questions of people in the Infirmary, to see what I'm doing." B'tal is all too familiar with duty these days so he can't really argue with what she says. He finishes off the soft part of his heel of bread and sets the crust down before wiping the crumbs off of the table. The last comment makes him pause for just a moment and he glances back up at her. "He has? Why would he do that?" Either B'tal had no idea or he's good at hiding it. And knowing B'tal, it's probably not the latter. "You two aren't--?" He's not even sure what he's trying to ask there but the start comes out before he can stop. "Aren't what?" Madilla sounds utterly confused, not to mention overwhelmingly awkward, as though she's regretting even mentioning it in the first place. Her hands twist together, fingers knitting. "I don't know why he'd do it. I told Gabrion - he's the one who told me, our latest infirmary aid? Anyway: I told him W'chek was just still protective of me, but... It's not as though we see much of each other. I don't know what he's trying to do." "Nothing," B'tal says quickly before he even repeats it for emphasis, "Nothing. Sorry." He considers before saying, "Yeah, I know Gabrion. He doesn't like Whit very much. But... I mean, being protective isn't really bad, is it? We don't see each other very much really and I know-- well, anyway, I'd feel protective of you, too, if there were some reason to. Maybe he's just making sure there's no reason to." And maybe B'tal only sees the bronzerider through rose-colored glasses. "You want me to say something to him?" If Madilla was less polite... well. If Madilla was less polite, and more inclined to ask uncomfortable questions, a lot of things would be different. But she isn't, so she accepts B'tal's explanation with a bob of her head, and hesitates over her response. "No, don't say anything to him. I'll talk to him myself. It's not that... I mean, it's /sweet/ that he cares, but I'm not sure it's appropriate. I'm not his responsibility, and I'm not sure he needs to know all my business. Not," she admits, with a twist of a smile, "that I have much business to know. Between you and Gabrion and W'chek... I feel a little cushioned." And that might not be a /good/ thing. She breaks away from that train of thought, though, to reach for the little tart sitting beside her. "Would you like half of this?" "Maybe he," B'tal begins uncertainly, trying to decide on just the right words here, "Maybe he's just not sure how to talk to you himself." It's a quietly put suggestion and one that B'tal is willing not to linger on. For being cushioned, the greenrider glances down at the table uncertainly and nods his head, not saying what he might have otherwise said perhaps. Certainly none of his business. "Maybe," he finally says with a glance at the tart. "If you don't want it all. Could go find my own. Not feeling so sick now." Then a beat later, groping for some other conversational fodder, "We're going to move in together. Me and Whit." Madilla breaks the tart in half, silently handing half of it to the greenrider before putting the other half back on her plate. She doesn't say anything, instantly, and with her teeth resting on her lip, she looks undeniably thoughtful. "He used to be able to talk to me," she says. "Not-- the way some people are able to talk. But enough." It makes her look sad, but not so sad that she can't push that away to beam again - even if it's not, perhaps, the same kind of beam she was invoking earlier. "You are! That's wonderful news, B'tal. Congratulations. I'm glad you're happy together." "Thanks," he murmurs as he takes the half of tart then takes a bite from one of the corners. B'tal considers Madilla in her thoughtfulness while he chews. "He's still figuring stuff out. He's not very good at talking about anything important. And you're important." He trails off and her congratulations has a smile pulling at his lips but even his smile isn't as big as when he was congratulating her. "Yeah," he agrees a little shyly. "Thanks." A bob of the healer's head acknowledges the thanks, though she doesn't do more than glance down at her half of the tart, for the moment. "Why am I important?" she wants to know, her voice kept very quiet, though there's a seriousness to it. "There's nothing between us anymore." B'tal doesn't take another bite. He sets his half of tart down on the table and then he looks at it for a few moments. He can't quite bring himself to look all the way up when he does say something. "You were the /life/ that he wanted, Madilla. A wife, babies. Not me or the Weyr. We're just what he ended up with. And," he says quickly, "I'm fine with that. I think he's fine with that now, too. But you're still important. You just are." He's looking a lot less comfortable now, chewing on the inside of his cheek, but even though he sort of shifts like he might be thinking about getting up, he doesn't just yet. But Madilla does get up, rising from her seat with an awkwardness that she can't hide, and an expression she doesn't seem to even bother altering: hurt, pain, unhappiness. "He made his choices. That doesn't mean he gets to... he can't have everything. He did a-- /fucking/ good job of-- no. I'm sorry. I should be back at work. Good bye, B'tal." That certainly wasn't what he intended to happen and B'tal pushes himself to his feet quickly when Madilla rises. He can't quite manage a worthwhile response and just stares at the healer with blank uncertainty and regret. "I'm sorry," he finally murmurs a little anxiously though that won't mean a whole lot of she's already off. It may still mean something, though. Madilla's forward progress pauses for just a moment, and she turns back to look at B'tal. The tears are actually running down her cheeks now. "Tell him I need to talk to him," she says, and then she's gone, abandoning her tart, and her notes, in her haste. B'tal just nods his head, looking down when he notices the tears. He nods again, more emphatically, and he lets her go. But when she does, he gathers stuff off the table to put away. And he'll take those notes so W'chek can give then back to her. Or something. |
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