Logs:Work Sucks
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| RL Date: 14 September, 2015 |
| Who: Madilla, Silva |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla sends Silva back to work. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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| Cool and damp it may be, but at least it isn't cold; with winter impending, that probably counts as a small mercy. It means, at least, that Madilla is more willing to take a slow and meandering walk across the bowl, rather than rushing from one place to another. Dressed in a light jacket, the healer digs her hands into her pockets and steps carefully around a puddle, her path vaguely aimed towards the lower caverns. A rock right in the middle of the pole is the perfect place to stop and not-work, right? Silva's absconded with a set of brushes and combs and has set herself up in style. Each section of her hair gets her full attention with smooth even brushes over her shoulder. "Five, six, seven..." She's even counting them, the vain little thing. It's unusual enough of a sight that Madilla pauses, still a fair few steps away, to study Silva's efforts. "You must be one of those lucky people for whom the damp isn't a problem for hair," she calls, taking another step or two closer. "Is there something wrong in the caverns?" Because surely there'd be no other reason to be out here, right? "Oh NO, it's a //nightmare//." Silva latches onto the topic of herself without a single moment of hesitation that no one cares as much about her as //she// does. The brushing pauses so she can beam up at the woman. "It's why I have to brush it //so// much. I mean, it was //so// much worse in Tillek, so like, this is nothing but seriously. Upkeep!" A slight tilt of her head sideways, "My aunt," a slight downturn of her lips, "would probably put me to work," very much ick, "if I was in the caverns. It leaves here~" One hand with that brush stiill in it gets waved upwards in a vague Tah-dah! gesture. Madilla's friendly sympathy? Rapidly departing. "I see," she says, in a kind of bewildered way that suggests that no, she really does not. "We all have to work," she points out. "If you pin it up," the way Madilla does, "You'll be able to keep it out of your way, and it's less likely that it will get--" The wave of her hand is evidently intended to finish off that statement for her. Those steps carry her to a few paces from the younger woman, where she pauses. "Oh no!" Silva's face takes on an utterly appaled look, wide eyes, slightly pouty lips. "If I put it up no one would be able to see it. I mean, what's the POINT otherwise?" The pout fades and she points a bright smile towards the woman, she understands the PLIGHT the young woman is going through, right? Increasingly, Madilla just looks lost. "Well," she says. "You could wear it down on special occasions, or in the evening after you've finished work. It must get in the way, otherwise. What kind of work do you do?" Her hands slide out from the pockets of her jacket, held behind her back in a loose knot of fingers. The brush pauses about half way through a stroke, and Silva will give that thought exactly a half second worth of thought. "But what's the fun in that? I mean, really." The brush finishes that stroke and Silva moves on to another hank, giving it her entire attention. Except for the one hand she holds out to the woman, "HARD work. I mean, seriously. I broke a nail the other day." "Well," begins Madilla. "It's not supposed to be fun." Her nose wrinkles, that smile now diminished to the thinnest of lines. "Nails break. I'm sure we could find you some work that was less difficult upon nails... can you sew? Perhaps you could help with the mending? But you do have to work; everyone does. If you don't, Jounine can terminate your residency." Silva drops her brush into her lap, sighing dramatically. Her head dips forward as she pouts. "You sound just like my aunt. I //do// work. I mean, I even totally carried that platter out of the kitchen this morning. It's hardly //my// fault that the cook put it in the wrong place and it wasn't done yet!" She peaks up, trying to see if the woman will respond to this particular sob story, maybe? No. No, she will not. If anything, it hardens Madilla's expression further. "Up," she says, with a certain amount of force to her voice-- the kind built through parenthood, teaching, and being a healer who has to tell people what to do. "You're not supposed to be out here. I can pin your hair for you, or you can do it yourself, and then I'll take you back to the kitchens. Unless you'd prefer I take you to the headwoman's office?" "BUT!" The objection comes strongly to Silva's lips, but it dies firmly under that stern look. Reluctantly and with a whole pile of eye rolling the girl begins to gather herself up, stuffing combs into a small back that is fairly stylish. "No. I don't need help." Her hair gets flicked slightly into just the //perfect// little curl over her shoulder. Madilla's expression doesn't waver, not enough to suggest approval as Silva follows directions, though it does turn somewhat dubious at the flick of that curl. "It's your loss if you end up with food in your hair," she suggests, cheerfully enough. "May I ask? Do you enjoy having clean clothes to wear, fresh food to eat? Clean floors to walk on?" Silva casts a sideways look at Madilla, like she's abruptly doubting the woman's sanity. "Well obviously. I mean, what else is there. Living in filth is gross." She's got a petuant steps to her, and she's lagging just slightly behind Madilla, not at all happy at getting drug back to responsibility. "Well," Madilla continues, without missing a beat (or a step-- hers lead them fairly directly towards the caverns). "Someone has to provide all of those things. That's how it works. Everyone contributes, and then we all get nice things. So." She gestures towards the caverns. "Go. Work. And then you may play with your hair." "Fine." There's a long suffering sigh that comes from Silva's lips after she takes in a deep breath. Stepping past the woman she'll roll her eyes again (once out of sight!) and plod her way towards the caverns. But it doesn't last for long, because slouched shoulders totally don't look good on //anyone//. A few paces later she's straightening up again and putting a particular sway of her hips. |
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