View source for Logs:Useful, Helpful And I'm Not Bad At It

{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
| who = Devan, Madilla
| where = Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Madilla is distinctly more stupid than usual for some reason. She and Devan talk. 
| when = Month 7, Turn 19
|day=7
|month=7
|turn=19
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2009.04.18
| quote = 
| weather = 
| categories = General
| mentions = 
| ooc = 
| icons = 
| log = 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 not so long before midnight, and, as a result, the common room has cleared out quite a bit. Among those still hanging about is Madilla, who sits at the table, her head lowered determinedly over whatever it is she's reading, an empty glass of what probably contained milk beside her. The young apprentice turns a page, and then flicks back, mouthing words silently as she reads through them, evidently completely lost in her work.

Devan is what you would call a night time bather. On his way back from the obvious, and on his way to his nice comfortable bed, he's towelling his head because hair, wet. In fact, his shirt sticks to him, too. And maybe it's because she's obviously studying and it's the law of the universe that if you study, you will be interrupted, or maybe it's because Madilla is the only other soul awake right now; whatever it is, it has him stopping near her table and, inquisitive, meandering over.

Madilla is - absorbed. She picks up her pen, not long before Devan gets close, to scribble some notes down the side of the page: if he looks close enough, he'll see 'check with Delifa; may be worth considering for future patients'. For the moment, however, this keeps her occupied enough that even the sound of footsteps does not draw her head away from her books.

Which means Devan can stand sort-of behind her and read over her shoulder. Since he's distracted, the towel lays draped over his shoulders, his hands still clutching either end and his hair sticks up in strange ways all over his head. Squinting, thick eyebrows knit, he reads the note she made and wonders aloud and perhaps accidentally, "Which patients?"

She appears to be reading up on herbal remedies, primarily focusing upon issues of digestion and stomach complaints. It doesn't /seem/ like riveting stuff, but... It's still not until Devan actually speaks that she notices him; and then, it's with a jump, a full start, and even, a little bit of a gasp. Her whole upper body spins about, her messy braid sliding around her shoulder, and she blinks at him, open mouthed. "You shouldn't /do/ that."

Funny, when she startles, /he/ startles. Maybe not to her extreme, but still. And then, because they've just scared each other, he grins down at her and becomes all warm eyes and dimple and scratches his head. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." He /is/. It's so plain. "There's nobody else up, that was dumb o'me."

And his warm eyes and dimples soften her, too, her expression dropping to a crooked, quirked smile, though her eyes duck away from his face, if not outright shy, then not so far off of it. "It's okay," she assures him, as she flicks a glance around, as if only just now realising, for the first time, how late it is, how empty this room has become. "No harm done, right?"

"Pretty lucky of us." He tries to joke with the maybe-not-quite-shy girl, a peace offering, plus it's just a natural route for him to take. The whys for her looking down could easily be awarded to the lateness, so Devan doesn't hide his face from her in the hopes it will make her more comfortable. "How d'you like bein' a healer?" The subject of her study, not hard to figure out if you're basically being given the answer.

"Lucky of us?" asks Madilla, clearly not following, though she's still smiling warmly. She draws herself into a more comfortable position, no longer half twisted around, and hesitates before answering the question. "I like it," she admits. "It's useful, and helpful, and I'm not-- not /bad/ at it. And it's difficult, but not so bad, really, just interesting, because of it."

That's okay, she can not follow all she wants, he's got her. "No harm done." Which might serve for more confusion than explanation, but there ya go. "Useful'n helpful are two good pros. You must have a good brain, bein' able to follow all that." Good brains like Madilla's do healing; Devan's brain does manual labor.

Madilla's 'oh' doesn't seem to indicate that she's particularly any more enlightened, but she nods anyway. "I-- suppose? I like studying. I guess that's how I, um, forgot the time." Her lips pull together, cheeks going slightly pink before she adds, "I'm sure you have a good brain, too."

He's grinning at her again. She forgot the time, she's blushing, and she just said she's sure he has a good brain. It's just all too darling. "Well thank you kindly." Devan doesn't often enunciate every word perfectly, but he did that time; just nevermind the down home twangy speech pattern he's picked out for himself. "I like usin' my hands, you know? I can read a book just fine, but then there's all the remembering..." Must be about studying.

Madilla /is/ darling. She plays with the hem of her skirt with one hand, though it's a long way down, and she has to reach quite a distance to get to it. "Um - you're welcome?" Her nod is hurried, for the rest of what he has to say, though when she speaks, she's clearly still at least a little off-kilter. "I can understand that. I like working with my hands, too - but in the infirmary, you know? Helping. Are you a - handyman, or something?"

Helping. "That kinda thing's gotta be real delicate, right? If you're stitchin' people up-- just knowin' what half the stuff is that keeps us runnin' makes you guys a cut above the rest." Full of compliments, but not a one of them seem even the least bit put on. Devan's grin widens, all white and dimply. "I am indeed," he admits.

With that compliment, Madilla turns outright pink, and begins staring at the floor with great focus. "Um. Yes, I suppose so. That's why we're apprentices for turns. I've already been one for three, and I'll be one for a few turns more." But she's obviously flattered. She manages to look up again, as he agrees with her assessment; she looks pleased. "Oh! That was a guess. But I'm glad I got it right. Do you like it?"

Pink! Adorable. /Turns/? Not so adorable. "/Three/?" And a few turns more? "Yikes." Really. Devan actually seems stunned by that. Sure, he knew they must be in the apprentice rank for some long amount of time, it's a craft afterall, but to hear the actual scope of time must have tweaked something in his brain. Don't worry, he's back up and running again soon. "I like it, sure. Glad t'have somethin' t'do that feels like it's," grin, "useful."

Madilla's nod is a little bit rueful, but mostly, still smiley. "Mm. I'll probably be twenty or more, before I'm a Journeyman. It's - a long time to wait, but I don't mind being an apprentice, either. Since I like what I do." She drops both hands to her lap, considering Devan thoughtfully as she listens. "Useful." She laughs. "Right. I think - I hope - that matters to most of us. Being useful. Productive. I can't imagine not doing something useful, you know?"

"Well sure, but different people have sorta different views on what's useful, I think. Takes different strokes." Philosopher he is not, so Devan doesn't linger too much on the whole thing. Instead he gives her a fond little smile and breathes in. "I should probably get t'bed." Unfortunately. "What about you? You want me to walk you somewhere?"

"Right, but it's probably all useful, in the end. Isn't it? I mean, you're useful, and I'm useful, and Milani's useful, and - so are lots of people. Because we need everyone." Madilla sounds unsure as she says all of this, except that she nods her head a lot while doing so, too. She pauses, as he mentions bed, and then glances around; then, she nods. "I should have been in bed a while ago. I-- all right. Just to the dorms?" She draws herself towards her feet, already gathering up her books.

"I think you've got somethin' there. Doesn't really matter what anyone thinks of what you do, if you're doin' somethin' that's worth it." Worth what? Devan doesn't say. What he does say is, "Just to the dorms," in agreement, and if she lets him he'll be carrying her books for her too. They might even talk a little more on the way, oh and maybe they'll have introduced themselves to each other too, by the time they've reached their destination.






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