Logs:After B'tal Left, She Cried - Revision history

K'del at 23:35, 9 April 2015

2015-04-09T23:35:18Z

Bot: Text replace - "{{Log" to "{{Log |Involves=High Reaches Weyr"

2015-03-07T23:45:06Z

Text replace - "{{Log" to "{{Log |Involves=High Reaches Weyr"

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2015-02-10T07:30:58Z

Text replace - "{{ Log" to "{{Log |type=Vignette"

Roz at 15:16, 20 January 2015

2015-01-20T15:16:12Z

Bot at 08:05, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T08:05:23Z

Bot at 07:04, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T07:04:23Z

K'del at 08:48, 31 May 2013

2013-05-31T08:48:23Z

K'del at 09:49, 29 May 2013

2013-05-29T09:49:38Z

K'del: After B'tal leaves, Madilla tries to put herself back together.

2013-05-29T09:49:08Z

After B'tal leaves, Madilla tries to put herself back together.

New page

{{ Log
| who = Madilla
| where = Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr
| what = After B'tal leaves, Madilla sorts herself out.
| when = Day 8, Month 6, Turn 22
| gamedate = 2010.04.09
| quote =
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons =
| log = After B'tal left, she cried.

She wasn't entirely sure why: she'd been feeling genuinely excited, for a few moments, after all the awful awkwardness, and then-- just like that, she'd deflated, until all she could do was sob, shoulders shaking, breathless and broken.

It was a long time before she could draw a normal breath again, and longer still before her head felt clear enough to let her work things out. The pillow beneath her had been dislodged during her tears; she could feel something sticky sliding down her thighs. There wasn't much point trying to put the pillow back in place - there wasn't much point staying where she was at all. She got up, draping the slightly sticky quilt around her shoulders, and went to curl up on the couch.

It felt better being there, somehow. She felt better. From this position, she could think about it all more logically: she didn't regret what they'd done. It had been awful, no doubt for both of them, but it was for the best, wasn't it? A baby. That would make it entirely worthwhile. She tried to ignore the question mark at the back of her thoughts: what if it didn't work? Could she bear to do that again? (No. Nonononono.)

She'd done everything she could to prepare herself, though. Surely that had to count for something. She'd researched, she'd made herself foul-tasting brews that would supposedly improve her chances of conception. She'd talked herself through the process, she'd reassured herself, reminded herself of the necessity of it all. And now… now there was nothing left she could do. Nothing except wait. And hope.

Oh, she hoped.

She supposed she ought to go and take a bath, and clean herself up. To her surprise, she hadn't bled - as far as she could see - which she knew was possible, but still, it wasn't something she'd expected. It made for less to clean up, she supposed. Presumably, it meant it had hurt less than it might have. She was grateful for that.

Mostly, she wished she could ask someone these things. Healer training meant nothing when it was you: she found herself without answers. She wished her mother was there. Or Delifa. Someone, anyone, who could wrap an arm around her shoulders and reassure her. She hadn't even told anyone that they were trying this. Not even Delifa, though she suspected the older healer knew something was up. Nor did she feel like she could correct that, now: not while everything was a question mark. Not while she was waiting.

But that left her alone. B'tal had gone back to W'chek, presumably, and that was good, she was glad, because he'd had to do all the work in this and it can't have been easy. But she… she cuddled into the cushions on the couch, and tried to reassure herself. ''You might be pregnant'', she reminded herself. ''There might be a tiny little life settling itself inside of you. You have to be a happy, healthy host for it. Make it feel wanted''.

It was enough. She pulled her skirt back on, and tucked her blouse into it, abandoning the bodice, and her socks. She didn't run into anyone she knew on her way to the baths; she slunk into the corner once inside, avoiding gazes as she soaked herself in the hot water until she pruned. The ache wasn't so bad - and she felt better, being clean. In the morning, she'd have to worry about cleaning off her quilt, but for now-- she curled herself back under it, couch cushion beneath her head, and willed herself to sleep.

She dreamt of babies.

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