Logs:In Case Of - Revision history

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K'del at 07:48, 31 March 2015

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K'del at 05:35, 12 January 2015

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K'del at 05:34, 12 January 2015

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K'del: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Leova, Madilla | where = Sunset Across the Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = Plum cake and rebellion. | when = Day 13, Month 9, Turn 36 of Interval 10 | g..."

2015-01-12T05:32:22Z

Created page with "{{ Log | who = Leova, Madilla | where = Sunset Across the Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = Plum cake and rebellion. | when = Day 13, Month 9, Turn 36 of Interval 10 | g..."

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{{ Log
| who = Leova, Madilla
| where = Sunset Across the Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Plum cake and rebellion.
| when = Day 13, Month 9, Turn 36 of Interval 10
| gamedate = 2015.01.01
| quote ="What can we do."
| weather =
| categories = 
| mentions = Anvori, H'kon, R'hin, Raija, Satiet, Teris, Tevara, U'sot, Varian, Veylin, Via
| ooc = Backdated.
| icons = madilla.jpg, leova roaming.jpg
| log =

It had been sealed, that letter Leova had left with Madilla. Madilla, her friend. Madilla, the Weyrhealer. Madilla, who had been caught up in a swarm of questions upon her return to High Reaches Weyr. It wasn't until later, with summer lengthening and daylight shortening, that the dragonhealer sought out the human healer for aught but smaller things. Work was permissible. Children were, most days. A short meal, or tea, those were welcomed. ''Respites''. So much as a whisper of Vrianth's death... that took the waiting time, the fading of the days, the inquest still ahead.

Sunlight still glints off the lake. The trees' leaves have not yet fallen, and they whisper secrets over the bench they shelter, but only to each other. There is as yet no shortage of wheat. Not known. Not in these parts. Leova bites into the slice of plum cake and, tasty as it is, she still brushes away its few small crumbs that fall.

That letter didn't need an explanation, and it didn't need comment; it has been filed away, now, relegated to a locked drawer where - please, please, ''please'' - it can stay forever. There's been so much else to worry about; so many things to manage. And now… it's only days, now, until the inquest; days that weigh heavily upon the healer, though she's not been forward in talking about them - indeed, rather the opposite. She's quiet, too, now, her feet flat upon the stone ledge beneath them, her posture straight.

The cake, though; that makes her sigh. It's ''good'', even if she doesn't say as much.

Leova's turned her head to look at her friend. "Can get you a pillow," she says, turning up one corner of a smile. "Let you can lean back." She's starting to stand.

"That'll just make me feel old," says Madilla, who nonetheless rolls her shoulders back, stretching. "No, no, I'm fine. Sit. ''Sit''." It's not an order… but it could be.

Leova looks at her, that smile deepening. "Don't have to give orders here, you don't." That's for the ''could be''. Her sitting, for she does that, is for the ''it's not''. "Happen to like pillows. Bring a fur out here, sometimes."

Madilla's, "Sorry," is said with a laugh, wry and amused. "One gets used to it. At work, and at home, too, sometimes. As it happens, I like pillows, too. And furs-- good for making the most of the space, right? Even once winter comes." 'Winter' has her idly stretching her toes, as if to make the most of the not-yet-wintry weather.

'At home?' lifts Leova's brows in query until... "Yes, of course. The children." Though her gaze does check with Madilla: ''is'' H'kon housebroken? Not-speaking of menfolk: "Don't much like to think of winter." She picks at what crumbs remain. Piles them up. "Don't much, well. If you don't mind a little work-talk." She's got some.

The children, confirms Madilla's nod, those dark brows raising just briefly in response to that checking gaze: what? Surely not. Although there ''is'' Arekoth… "No," she agrees, not-quite-solemn but still verging towards it. "I don't want to think of winter, either, but-- go on. Work-talk is always fine."

Vrianth, of course, is nowhere in sight. Doesn't mean Leova doesn't look for her anyway, amber gaze tilting momentarily above them towards where the rangy green ''watches''. "Yes. Well." She swallows. "It's the Teris thing," has some apology. "That letter I gave you, back when." The one with her and Anvori's names on it.

Madilla is quieter, in answering this. "I've locked it away," she says. "Forever, I hope. But-- it will be there; I'll have it." But she'll turn her face towards Leova, now, to watch her friend with an unreadable expression. Waiting, really. For… for the conversation that's to come.

"What are you thinking?" Is it a matter of ''thinking''?

"I'm…" but Madilla stops, shakes her head. "It's what I ''feel'' that makes the difference."

"What do you mean?" Leova asks.

Now, Madilla turns her gaze back towards the lake, so far below them, pausing to work through her thoughts - her ''feelings'' - before she comes up with an answer. "Everything's complicated," she says. "I feel so much for all of you; who had to face your own situations. Guilt. Sorrow. Horror."

"Don't." It's immediate. It's followed by Leova pressing her hands over her eyes. "You can, I mean," she says before she lowers them, before she wipes them on her knees. "If they did, maybe they'd understand. But you? You know. Already."

Madilla's expression is an apology, stark upon her pale face-- that summer tan, the one gifted by her months away, is long-since gone. "I do," she agrees. "As much as I can." Not enough; too much.

"I don't want you to hurt again," Leova says intensely. "Don't want to hurt you." But she has to say this.

"No," says Madilla, immediately-- fast, and just as intense. "No, say what you need to. I need you to."

Leova says it. "Anvori. He won't be able to, if Vrianth's lost, if I'm not yet with her. He asked me to write it out. I did." More than sunset dilates her eyes. "If someone brings me to the healers, the way they did her. If someone else takes over," the way they did. "What can I do? Now. To make sure."

For a moment, there's something in Madilla's expression reminiscent of the overwhelmed child she once was; the apprentice struggling to deal with the enormity of a weyrwoman's end, that same apprentice steeling herself to help a friend get rid of a child, despite her own beliefs. But she swallows, straightening her posture all over again, and answers, very quietly: "I'll have it put on your file. Your wishes, recorded. I'm… I want to take it up with the Masterhealer. I want to make sure this never happens again. I promise, I'll do ''everything I can'' to make sure of it."

"Do you think she would listen?" Leova, quiet. "Do you think she would care?"

Honestly? "I don't know. I hope so. I want… to push for education. Exposure. ''Understanding''. I don't know what the inquest will find," and clearly, Madilla's thoughts as to that impending date are conflicted, "But I ''have'' to believe we can do better. I don't want to be a healer, if my craft can condone such cruelty."

"Your craft, ''we'' can't do without you." Leova.

Madilla's gaze drops towards her feet, and she gives a little unhappy nod. "And I don't know what I would do without it. So I have to make my case. I have to… make this work. For you. For ''all'' of you."

"More pressure." Leova. "I'm sorry." Leova, not taking it back. She ''can't''.

"No," says Madilla, quickly, glancing up and across. Her eyes may be glassy, but her gaze is firm. "It's important. It's… it's maybe the ''most'' important thing I can do. Right now."

More important than babies?! "What can we do." It can't be a question. She can't count on an answer.

"Help me to educate." Madilla is surprisingly sure, on this front. "I want to start a formal program; all healer apprentices need to spend time in a Weyr. I'll need dragonriders to… to try and ''explain''." It's clearly not yet a whole idea or proposal; the furrow of her brow suggests she's still working it through in her head.

"Yes. ''Know'' you show them some, here. But." Leova's mouth tightens. "Officially or not. You bring 'em here..."

Madilla's, "Thank you," comes out on an exhale.

Belated: "U'sot, reckon he'll sign on."

"Good." Solidly, this time. "Dragonhealers-- there's a weight to that. People who've flown 'fall, too." Madilla presses her hands flat upon her thighs, presses hard.

"Officially or not," wry. Leova adds, "Can always flame something."

It makes Madilla smile… almost.

"Bring out the scars." That's wry too. Bring out yer dead!

"''Yes''." It's just short of intense.

"If she doesn't answer right," more slowly. "Might need to train people: ''don't'' bring to healers." Leova looks not-quite-apology at Madilla. "Or certain ones."

It's the possibility that Tevara ''won't'' answer right that bothers Madilla, given the timing of her shadowed expression; not the latter comment. "I'll… have a list of healers," she says. "If it comes to that. Or you just… take people between, right then and there. We'll work something out."

"If I'm. If someone is, does." Leova breathes out. "Need to know what line matters to Healer, what won't piss the place off as they take our healers away."

Wryly, "I need to be careful, too… I need to make sure they don't send me away."

"'''Aye.'''"

"But I can manage that. We just… keep it quiet." And then, after a breath: "It doesn't happen often, at least."

"There'll always be somebody as likes to tell." Then, "No."

"I'm not ashamed. I'll stand by it. Whatever we need to do."

"Don't need pitting our Weyr," practically, "our weyrleaders 'gainst the Hall."

Madilla's nod is slow. "Quiet, quiet. Keep… keep anyone too official out of it." Except Madilla; this is ''hers''.

"Aye." Then: "Need people as who ''would'' take a body ''between''." Pause. "Or give over the draught. But that's not ''with'' her."

''With her''. Madilla's breath catches, just for a moment; then, she steels herself, and says, "It's something that should be on the healer file of all dragonriders; what they would prefer, in that case."

"Can talk to them. Ask 'em to come in, one by one. See you," Leova says. "Not a body else."

"Yes." Madilla's answer is prompt.

"Not saying," Leova thinks out, "Can't change their minds, say to stay, if they wanted to." But who'd want to?

"Yes, of course. But it just means there's something there, on their files, to back up… to back up what they're saying."

"What Anvori said. So's he doesn't have to ''remember''. So's it's not on him." Leova says, plain, "''Not'' on him. My choice. Shouldn't have to bring him in."

It's an uncomfortable thought; Madilla's hesitation, after, and the way she stares off into the distance, is likely because of thoughts on her ''own'' situation. But, "Yes." And, "I'd look out for him. If it came to that."

"'Preciate it." More than that.

"And the children." Quiet. Solid.

"Yes. Shells, yes." Not heart''broken'', but cracked. Fast: "You know what H'kon wants."

Quietly, just above a whisper: "H'kon wouldn't be H'kon without Arekoth." There's understanding, there, and acknowledgement. It doesn't mean the thought doesn't break Madilla's heart.

Leova can't speak. She can't. She looks up again, up high. She holds a hand up: wait.

As it happens, Madilla can't bring herself to say anything else, anyway. She waits. Her eyes? They're glassy again.

So Leova says something. Leova says, "R'hin. Going to find R'hin."

"R'hin." That's easier to say; to exhale on. "Yes."

Not this instant. Leova isn't going anywhere. "He'll make things happen. Reckon for me, if he has to. He will."

Madilla's nod shows no doubt. "I believe it," she confirms. "That's good." Her voice is still delicate, fractured glass, but nothing is breaking.

"It won't happen." Not to her. Not volunteering him to off anyone else either, seems like. "But." Leova's gaze strays to the last of the plum cake. ''It's'' not ominous at all, it's sweet and tasty and rich with the summer's ripening, transformed by human hands. It's tasty, but she doesn't have to have it to live. She says with a quiet, final laugh, "Imagine if they opened that letter, it told them they had to be friends."

For a moment - just a moment - Madilla is still and silent, and then? Then she laughs. "Like Satiet's letters," she says.

Satiet. "I can't do that," Leova says, not laughing now. "Can't write letters to the girls, to the boy. If I ''knew''," she'd like to think so. Now? "I can't."

"I know," says Madilla. She's not laughing, either.

"Can we.... Is this enough? For now?"

Can Madilla cope with any more? No doubt that accounts for the quiet relief when she says, "Yes. It's enough. I don't... " Pause. "It's enough. For now."

"For now."

}}

[[Category:The_Death_of_Teris_Logs]]

@@ Line 11: / Line 11: @@
 |gamedate=2015.01.01
 |quote="What can we do."
-|mentions=Anvori, H'kon, R'hin, Raija, Raj, Satiet, Teris, Tevara, U'sot, Varian, Veylin, Via
+|mentions=Anvori, H'kon, R'hin, Raija, Raj, Satiet, Teris, Tevara, U'sot, Varian, Veylin2, Via
 |type=Log
 |ooc=Backdated.
@@ Line 162: / Line 162: @@
 |Categories=The Death of Teris Logs
 }}
 [[Category:The_Death_of_Teris_Logs]]

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 "For now."
 |Categories=The Death of Teris Logs
 }}
-[[Category:The_Death_of_Teris_Logs|{{PAGENAME}}]]

@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 {{Log
-|involves=High Reaches Weyr
+|who=Leova, Madilla
-|type=Log
+|what=Plum cake and rebellion.
-| who = Leova, Madilla
+|where=Sunset Across the Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
-| where = Sunset Across the Lake Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
+|involves=Healer Hall, High Reaches Weyr
-| what = Plum cake and rebellion.
-| when = Day 13, Month 9, Turn 36 of Interval 10
 |day=13
 |month=9
@@ Line 11: / Line 9: @@
 |IP=Interval
 |IP2=10
-| gamedate = 2015.01.01
+|gamedate=2015.01.01
-| quote ="What can we do."
+|quote="What can we do."
-| type = Log
+|mentions=Anvori, H'kon, R'hin, Raija, Raj, Satiet, Teris, Tevara, U'sot, Varian, Veylin, Via
-| weather =
+|type=Log
-| categories = <!-- You can ignore this and select from the options under the edit box. The 'RP Logs' category is added automatically. -->
+|ooc=Backdated.
-| mentions = Anvori, H'kon, R'hin, Raija, Raj, Satiet, Teris, Tevara, U'sot, Varian, Veylin, Via
+|icons=madilla.jpg, leova roaming.jpg
-| ooc = Backdated.
+|log=It had been sealed, that letter Leova had left with Madilla. Madilla, her friend. Madilla, the Weyrhealer. Madilla, who had been caught up in a swarm of questions upon her return to High Reaches Weyr. It wasn't until later, with summer lengthening and daylight shortening, that the dragonhealer sought out the human healer for aught but smaller things. Work was permissible. Children were, most days. A short meal, or tea, those were welcomed. ''Respites''. So much as a whisper of Vrianth's death... that took the waiting time, the fading of the days, the inquest still ahead.
 | icons = madilla.jpg, leova roaming.jpg
 | log =
-−
 It had been sealed, that letter Leova had left with Madilla. Madilla, her friend. Madilla, the Weyrhealer. Madilla, who had been caught up in a swarm of questions upon her return to High Reaches Weyr. It wasn't until later, with summer lengthening and daylight shortening, that the dragonhealer sought out the human healer for aught but smaller things. Work was permissible. Children were, most days. A short meal, or tea, those were welcomed. ''Respites''. So much as a whisper of Vrianth's death... that took the waiting time, the fading of the days, the inquest still ahead.
 Sunlight still glints off the lake. The trees' leaves have not yet fallen, and they whisper secrets over the bench they shelter, but only to each other. There is as yet no shortage of wheat. Not known. Not in these parts. Leova bites into the slice of plum cake and, tasty as it is, she still brushes away its few small crumbs that fall.
@@ Line 166: / Line 160: @@
 "For now."
+|Categories=The Death of Teris Logs
 }}
 [[Category:The_Death_of_Teris_Logs|{{PAGENAME}}]]

@@ Line 69: / Line 69: @@
 "No," says Madilla, quickly, glancing up and across. Her eyes may be glassy, but her gaze is firm. "It's important. It's… it's maybe the ''most'' important thing I can do. Right now."
-More important than babies?!  "What can we do." It can't be a question. She can't count on an answer.
+<s>More important than babies?!</s>  "What can we do." It can't be a question. She can't count on an answer.
 "Help me to educate." Madilla is surprisingly sure, on this front. "I want to start a formal program; all healer apprentices need to spend time in a Weyr. I'll need dragonriders to… to try and ''explain''." It's clearly not yet a whole idea or proposal; the furrow of her brow suggests she's still working it through in her head.
@@ Line 85: / Line 85: @@
 It makes Madilla smile… almost.
-"Bring out the scars." That's wry too. Bring out yer dead!
+"Bring out the scars." That's wry too. <s>Bring out yer dead!</s>
 "''Yes''." It's just short of intense.