Difference between revisions of "Logs:Propositions"

It's been snowing slowly but steadily all day, and now, with afternoon heading towards a close, there are heavy drifts everywhere, smoothing over the wilting remains of previous snowfalls. Out by the lake, someone has obviously been making some effort to clear the ground off, because it's rather more level, but efforts have been abandoned for now. Instead, there's a small child making snow angels (or the Pernese equivalent) while her mother watches on, the dark-haired healer keeping a close watch on her red-capped daughter. "You'll have to stand up /very/ carefully," Madilla calls. "Slowly, now."

Devaki, like a lot of the exiles, seems disinclined to linger where there's a lot of crowds -- like the caverns during dinner time. So it's likely deliberate that he's out here, walking out by the lake where it's quieter. In concession to the coldness of the snow, he's actually wearing shoes, but the way he walks -- kind of deliberately picking each step, an odd look in his countenance -- makes it apparent he's uncomfortable. He slows as he catches Madilla's voice, and, gaze drawn towards mother-and-child, pauses and simply watches.

'Slow' is hard for small children - even quiet ones like two-and-a-half turn old Lilabet. Coordination? That's probably even harder. Her little brow furrows in disappointment when, by the time she's on her feet, the outline in the snow has been ruined, but the expression doesn't linger: as she turns, she catches sight of Devaki, and her mouth opens wide. Her silent, pointing hand draws her mother's attention, and Madilla, too, turns to consider the newcomer. "Good evening," she says.

Devaki can't help it. It works on the islander kids, and Lilabet's expression is too tempting to resist. As the girl points at him, he suddenly raises his arms above his head and does his best sea-monster roar, which is nothing quite as impressive as a weyrbred child would've heard from a dragon, but from a perfect stranger might well be intimidating all the same. At least he's mindful enough not to get closer yet -- eventually letting arms drop, though pale blue eyes are twinkling with amusement all the same as his gaze shifts to the mother. "Evening," he adds, tipping his head marginally to consider her in turn, an affected, almost deliberate mimic of her pose.

Lilabet /squeals/, unsurprisingly, and pelts towards her mother so that she can hide behind the dark-haired woman's knees. Arms wrapped around her legs, she peers out every so often, keeping a wary - but interested - eye upon the stranger. Although her daughter's squeal surprises her, Madilla is clearly not concerned, not with the way she smiles, her eyes dancing with mirth. She rests one hand upon her daughter's head as, straightening, Devaki's pose having caused some kind of reaction, she adds, "I'm always surprised at how brave she is. I never was, and it's hard to imagine her father being, either."

As Lilabet ducks behind Madilla, Devaki dances a couple of steps closer, then poses in a picture of not-quite-idleness, casting a sly, sideways glance in the girl's direction, unable to keep the grin from touching his lips. "Children are -- always braver. They haven't learned to be afraid yet," he says, somewhat blandly. Only belatedly does his gaze shift to the healer, his gaze lingering on her knot for a beat, clearly interested. "And they bounce back far faster than us," he adds, as he shifts a couple of steps closer, gaze darting back to the girl hiding behind the journeywoman.

Brow furrowing, Lilabet keeps a close eye on Devaki, as though she doesn't quite trust him not to turn into a monster again - and, indeed, who could blame her for that! "I suppose they haven't," allows Madilla, not privy to her daughter's expression, but watching the islander nonetheless. "We teach them that. I don't think we intend to; we just want to keep them safe. They-- bounce back. Yes." Her smile is more reserved for that, a hint of sadness lingering behind her expression. "If only I could find a way to distill it."

After a few more shuffling steps closer, Devaki ceases his 'stalking', folding arms across his chest and looking extremely casual and non-threatening as possible. He focuses on Madilla, instead, though there's a slight flicker of gaze to indicate he's keeping tabs on Lilabet's interest. "I think it's a reflection of innocence; you can't get that back, once it's gone." The islander sounds almost... wistful. Then, a beat later, a briskness enters his tone: "So, how are we doing?" It's very likely he means 'we' in the sense of his people.

If anything, Lilabet seems disappointed at the lack of stalking, though (just to be sure) she's staying right where she is, one arm slung about her mother's leg. "No, you can't," agrees Madilla, and she, too, sounds wistful for it. "Eventually, we all have to see the world for what it is." The islander may have moved on to brisker questions, but she takes a moment before altering her tone to join him. "The short answer is 'better'," she reports, in a tone that registers both weariness and regret, then, obviously having taken his meaning. "There have been no more cases, and a few more should be ready to leave the infirmary in the next day or so."

Devaki is patient, waiting for the child's natural curiosity to overcome her wariness. And, while he waits, the conversation at hand is suitable distraction enough. "I meant," a flickered smile appears, "How do you think we are adjusting? Those of us that are left." His hands spread wide, then drop to his side. "Now that we're allowed to walk freely." He pauses to glance over his shoulder, as if surprised not to see a guard dogging his footsteps any longer.

"Oh!" Madilla's pink cheeks are not, now, from the cold alone, though embarrassment does not, at least, draw her gaze down to her feet. "Some better than others," she says, then, running the pom-pom of Lilabet's cap through her fingers idly. The child hasn't quite stepped away from her mother, but she's got her chin set firmly, intent on /something/. "I can't imagine how difficult it must be. To that end - I think you're all doing really well."

Devaki's very deliberately not looking at Lilabet, like he's forgotten her entirely. "As well as can be expected," he says, an odd expression on his face, kind of like a grimace. As if setting aside that conversation adroitly as distasteful, he asks, "Have you met my sister, Evali? She and I are both healer trained -- she moreso than me. She seems interested in fully learning the craft, maybe. I hope she does -- she has the patience and interest for it." It's hard to tell whether he's simply praising his sister, or making a comment on his own abilities.

There's an apology in Madilla's expression, one that she wears right until it's her turn to speak again, though there's a flicker of something - recognition? - and a nod at his mention of Evali. Whether or not she has met the other girl, she says, firmly, "If she's interested, I'm sure we would be willing to give her the training she needs. She probably has techniques we don't, developed from necessity; I would be interested to learn them. And you?" Her head tips to the side. "Are you interested in continuing your training?" Lilabet has, evidently, decided that it really is safe, and takes a careful stride away from her mother - and towards Devaki. In her expression? A challenge.

Though Devaki's gaze cuts briefly towards Lilabet, he makes no move just yet. He looks quietly pleased at Madilla's words, nodding slowly. "I'm glad to hear that. Ev needs... she could use some routine in her life right now." He says the words evenly enough, and indeed, it would be difficult to sense any other emotion beneath that pointedly neutral expression. "Me? No, I -- I don't know. My training was more around mindhealing. With my people -- I know them. Know their minds. Out here," his gaze drifts across the bowl, shaking his head. "You, how you think, it's all -- different."

All quiet. All safe. Lilabet takes a few more steps, glancing back at her mother only once along the way. "There's security in routine," agrees the healer, nodding; she seems quietly pleased about something. "I hadn't thought of it that way." Or of Mindhealing, presumably. Frowning, she agrees, "I suppose that would be more difficult. Bodies are more or less the same, but minds--" She breaks off, then concludes, "I imagine that means you're terribly useful, at the moment. For them. Even if you struggle with the same things."

Devaki takes a couple of sidewards steps like he's wary of Lilabet and trying to escape her, then a couple more as she edges forward again. The islander nods, slowly, in agreement with Madilla. "Half the time I'm not all that sure /I/ know how to-- deal." He lifts and drops his shoulder in a single, dismissive motion. "I'm Devaki, by the way," he adds, with a faint sort of smile as if apologizing for the oversight.

"No," breathes Madilla, her tone full of emotion - though exactly what she's emoting about is not necessarily obvious. "No, I'm sure. I'm--" She flushes again. "I'm sorry. Madilla. It's a pleasure to meet you, Devaki. And this is--" Meanwhile, Lilabet is undeterred. Also? A monster. "RAH!" she says, jumping at Devaki, though she's not really close enough to latch on to him or anything. It has Madilla giggling, as she reaches for her offspring, putting in, finally, "Lilabet. Lily."

The islander doesn't seem particularly bothered, though he's watching the healer's discomfort with interest. "And you, Madilla." He looks about to continue when Lilabet launches her attack. Devaki does his best scared impression and scoots around with the intention of 'hiding' behind Madilla, much in the same way Lilabet did. Except that he's taller and bigger than her so the hiding part doesn't work so well. There's a big grin on his face all the same as he peers out from behind the healer at the little girl. "Lily, huh? I like that name," he undertones to the healer.

Madilla opens her mouth into a (clearly fake) gasp, putting gloved hands to her cheeks. "Where did he GO, Lily? You scared him away!" Lily giggles madly, pointing and pointing as she says, "No mama, he's there, here's there!" Madilla, of course, looks around her, completely blind to the islander. "I don't see him!" More quietly, and to Devaki, "Thank you. I'm quite fond of it myself!"

Of course it probably helps that every time Madilla turns around to try and find him, Devaki shuffles around to keep behind her. Then, eventually, he raises his arms like he's going to attack the healer, no doubt in order to prompt the tiny girl to rescue her mother.

Madilla certainly can't see anything! She's perfect safe. But Lilabet's eyes go big and wide, and her lower lip wobbles, and then she's running at the both of them, waving her arms about: "No, no! Mama!" And then, as if she's only just remembered that she, too, can be a monster: "Rah!"

Devaki cowers away as Lilabet turns monster, skittering away far enough that it's apparent that the girl's saved her mother. He's chuckling as he does so, though the chuckle turns into a minute or two of coughing, the islander half crouching down to catch his breath after it passes, his skin flushed.

Lilabet looks likely to keep chasing the Devaki-Monster, but she's scooped up by her mother as she passes, squealing as she's lifted from the ground. All of Madilla's amusement fades, however, as the islander begins coughing. Grip tightening on her daughter, she waits until - presumably - he can talk again before, "That's still not sounding good. Are you all right?"

Remaining half crouched, Devaki drops a hand to the ground to keep his balance steady. With a brief nod of his head, he takes a slow breath, though his voice is still somewhat rough as he answers, "Fine. It'll pass in time. The cold's probably -- not helping." His gaze drifts past towards Lilabet, kind of wistful.

Madilla glances around, as though she's only just remembered that yes, it really is cold. "No, it wouldn't be," she confirms, still sounding concerned. "Are you still taking anything for it? Some cough syrup, maybe?" Healer mode, totally activated. Lilabet has gone silent again, watching, though she's got both arms around her mother's neck by now and is holding on tight.

"I was prescribed something," Devaki says, which is not the same as actually taking it, of course, though he's quick enough to provide a distraction from that thought process. Straightening, he says, "Lilabet will be a fearsome monster hunter when she grows older. Remind me to tell her the sea monster story, one of these days."

The narrowed line of Madilla's expression suggests she's well aware of the distinction between being prescribed and actually taking, but she doesn't push the point: perhaps her raised eyebrows are guilt-trip inducing enough. And anyway, she's easily distracted by mention of her daughter, her fond smile a visible indication of exactly how she feels about her. "She'd love that," she says. "I think she spends most of her days trying to hunt monsters. The other children are... less impressed. You're good with her."

"I like children," Devaki says, rather plainly, smiling as he rises from his crouch. "I can't wait to have my own." He doesn't seem aware that such a casual line might sound like a proposition in a Weyr. "She should spend some time with the island children. They love monster stories."

It's probably a good thing that this is Madilla, whose expression indicates amusement at that comment, her mouth parting just slightly. But there's a wistful note to her tone, nonetheless, "I hope you get them soon, then. I couldn't wait, either. I suppose I still can't." Beat. Pink-cheeked; "I mean, I hope Lily will get some siblings, one day. I'll see if we can't find some of the island children: she'd love that. Thank you."

Devaki is not unaware of the reaction to his comment, even if he doesn't understand the reaction itself. His brow furrows briefly, and he brings hands to his mouth more to cover the sound of another cough from the sharp-minded healer than any attempt to warm them. "Then why don't you, with your husband? You look about my age, so it can't be that..?" He, naturally, assumes she's married, since only married people have children on the island. He acknowledges the thanks with an easy tip of his head.

A dark blush, this time, much darker than any of her previous ones. Madilla's grip tightens on her daughter all over again, protective - though not /from/ Devaki. "I'm not married," she explains, simply. "Nor weyrmated, which is the dragonrider equivalent, I suppose. Lily's father is a friend of mine. I meant what I said, when I said I couldn't wait."

The protective gesture makes Devaki takes a step closer, brow furrowed, before he rocks back on his heels. "Oh." He absorbs that with surprise and frowning thought. "I-- I guess things are different here, where Bloodlines matters less." There's a faint emphasis on that word that's probably subtle enough to be missed. "What are you requirements for a father, then?" It could be a casual, inquisitive question, but there's a twitch of lips underneath and a hint of mirth to the islander's gaze.

Lilabet's thumb disappears into her mouth, her eyes closing more and more often: she's all tired out. Her mother's smile twists again, and then breaks into genuine amusement; she laughs. "In a weyr, bloodlines matter very little. It's different in holds." And, "Are you offering, then?" There's still pinkness in her cheeks, but she's evidently taking the question as a joke.

"It matters a lot, to our people." Devaki says, with a twitch of shoulders. His gaze drifts towards Lilabet with a growing smile that lingers as Madilla's words pulls his gaze back towards the journeywoman. "The council would expect me to marry you. Somehow I don't think that's quite what you want." His expression is pretty easy, amused still, though his gaze is somewhat considering.

Madilla's eyes go wide, her expression thoughtful, as Devaki speaks; her smile remains in place. "I suppose it would matter a great deal, when there are so few of you," she says, finally, sounding as though this has only just occurred to her. "And you? Would you marry a woman you've only just met in order to have a family? If it were that simple, for you, surely you'd be married already."

"It's--" Devaki hesitates, and he shifts his weight back and forth, probably hinting at his discomfort in the shoes. "It's different, for me. The Bloodlines are very important to us. To some of us more than others." He concedes her latter assumption with a low exhale. "If you were of the Blood they'd be more than happy to arrange something." Another half-joking proposition, this time spoken with a rise of brows and a rueful sort of smile.

'Blood'. Madilla mouths the word rather than saying it, though even without the sound of it, the capital is emphasised. "Alas and alack," she says, then, still smiling, still amused, but undeniably curious all the same. "I'm afraid my blood is as common as it gets. Farmhold in the middle of nowhere blood, really." Beat. "Does that mean you are Blooded? Properly, truly, Blooded?" There's interest, there. "Well, that is a pity."

There might be a hint of disappointment in the islander's expression, though he hides it well enough. "Properly, truly," Devaki agrees. "Though whether it'll be acknowledged is another thing. Another thing we'll have to-- adjust to, I guess." At her last statement, he lets out a full-throated laugh. "Well, if you don't tell, I won't." And now he's clearly joking, amused.

"I don't know that I've ever had a proper conversation with someone with Blood before," remarks Madilla. "I'm relieved to discover that you /appear/ to be like the rest of us in every other way. I don't suppose you bleed blue, or something?" She doesn't remark on the need to adjust, or the need for acknowledgment, though that new furrow in her brow suggests she's giving it significant thought. "In that case, if you can be quiet enough that we don't wake the baby--" Her head tips towards the secluded end of the lake, though of course, yes, she's joking: all smiles.

"No," Devaki remarks ruefully, his hand inadvertantly reaching up to brush the faint scar against his temple. "I definitely bleed like normal." His hand drops and then, he's eyeing her all speculatively. But he reads her manner as joking and, at ease, responds, "I couldn't promise that, no. You should probably get her somewhere warm anyway. /I/ should probably get somewhere warm." He gestures towards the bowl, as if he intends to escort them.

Madilla's gaze follows Devaki's hand towards that scar, though she doesn't let it linger there. "Another illusion, shattered," she remarks, cheerfully, only the faintest hint of a blush lingering about her cheeks - and indeed, that seems a relatively normal thing, really. "Alas, the sharp dive back to reality," she murmurs, amused. "You're quite right, of course. She needs a nice warm bed, and /I/ need to get her there before it's time for my night shift. And /you/ need to keep warm, take your medicine, and get rid of that cough. Lead on."

"I could spread a rumor to the contrary, should it please you?" The islander offers with a twitch of lips. Devaki clasps his hands behind his back, and turns back towards the bowl, keeping pace with the healer, turning towards her know and then to ensure that her steps in the snow are certain. Once at the entrance to the living cavern, he offers a parting smile, a devilishly phrased promise to catch up again, and takes off in another direction.

"Oh, please do!" laughs Madilla, delighted with the idea, but not entirely serious. When it comes time for them to part, she'll pause to watch after the exile for a moment; then, head shaking, smile still in place, she heads off to deliver her sleeping daughter to bed.