Difference between revisions of "Logs:Journeyman"

Milandra, thought Madilla, pleased. Milandra! She felt like she was floating on air: such an easy birth-- or short, at least. Powerful. Fast. Incredible, in some ways. It was exhilarating.

She stopped to bathe - having not had time to do so, that morning - and then headed on to the Infirmary, late for her shift, but at least for an entirely forgivable reason. It was nice to feel so without cares for once: Milani was fine, Milandra was fine, and for the moment, she could forget Gabrion, and W'chek, and B'tal, and everything else that had been weighing so heavily on her mind.

When she rounded the corner into the infirmary, one of the Apprentices was at the counter, and stared up at her with big eyes. "Delifa wants to see you," the younger girl reported. "She's in her office."

For half a second, Madilla let her foot catch, worried-- Gabrion? Something about Jess and the baby? But she was, quite simply, in far too good a mood, and merely nodded. "Thank you," she told the girl, as she stepped past the desk and on through the infirmary, towards Delifa's office with its closed door.

Delifa sat at her desk, reading over a pile of charts, one finger twisting a strand of pale hair around and around as she read. Sitting in the centre of the desk, just beyond the stack of charts, was a knot, but Madilla barely had time to notice it before her mentor was waving her into the seat in front of the chair.

So Madilla sat, pressing her hands together into her lap, head lifted so she could look directly at the older healer. "You wanted to see me?" she prompted, after a moment, filling the silence.

Delifa set down the chart she'd been reading, and met Madilla's gaze with a smile that could well have been amused. "I do believe you always come in here expecting the worst, Madilla. No... I had a letter from the Hall this morning, about your time spent there."

Madilla raised her eyebrows; it wasn't that her mood had evaporated, but she felt rather more cautious about it. "Oh?" Slowly, carefully.

"Madilla! You sound as though you expect your report to be awful."

"No... I just..."

Delife waved a hand at her, telling her silently to stop. "Actually, they sent something for you. And after your morning's work, it seems appropriate to give it to you."

"Sent something?"

"Madilla. On the desk. In front of me."

Both pairs of eyes lowered their gaze towards the desk, and Madilla's cheeks turned pink. She stared.

"Walk, Madilla, walk," was Delifa's wry remark, recalling that first promotion, those turns before. "You've earned it."

"But I'm only nineteen. I'm--"

"Sometimes, age isn't all that matters, Journeyman. Now: we'll have to work out your new schedule, but that can wait. You'll need to visit-- Giorda, is it, while the Headwoman's out?-- and get your room assignment. Take the rest of the day off to celebrate, and we'll talk more tomorrow."

It was in a daze that Madilla left the office (nearly leaving the much-prized knot behind in the process; Delifa had to call her back), so much so that she barely notiiced the pleased and proud glances sent in her direction on her way out; she certainly didn't notice Delifa, briimming with pride, watching her from the doorway.

What a day! A baby, and all this.

And at the back-- no, the front of her mind, dancing, spinning: You can have it all now. It's time. You can make things right again. This time next turn... it can really happen!