Difference between revisions of "Logs:Talk of the Gather"

It's heading towards the end of the dinner hour, which is about when Devaki shows up for food -- after most of the Weyrfolks have already begun to disperse. He's filled up a plate of food and has chosen a comfortable looking couch near the hearthside. His half-drunk mug of ale rests on the table in front of him, his plate balanced on his lap -- half his attention taking by a bundled book of hides, eyes slowly scanning the lines with a certain, fixed concentration.

Madilla is still wearing her work apron when she enters the Nighthearth, the white fabric grubbied with remainders of the day's activities, streaks in this colour or that. The healer herself looks tired, but content; certainly, her footsteps towards the klah pot on the hearth are cheerful rather than exhausted, though they fall short of springy. It's while she pours herself a mug that she notices Devaki, though she keeps her silence: watching, thoughtful, until the mug is filled and she puts the pot down again.

There's something of a sixth sense about many of the exiles; something to do with being a full time hunter, maybe, or being used to living in a place where you know everyone. He glances up from the book in passing, catches sight of Madilla over by the klah plot, and offers her a smile. "Maddy," he calls, a hand gesturing towards the couch space next to him in invitation. "Can I distract you for a time, or are you heading back to work?" he asks, gaze dropping towards her apron, then back up with a grin.

"Hello, Devaki," says Madilla, caught out but not apparently unhappy about it. "I'm done for the evening, finally; I can spare some time as long as it isn't going to distract /you/ too much?" Her head inclines towards his book, though rather than letting the question be answered, she picks up her mug to bring it closer, settling in upon the couch a short distance away. "What are you working on?"

"Never," the islander assures her, all smiles as he carefully marks his place and closes the book. He sets it carefully on the table, treating it with the reverence of one not used to having such things to hand. "Catching up on history. Up to the ninth Pass. Do you think someone made up Lessa? And--" a thought occurs to him, all of a sudden. "Can dragons really go back in time?" He's intent, all of a sudden, leaning forward a bit.

Madilla wraps both hands about her mug, giving Devaki a thoughtful glance complete with sucked in breath. Exhaling again, she seems amused by his remark about Lessa, though it's his latter question that draws the most of her attention. "I--" she begins, suddenly frowning. "I don't know. I suppose I tended to think about all of that as a-- story, really. Not /real/. Because it all seemed so fantastical." Lessa, apparently, included. "I've certainly never heard of anyone /actually/ doing it."

Devaki frowns thoughtfully at the response. "Maybe, but -- there's a Harper's song about it, too. And they normally pride themselves on being... right." There's a slight pause where one might expect a comment of 'true' instead. "It does seem fantastical, though," he agrees. "I guess that's what people say about the exiles' story, too," he adds, though there's no bitterness, merely idle observation. With a flick of his fingers, he seems to dismiss it and focuses attention on Madilla. "How's Lily doing?"

"That's true. Sometimes, reality is stranger than fiction. Perhaps it really is possible to travel through time." And perhaps it isn't; either way, the thought has given Madilla some pause. She's not unwilling to abandon that subject, however, for all that her answer to Devaki's next is quietly tired. "She's doing well. It's been a-- a difficult month, but she's flourishing. She's been learning how to count; she's very excited about that."

"I suppose a dragonrider would be the one to ask," Devaki says, with a kind of musing expression, like he's sifting though a mental list of names. He frowns a little at Madilla's answer, pausing halfway through lifting a forkful of food, "A difficult month?" he echoes. "Did something happen? I'm -- I'm glad she's doing well, though. She's an amazing little girl."

Madilla's nod is evidently intended to confirm that yes, a dragonrider /would/ be the one to ask. Her expression falters at Devaki's frown. "Her father died," she explains, quietly, pressing into service a sad little smile that gives her the impression of hovering between 'absolutely devastated' and 'not at all concerned'. She takes a deep breath. "But we're fine. She's fine. Thank you; I think she's pretty amazing, too."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Devaki says, in a sincere tone of one who has experienced plenty of loss himself. He leans over as if to touch her arm sympathetically, before withdrawing. He pauses briefly, chewing slowly on a mouthful of food. Finally, he says, "You two weren't..." he hesitates on how to describe it. "He was a friend of yours, right? Does Lily understand?" he asks. "Glad she's-- you're both fine, though."

Madilla probably wouldn't have objected to the arm touching - certainly, she doesn't draw away - but her hands tighten on her mug, instead, and she takes a deep breath. "No, he and I weren't - together. We were friends. I don't think she really does understand, no, except that her daddy has gone away and she misses him. She probably won't really remember him, when she's older, and I hate that, but-- it is what it is, right? We'll be okay. She's not the first to lose a parent, and she won't be the last." Stoicism does not entirely extend to a proper smile, however. "Thank you. I'm sorry; that probably ruined the conversation, didn't it?"

"Not at all," Devaki lies, though he's obvious about the lie and lets out a rueful little laugh afterwards. "Well, I'm sure she's looking forward to the gather, anyway. I'd offer to take her out for a dance -- everyone says that's what you do at a gather -- but I... well, we didn't learn dances on the island. Not really the sort of thing we had time for." He doesn't seem particularly upset about this, carefully lifting another forkful of the food.

Madilla smiles ruefully into her mug, sipping and swallowing carefully. "She is. I think we all are. It will be nice to get out. I'd watch out, though: you may be off the hook for a dance, but if she sees you, she might ask for a piggy-back ride, at least. She likes you." The mug gets balanced on one apron-covered knee, allowing her left hand to be freed in order to push an escaping tendril of hair out of her face. "I never learned to dance, either. It can be fun to watch, though; I think that's what I enjoy most about gathers. Watching the dancing, and browsing the stalls, and admiring all the beautiful clothes that some of the holdfolk wear. You are intending to go, aren't you? To see?"

Devaki laughs easily at the warning. "Piggy back rides I can do -- if she's up for the challenge of riding on a sea monster, that is." He's chuckling at the thought, mostly finishing with his food and setting it carefully on the table. "I'm intending to go," he agrees, "It's going to be nice just to get out of the Weyr -- no offense," he adds, with a twitch of lips. "Though it might be kind of dull, since I can't dance, can't buy anything, and don't have suitable clothes to wear. We'll undoubtedly stand out there just as much as here -- but you kind of get used to it after a while." He pauses a beat, studies Madilla sidelong, and confesses with a grin, "I was actually hoping you knew how to dance, and would maybe offer to teach me. There goes that idea."

Madilla's expression varies between pleasure and understanding, as Devaki talks, culminating in genuine amusement in the wake of that sidelong glance, which she meets with a grin of her own. "Would that I could," she says, laughingly. "A few people have tried to teach me, but I'm afraid my feet don't seem to work that way. I'd probably end up crushing your feet, or tripping you to the floor." The mug gets transferred from one hand to the other as the healer adds, "I doubt it will be dull, even given all of that. Gathers are-- there's always something to see. I understand completely, wanting to get out of here, even for a little while. And High Reaches Hold is near the sea; will that make it feel a bit more like home?"

"You're assuming that I'd do any better at all," Devaki says, laughingly. "Well, maybe I can seek out another willing teacher before the event. It can't be that difficult, right?" He's looking more hopeful than actually believable. He leans forward to grab his mug, taking a long gulp, a smile twitching his lips upwards at her mention of the sea. "I do miss it," he admits. "The sea really did give us life. It provided for us. It's hard not for that to -- be something you always remember." There's a hint of wistfulness, but it passes pretty quickly. "I think I'd like to travel all over, eventually. Everyone talks about all these amazing places they've been, or know about. The Oth-- Raum talked about a sea made of sand that went as far as the eye could see. It seems... fantastical," he borrows her word with a grin.

"That's true," allows Madilla. "And probably not sensible. You, after all, are the one who tripped in the snow, as I recall." It's a light tease, and one that fades into semi-seriousness as she listens. "I understand," she says, softly - finally. "Maybe it isn't quite the same, but I still miss the land around where I was born; I still dream about it. /Home/, even though the weyr is where I live, and where I want to be." She lets out a breath, and draws her mouth in: a rueful little smile. "The deserts of Igen are worth seeing; you're right about that. And the jungles of Nerat and Ista. Black sand. I never dreamed I would see as much of Pern as I have; it's full of wonders. Fantastical wonders."

"Hey!" Devaki's quick to defend himself, lifting a hand, even though he's laughing as he does so, "I was sick -- I had an excuse." His expression too, grows more serious, listening carefully before he says slowly, "But you can go back, right? I mean, you know plenty of riders. I'm sure they'd be willing to give you and Lily a lift there, right?" His eyebrows rise in disbelief as she talks about black sand. "That's -- I've never even heard of such a thing," he says, slowly. "I guess the... riders have a significant advantage over normal people in that regard." There's a hint of something, a little like jealousy, in his voice, though his expression is thoughtful.

Madilla's expression shows mock-dubiousness at this 'excuse', but she leaves the topic alone, admitting, instead, with a certain amount of false breeziness, "I haven't been back in turns. Since long before Lily was born. My family-- it's better for them, for all of us, if I stay away." It's clearly been long enough that this isn't an ever-present hurt, but the healer is nonetheless quick to move on, saying, "They do, don't they? Riders. It would be-- amazing, to have that freedom. To be able to go anywhere at the drop of a hat. And to have a dragon, too." There can be no question that /she/ is vaguely envious, though she's quick to add, "I don't know if that would be enough to give up everything I do have, though. I'm better off as a healer."

Devaki's brow furrows as she speaks of her family. Slowly, he says, "I can't imagine what it's like to not see my family all the time. But I guess it's-- not the same for everyone. And not like we could avoid each other on the island, even if we wanted to," he concedes with a self-directed chuckle. "I-- I don't think I'd want to give up who I am, to be a rider," he says, eventually. "And I think you're better off as a healer, too. I can say that, having both seen you work /and/ been one of your patients." He offers a smile, before leaning forward to pick up his books. "I should... I normally drop by the infimary to see grandfather after dinner. I should go."

"I've made my own family," says the healer, quiet but also firm. "I'm not alone." It doesn't seem to be intended as a chide - just a statement of fact, life as it is. "You're probably right, though. About the rider thing. I don't think I'd want to /be/ a rider-- it feels like two separate things." She seems pleased by the compliment, and even, perhaps, disappointed by Devaki's departure; still, she's quick to agree, "Of course. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you. Perhaps we'll see you at the gather, if not before then. Have a - pleasant evening, Devaki."

"Yes, you did," Devaki says, with a nod, a hint of apology in his voice even if it's not expected. "I certainly hope so," he agrees, on that last, "Maybe we can catch up for dinner again. A proper meal?" he suggests, though he doesn't wait for a response, throwing a grin over his shoulder as he departs.