Difference between revisions of "Logs:Ancient History"

Weyrhealer's Office, High Reaches Weyr

The Weyrhealer's Office has clearly been recently redecorated; much of the furniture looks quite new. The room has been set out into several different spaces: a desk, with a chair behind it and two set out in front, several bookcases, and then a little sitting area. The hangings on the wall, the rugs, and the fabrics used to cover the chairs all match: a color scheme of purples and reds that aim for warmth and comfort.

A kettle hangs above the little hearth that provides warmth to the room, with a small shelf next to it where a collection of teas, as well as mugs and spoons, can be found.

It's supposed to be Madilla's day off, but even healers get sick, sometimes, especially at this time of the Turn, and so here she is: on duty. And if she's impatient to not be so (if she has, for example, other places to be), well, she's not showing it in her expression - and even the Apprentices on duty don't seem to be aware of it (or not Jinja, anyway, but is she ever that observant?). It must be a relatively quiet evening, because the door to Madilla's office is open, and Telavi's shown straight back, no waiting.

Telavi still has her glass of wine in hand, and she's looking a little startled, as though she hadn't exactly expected to be ushered to the Weyrhealer herself when she'd just... wandered in. "Good evening?" she half-greets, half-asks, just inside the door. She's certainly not dressed for an infirmary visit, not with those strappy sandals and that flowy skirt and her hair not only visible but looped into a flowery arrangement of whisky-blonde braids

Certainly, Telavi looks a lot-- well, better put together than most of Madilla's patients, and though the Weyrhealer doesn't seem startled per se, she does lean back from her position at the desk and give the weyrling a considering glance. "And to you, Telavi," she says in answer, remembering her name without apparent pause. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The weyrling lifts the glass as though she might offer it to Madilla, but lightly, as though it's more of a salute. "Oh, I don't know, Weyrhealer. It's just it seemed like a good place to go, I looked in, and then I admitted to a stomachache... and here I am, it can't be that bad. Are your apprentices that hard up, that they need to practically steal patients off the road?"

Madilla lets her hands rest upon the surface of the desk, still studying Telavi (and her glass), though there's a twist to her mouth, now, one that might signify amusement, or consideration, or maybe even ruefulness. "I'd encourage you to stop drinking wine, if it were a stomach ache," she says, lifting one hand, now, so that she can curl some hair behind her ear. "They're restless. It's been a surprisingly quiet night... but not so quiet that they feel like studying for their exams next month." Of course not.

"Why, it's next month, they have a whole half month left!" Telavi says brightly, her head tilted so her braids swing. But, curling her hand about the glass protectively, "It's my first glass, and I did eat dinner, and I don't know, it just happens, evenings. Well, some evenings... One of my friends thinks it's the food, but maybe she just said that to tease the cooks, which sounds more dangerous than anything to me." Her teasing smile invites Madilla to agree.

Alas, having determined that this is a real complaint (probably), Madilla seems less interested in joking about cooks, and more in giving Telavi a more appraising glance. "Wine's acidic," she points out. "If you've a stomach ache, it's more likely to make it worse than anything, I'm afraid. You said some evenings. How often? Is there anything notable about those days, in terms of what you eat, or any activities you perform?"

Tela's face falls. Now look what Madilla's done! The girl doesn't say anything right off, but rather brushes the flat of her thumb across the cool glass, looking down at it for that moment. "Maybe three in a seven," she admits. "Maybe four. I don't know about notable. We're always busy." She peeks up through her lashes, even more girlish. "Maybe more when I'm hungry."

That change in Telavi's expression doesn't go unnoticed - and it's enough to make Madilla pause, drawing her hands together upon the desk. "You don't really want to talk about your symptoms, though, do you," she says. "Or is it that you just want to talk?" Neither statement is accusatory; if anything, she seems more understanding for it.

Telavi's given pause by that, but in a little while, a few light footsteps take her towards Madilla, light and wary as a doe. "I don't know?" she offers herself up, as though Madilla could be counted upon to tell instead.

If Madilla finds that frustrating, it will probably only come out later on tonight, elsewhere. For now, her expression remains much as it is: thoughtful, understanding, and concerned more in the abstract than in the actual sense. "You really did just wander in," she supposes, then. "And now you're here. Well. How are things going?"

"Oh, busy." Tela flaps her hand, her free hand. Or maybe she said that already? "Flaming things all over the place, which is fun," and she starts to start in on the mechanics of firestone chewing and spitting up until she gets a better look at Madilla's face. "Nobody's getting along, my friend's pregnant, the boy's awful, not being able to do enough about it, not enough sleep, calisthenics way too early in the morning, certain people thinking that everyone needs to have hours and hours and hours of them, not enough," Tela stops, blushes, carries gamely on. "And the clothes are awful and we all smell unless I wash and wash and wash and even then, it's still there."

Madilla listens - which is something she's good at, and does without judgment, or any indication of anything except that she's listening, and listening hard. "It sounds like there's an awful lot going on," she says, finally, at the end of it. "I imagine, by now, weyrlinghood is starting to feel like it will last forever. And the... situation with Quielle, well. It's heartbreaking." Her words are quiet.

"Forever," Tela half-agrees. "Between is coming up," and that alone makes her pale, though of course she turns it right into, "Quielle can't do that, either, they say. Not until the baby's born and then not for a while later? She said?" She looks to Madilla for confirmation. "And there isn't anything we can do, is there? About the big picture? Sometimes I worry that we're not dealing with more important things, but then it isn't our place to, is it?" She drinks more of her wine, her free hand resting on the chair's back, rocking it so the top edge bumps into her thighs until she lets it fall forward again. "We should do what we can, but if there's more..."

Normally, when talking to someone like this, Madilla would have the kettle on: tea for everyone!. But Telavi's got her wine, and so the healer stays where she is, elbows on the desk so that she can steeple her hands, and rest her chin on the bridge. "If she weren't a weyrling, she'd be safe to Between now," she confirms. "But given everything - it seems safest to keep her on the ground. We want to look after her, not give her extra stress. It's... I remember being an Apprentice, and feeling that way. It's not your place, but that doesn't mean things don't impact you. You still live here. And it's hard - for all of us, I think. Everything's so mixed up."

"For safety," Tela murmurs. "She's so sad sometimes. At least she has family here... I'm glad you look out for her too. But what was going on when you were an apprentice, Weyrhealer?" She leans more heavily on the chair now, but the way she holds her glass is light, and she takes light sips too as though she could stop any time.

On the subject of Quielle, Madilla can only purse her lips together and look sad. Sad - and yet also determined, too, as though she's made promises to herself on the other weyrling's future, and that of her child. "She's lucky to have friends like you," she says, quietly. And her apprenticeship? She laughs, more wry than anything. "I've been here since Turn 17," she says. "Weyrwoman Satiet's death, Tiriana and K'del's ascension... the Vijays. The execution. There's been an awful lot of turmoil, in the past fourteen turns."

Tela's eyes can't help but widen, shining. "You were there for all that?" Real history! Real ancient history! "Fourteen turns... I'd have been five." All of a sudden she's in the seat and she's pushed it up close to the desk so that it might as well be a table. "Tell me more, would you? Please?"

That reaction makes Madilla's mouth twitch, just ever so slightly, like she's suppressing a smile-- a smile that would likely be partially overshadowed by the faraway expression in her eyes. Is it really that long ago? How time flies. "I-- what do you want to know? I can't say I was in the middle of most of it, but-- I can try." Not strictly true, but... who's counting?

"Oh, all of it!" Of course. "How it felt being there as an apprentice," Telavi amends. "Did you feel really a part of things? Did your masters press you one way or another? What was it like being here... with all that! and yet you're a crafter? And what were they like, the weyrwomen, really?" There's a brief display of dimples, ill-hidden before she sips her wine. "And was K'del really as young as all that?"

All those questions! Madilla looks a little overwhelmed by the weight of them all, but she's apparently game to try, because a moment later, even as she's drawing herself out of her chair to head towards that hearth to put tea on anyway, she begins. "I only knew Satiet at the end. My Journeyman was the one who diagnosed her; I was there, observing. It was - awful. She was something, something special. Tiriana, too, but in a different way. Tiriana was difficult. She struggled. I'm sorry things happened the way they did, for her. It's hard, being a crafter, because you're not involved. But you still live here. I tried not to have an opinion, because as a Healer... well. Your duty is to treat everyone, whether or not you agree with them."

It's going to be a full pot night, apparently. A teapot night, anyway. "Something special?" Telavi follows up as avidly as she hadn't let herself do with Z'ian. "Special, how? Awful because she was dying?" And then all of a sudden she's looking more thoughtful, but still always and ever at Madilla. "But you did have an opinion," she says as a statement.

"Satiet was..." Madilla hesitates, staring off into the stone above the hearth, where she stands, waiting for the water to boil. "I didn't know her well enough to really be able to say. I'm not sure if anyone did, though. Not many people. She was ruthless... composed... determined. I don't know. She just was." Indescribable. "She was so young. Two young daughters. And there was nothing we could do to save her." She's not hiding the emotion in her voice, emotion that lingers even to this day, so many Turns later. "Everyone always has an opinion. I had fewer than most, I suspect, because I wasn't raised to question. But yes, of course I had opinions."

Tela drinks that information, that emotion in as she might her wine, as she might the tea that's coming. She doesn't ask after Madilla's opinions, not directly. Only, softly, "Would you have done anything differently, if you had been Weyrhealer then?"

Madilla turns, glancing back at Telavi as she asks that question. "No," she says, shaking her head for emphasis. "I don't know if I could have handled it as well as Delifa did. I can't fault her for any of it. I'd even go so far as to say that she did the right thing involving a sixteen-turn-old Apprentice, no matter how difficult it was for me at the time. Sometimes we need difficult things."

"And... 'Delifa'? ...was your healer in charge?" It's a soft question, less doubtful than, "I suppose sixteen isn't so young. Some of my friends had children then, though I didn't. Wouldn't." Tela runs her fingertip along the very edge of the glass, too light to make a sound, even if it had been crystal to sing instead of a common casting. "I hesitate to wonder what we'd need this for."

"She was the Weyrhealer here until-- nearly two turns ago. She was my mentor." Madilla's quiet as she says that, and the abrupt boiling of the water on the hearth beside her is timed well so that she can turn her face away, afterwards. "It was a hard lesson. For me. But an important one. Sometimes... it's not until much later that we can really understand how something has impacted us. What we've learned from it. And sometimes good things come out of terrible things."

"That's very positive-thinking of you," but Telavi's wistful rather than cynical about it. If something about it discourages her from asking details of Madilla herself, well, perhaps Jinja will enlighten her later. She shifts, legs crossed at the knee. "Do you think about... well, what-ifs, much, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I try to be," says Madilla, smiling. She's not looking at Telavi, still, but the smile's audible in her voice, and still there when she turns back around, bearing teapot and two mugs to bring back to the table. It's not her usual blend, this tea-- and it smells like it'll need the sweetener she brings with it. Targeted tea, then. Good for what ails you. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's hard not to, I find. But if things hadn't happened as they did-- things change. Would I have my children? My life as it is? Would I be here at all? I think things tend to happen for a reason."

Telavi breathes in, and she gives Madilla a look that's just a bit doubtful. Even so, "I suppose you and weyrlingmaster Meara get along wonderfully." She tucks her hand about her wineglass, although there are only a few sips left. Perhaps she might stick with that?

"We haven't had a great many interactions," says Madilla of the greenriding Weyrlingmaster, "But I suppose we do. Don't give me that look. I don't say I always like the things that happen. I wish a lot of them didn't." She pours the tea, nudging one of the mugs towards the weyrling even as she adds, "This should help settle your stomach. I'll give you some to take with you, too."

"Then maybe you should," Tela says with a hint of dimples, as though she could possibly give instructions to her weyrhealer, much less her weyrlingmaster. "Weyrlingmaster Meara would no doubt say that that's a useful, positive attitude." Perhaps her sigh is for the tea, murmuring that Madilla's already given her a different sort... but she takes it, and after that sweetener she'll drink it, as dutiful as though she always followed both weyrhealer and weyrlingmaster's every instruction. Maybe, during forthcoming nights in her weyr, she'll even drink the rest.

And Madilla's approving, if not in a patronising kind of way. And more than happy to tell a few more stories-- though not for too long. She does, after all, have other places to be.