Logs:The Waiting
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| RL Date: 28 July, 2009 |
| Who: Madilla, Milani |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Millie and Dilly share hopes and dreams for the future, commiserate on the suckiness of waiting and share some quiet occupation of a dreary, rainy evening. |
| Where: Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Delifa/Mentions, L'vae/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Resident Common Room, High Reaches Weyr Just off of the main passageway lies the small cavern that forms the hub of the residents' quarters, kept immaculately clean by the headwoman's staff and warmed in cold weather by a stone hearth to the left and well back from the entrance. Comfortable chairs and a plush fur arrayed before the hearth make an inviting spot to curl up with a book or handicraft, or just to sit and chat. Beyond, additional chairs stand in clusters throughout the room, some upholstered with age-softened hide, some plain wood. At the widest point of the cavern, a round table gleams with polish, though its surface is nicked and scarred from Turns of use. Beyond the table, the very back of the cavern often lies in shadow unless the glowbaskets there are unlidded to cast cozy pools of light. The commingled scents of klah, smoke and polish permeate the air along with the sweetness of rosemary and lavender. Tapestries hang across the entrances to dormitories and more private quarters as well as the exit to the outer hall, colorful protections from drafts. After some /actually/ spring-like weather, it's turned cold again, and that has brought a return of the trend towards a crowded common room, come evening. Amidst the throng sits Madilla, her lap covered in a double-sized quilt that looks very close to done, though she's still working on it with needle and thread, attaching a trim about the edges. The work seems to be taking up most of her attention: for once, she's not even reading as well, just, apparently, content to sit and work, entirely oblivious to the conversations going on around her. Crowded common room means Milani's got her eye on that chair near Madilla that's not occupied and the headwoman dressed down and off-duty carries a book under her arm. Quick strides bring her to the chair and she flops in it promptly, kicking her shoes off. "Aha! Vacant chair. And Madilla, that looks /lovely/ it's really coming along!" Madilla, despite her concentration, is evidently not so deep in her work that she can't glance up at the sound of Milani's voice, and look genuinely pleased to see the Headwoman. "You're lucky," she says, warmly; "It's busier in here tonight than I've seen it for a while. I suppose it's the weather. Hard to believe it was pleasant walking out there at this time of night, just a few days ago." Her hands pause so that she can stroke the pinwheel-patched quilt; she looks really quite pleased with herself. "Thank you! I'm very pleased with it. Nearly done. How are you, Milani?" "Mm, it's wet and a little you know raw-ish out there," Milani agrees, "so you know, not about to pass up a decent and /empty/ chair," the headwoman says with a little grin. "You should be, it's good work," the headwoman compliments. "It's for a gift right?" Breath in and the headwoman tilts her head back. "You know. It's that time of the turn." More quietly. "So everyone's got something on their minds." "I can't blame you at all," agrees Madilla, taking up her needle again, though her gaze slides evenly between the work and her companion. "Yes, it's for W'chek. I was hoping to have it done for when they moved into their weyrs, but all the spring colds have been keeping me busy. It'll definitely be done for his turnday, though." Though she says this lightly, a shadow crosses her expression at the last of what Milani has to say, and her nod is uncertain. "Yes, of course. It's... difficult." Pause. "For a lot of people, I think." "Ohh, well he's a very lucky boy," Milani says emphatically, "to have someone making him something so nice who /is/ so nice herself." The headwoman's smile shades sweet for a moment, then she sighs softly, nods and reaches over to rest her fingers lightly against Madilla's arm. "Yes," she says simply. "How -- are you holding up?" Madilla positively beams, under the weight of that compliment, her comment earnest: "I hope he likes it. I think he will." But she, too, loses that pleasure, taking a deep, hesitant breath before she can answer, her gaze resting squarely upon the Headwoman. "It's strange," she admits, pulling her lips into a wry half-smile. "I feel very distant from it. But... hyper-aware, too. I don't know if that makes sense. I feel like I ought to feel worse, but it's like I'm different." "I don't see how he couldn't," Milani says confidently and cracks open her book, but leaves it resting across her knees, not reading yet. "Mm, it does actually. I'm really aware of how everyone else is feeling it and some of ... the things that go with it for me. But I wasn't close to /her/, you know?" Madilla takes a deep breath before responding again, and then nods, letting her head still before she actually says anything. "Yes. Yes, exactly. I feel /so/ much for everyone who is grieving, still, and especially for her family. But. I mourned her mostly as a lost patient, and as a symbol, and..." She exhales. "I'd react differently, now. One turn older, and wiser, I hope." She considers the Headwoman for a moment, her needle still, and then, "How is it going, with the Weyrwoman? I assume that's... part of it. For you." "Mmm. She was my boss," Milani says simply. "And a good one and ... well things are a lot more complicated without her," the headwoman adds quietly and then looks down for a moment at her book but doesn't actually read. "Honestly, Madilla, I'd rather not drag you into any of that. Let's just say that the current Weyrwoman and I have our ups and downs." Madilla smoothes the trim she's attaching with her free hand, considering it rather than Milani as she listens. Finally, "Of course. There must be something more cheery we can discuss, right? Um-- oh, I know! Journeywoman Delifa is going to have a baby." Only, of course, that leads her to tilt her head up, and sort of freeze. Beat. Then, "The weyrlings are looking good. Excited about being in their weyrs, from what I've seen." "It's all right, Madilla," Milani starts and then her fingers press down hard against the open book and she blinks a few times, takes a deep breath, looks up again. "I'm very happy to hear that, very glad for her," the headwoman says sincerely. "They're doing well, yes. Some nice spaces for some of them and of course it's always fun to furnish them." Madilla's awkwardness lingers, her deep breath followed by a smile that is at least partially genuine - but also uncertain. She doesn't look at Milani as the Headwoman responds, though her own response is earnest enough: "So am I. Though. She's forty-one. It's... Well." Pause. Smile. "Yes, so I hear! Apparently, W'chek's is... interesting. Though I haven't seen it myself to know. I hope the quilt doesn't clash with it, unless, of course, he paints." "She's very lucky," is what Milani says softly and fidgets with the corner of the book. "I hope she'll be happy and have an easy time," the headwoman says still sincerely though one of her knees is bouncing a little. "I think that something made with so much heart ... it won't matter if it clashes." Madilla's gaze creeps back up, watching Milani cautiously, teeth resting tightly upon her lower lip. "I hope so," she agrees. "Her-- boyfriend. Will help, I think. I hope. And we'll take good care of her." After a breath, she adds, "I hope so. Perhaps he won't mind, regardless; he doesn't seem terribly fussed about colours, in general." "That's very good, you know have to make those menfolk work for it," Milani says with exaggerated cheer and blows out a breath too. "No, he seems you know, more into personality." There's a hint of uncertainty in the headwoman's voice. A moment more, and then Madilla breaks. Desperately, "I'm sorry. I keep going and saying the wrong thing, Milani, and I didn't mean to. And now it's all awkward, and I've made you unhappy." Milani blinks a few times, then closes the book and sets it aside, leans forward a little. "No you haven't Madilla," the headwoman assures and reaches over again with one hand to the healer's arm. "I'm not unhappy, there's just certain things on my mind right now. Things that ... happened starting with when Satiet died and rolled downhill from there. But it's all right." She smiles reassuringly at the apprentice. "It's also that I don't know W'chek /that/ well. But I really do think he'll be pleased with this. If only because it's from you and you put so much real effort into it." Madilla does not, at least at first, look convinced. But after a moment more, she takes a deep breath, meeting Milani's breath, and attempts a nod. "I-- all right. I'm sorry, then, for assuming. It is all right? I mean, for you. Now." There's distinct, even desperate, hope in her gaze. "W'chek doesn't make it easy for people to get to know him. The /real/ him. I think he will. He was..." She manages to smile, at this. "So pleased and excited, when I suggested I make it for him. It was a nice feeling." "I am, most of the time," Milani says honestly and gives Madilla's arm another little pat. "Sometimes, it still makes me sad. Sometimes I think I made a mistake. But I made the best decision I could at the time and I can't let guilt or grief for it weigh me down. If I'm so lucky... there will be other chances for me. I'm only twenty-one after all!" There she smiles again though the healer might catch that little tinge of sadness in her eyes. "I agree about W'chek, but he seems like a pretty stand up guy for all he has some um ... quirks." Madilla's nod is a slow one, and comes at the same time as her hand reaches out to rest, for a moment, on top of Milani's on her arm. It heads back to her lap again a moment later, as she says, "I hope so. I hope you get what you want. What will make you happy. I think you deserve it." She's watching so closely that she probably does see that sadness, and perhaps that's why her words are so fervent. "Quirks. I suppose that's a way to put it. But he's good to me, and I think he'll be a very good husband and father." Beat. "Weyrmate. I mean." "Maybe, someday," Milani says with a little smile and draws her hand away once Madilla's hand has retreated in turn. "He seems very dedicated, so that speaks well of him as a weyrmate. I really hope that you will be happy together when it comes time." "Like you said: you're still young. There's plenty of time." Despite Madilla's words, she sounds impatient, even outright yearning, as she continues, "I think we will. When it comes. It's... difficult. The waiting. It's at least two and a half turns before I make Journeyman, and we can't... until then." "A good ten turns at least," Milani says agreeably but she leans back in her chair a little. "For a long time I didn't want children," she says candidly. "I think though that that was partly because I was pretty young then. Too selfish. I can see myself being mother now the way I couldn't before." There's a little pause and further sympathy in her expression. "I know from waiting, believe me. When A'son was Weyrleader at Ista ... and I didn't even know he cared about me ... that was tough. It'll be all right Madilla if you really honestly care about each other and can -- well if you can speak clearly to each other." "/At least/," agrees Madilla, earnestly, with a smile as, finally, she takes up her needle again. "I've always wanted to be a mother, but I suppose that's the way I was brought up. From what I've seen, a lot of people, here, change their mind as they got older. I hear it a lot, in my work." Her nod is slower, as she responds to the rest of what Milani has said, "We'll make it work. We will. It's not /so/ long... and we're not emotional people. We're sensible. That will help, I think." "I didn't really like little kids much when I was younger," Milani says with a little shrug. "They were more annoying than anything else. But I have more patience now," she explains further. "And -- well with the right person, it would be worth it," she takes another deep breath, lets it out slowly. "If anyone can, Madilla, it's you." And then Millie sets the book down, slips out of the chair and reaches over to offer the apprentice a hug. Madilla meets the hug slightly hesitantly at first, but warms to it, squeezing Milani gently as she murmurs; "I hope you find the right person soon, then. Or... in good time. When it's right. For you. If nothing else... it took Delifa until now, but she got there, right?" That's probably intended to be comforting. Milani squeezes back affectionately as is her wont, then sits back in her chair and reaches for her book. "For now, I've got other things I need and want to focus on, so yes, in due time." There's a little pause and Millie taps the book lightly. "Would you like me to read aloud while you sew?" Madilla is smiling, with affection and warmth, as they both return to their former positions, and she takes up her needle once more. "First things first. Like with me, I suppose," she agrees, and then, smoothly, but with obvious interest: "I'd like that a lot, actually. If you would? But only as long as your voice can stand it, of course." Smiling warmly across at the younger woman, Milani nods. "Exactly, first things first, and I love to read aloud and to be read to. I do this with my friend L'vae quite a bit, only he's ... away a lot right now." Her expression shades fond. "He's found someone at the Harper Hall. So I'm very happy for him. But anyway, here goes," and Millie turns over the pages, lifts the book a little to start reading from the collection of tales that L'vae gave her for her last turnday. Madilla's face lights at mention of L'vae finding someone; she seems genuinely pleased with the idea, though she doesn't remark on it, instead snuggling down into her seat to listen, as she continues with her even, steady stitches on the dark blue trim that surrounds her quilt. Milani 's voice rises and falls steadily, telling the story of the holder's well, a simple fable with endearing characters and a touch of humor, though it's not an out and out comedic tale. Should Madilla like to hear another, she has voice enough for it and so the two can pass a pleasantly companionable and quiet evening until it's time to call it a night. Madilla is an appreciative, if not effusive, audience: she laughs in the right places, and follows along eagerly, whilst maintaining her silence. A second story is warmly encouraged, but that's about as much as she says, up until it's time to head off, at which point her "Good night, and thank you, Milani," is warm, and clearly well content. "You're welcome and sleep well, Madilla. Don't dream of quilts," Milani says with a little wink as her feet drop over the side of her chair to find her shoes again and they part company, each to her own bed. "I'll try," laughs Madilla, merrily, before she disappears into the dorms.
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