Logs:Forever
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| RL Date: 18 August, 2009 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After a Gather, Leova and Madilla catch up. Flowers are thrown. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Delifa/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Lingering summer days provide ample daylight for side trips on the way home from even very full afternoons of gathering. And so, while dusk finally begins to drop, that this particular mountain meadow gets a handful of visitors. Running her hand across the heads of a few wilting flowers, Madilla takes a few ambling steps forward, breathing out a lingering, contented breath. "It was a lovely gather," she turns back to say. "I liked that harper show, the one with the puppets." A sudden wind picks up, blowing the grasses about Madilla's skirts, but it dies off soon enough as Vrianth gains height in a slow, tightening spiral. Leova leaves her straps there behind the healer, a pile in the crushed grass with her jacket thrown atop. Stands there a moment with hands to hips, watching. Says, after a moment, "Wasn't so much playing at hitting each other over the head as they sometimes are, hm?" She pushes up her sleeves, then, the airy blouse her one concession to a daylight Gather near to home. Madilla's skirts are brighter coloured than usual, and her blouse nicer, but it's hardly a formal gather gown. Still, her cheeks are pink and there are flowers in her hair, and she looks enormously satisfied, keeping a grip on those skirts for that sudden wind. She tilts her head up to watch Vrianth for a moment, but then, angles it back to respond to Leova, laughing. "No, not so much. Which was nice. I don't particularly find that kind of thing funny." "Neither," Leova seconds and, why not, lets one hand trail along the flower-studded grass as she begins to approach. Slowly. With, every now and again, a discreet pinching motion that leaves one of the stalks headless in her wake. "/Are/ you tempted to go back for that bracelet? Was pretty. Seemed like it went with that... that thing you have." Madilla, meanwhile, bends down to examine more closely one of the flowers - one that has maintained, for the most part, structural integrity, and even shade, despite being well past perfection. Mention of the bracelet makes her face fall visibly, though it's with a rueful smile that she draws herself back up, head shaking. "Tempted - of course. But it would feel... excessively decadent. Wasteful." Pluck pluck step pluck step pluck pluck, and the resulting ammunition's shifted to her other hand, tucked neatly behind her back in common drill-rest fashion. "Though," the greenrider says, "At least you could sell it, someday, if you ever needed. Not like clothes, to wear out... wood, to get used up." A chunk of which happens to be the prize of her own day's purchases, with a natural dark-and-light striping. "Nice to be whittling again, though. Even if it's just a little." Madilla's hand has crept unconsciously towards her neckline as, presumably, she thinks back to the bracelet in question; it hovers there, as, after hesitating, she allows, "I suppose that's true. Though I wouldn't buy clothes, either, not when there are so many perfectly good ones to be had from stores... Your wood is a hobby, though, something that brings you pleasure." The hand drops again, back towards the waving grasses. "It's nice to have something like that to do. Like my quilts." Amber eyes track the gesture, and Leova's got a decided nod for stores. Though. "Pleasure." It's half-scoffed, not a little wry: she wishes. "Getting closer again, anyhow... but. Quilt/s/," emphasis on the sibilant. Up and away, Vrianth's doing barrel rolls between the clouds. It turns up one corner of the greenrider's smile. "What are you working on now? And that... is that a necklace, there. What you got." Almost off hand, but, well, related, too, so; "The weyrlings are looking good." Madilla skims the grass with her hand as she nods, continuing on to explain, "I'm working on a baby blanket, now, for Delifa." Concern, just a brief flash of it. Hastily moving on, "And I'm going to help B'tal with one-- teach him how." It takes her a few more seconds to answer the last, hands outright avoiding that chain, now. A breath, and then, "A necklace? Yes." "Especially when they're drilling. Way up in the air. Where they can't talk to each other." Leova's deadpan around it, but her expression changes as Madilla's tone does, though she's quiet then. Almost quiet. There's an, "Obviously don't keep him busy enough," that's sotto voce. She deadheads another poor flower. "How's she doing? Delifa. And... yes?" It's /so/ prompting. In fact, she tosses the little half-dried flower at Madilla. It's a blue one. A smile is slow to return to Madilla's features, though that deadpan comment earns a wry expression, knowing, though, of course, what she knows is entirely superficial. Being showered with flower petals, however, helps a great deal - she doesn't even make any attempt to duck, just lets it all fall, leaving bits of flower through her hair alongside the fresher ones put their deliberately. Still, she sounds serious enough as she responds, slowly, "She's... Not good at following healer's orders. Doing too much." Now, her hand does slide back to that necklace; "It's from W'chek. Like a... promise gift. It was his mother's." "Most healers that way? Seems like it," only there's a warmer sort of wryness now, and also a red flower's petals lofted in the air. Seeing as how Madilla hadn't ducked, before, and all. Leova does aim to look necklace-ward, though, unselfconscious about peering at the younger woman's neckline where someone else might instead be leering. "His /mother's/." It might as well be a, Well-well-/well/. The red petals join the blue, and Madilla just seems amused for it, even lifting her arms as if to welcome them. But, as she does: "Probably. We like to think we know better, but..." As Leova leans closer, she even extracts the necklace from it's usual position beneath her clothes, to allow a better look: it's simple, but pretty enough. Blushing; "He asked his stepmother for it, before she went back home. It's... nice to have. While we wait." In /that/ case... the greenrider's hands go scrabbling into each other behind her back, and this time... except that then, there's a delay. Leova has to look first. To make admiring noises. To say, "And that would be why I haven't seen her smiling face lately," which could verge on facetious, yes. Half in apology, "He's in my mini-wing, but it's not like we talk about his family. But! It's pretty. And it's nice to see you with something nice... thought much about how you'd like it? Handfasting." She hums a bar or two of a wedding song, and /now/ comes the full handful of petals, as one might shower a bride. All the admiration and attention makes Madilla look a little awkward, but pleased, too: she is, definitely, pleased. "They went home a few months ago," she says, something solid to put in there, and not without a knowing twist of the lips. The full handful of petals, and the humming, make her outright laugh, though it comes with a shake of her head. "Thank you." Earnestly said. And, "No... not as such. It's still two turns away, at least. I have to be a Journeyman, first." "Made life a little easier," Leova guesses. "For him, anyhow," and then she drops down into the grass, just like that, and smiles up at Madilla the way a little girl might. "Can still imagine. Plan... A dress. Where to have it. What to say. Little breaths, here and there, when you're not studying." A bob of Madilla's head agrees that yes, it probably does make it easier for him. A few moments more, glancing down at Leova, and then she joins the greenrider on the grass, smoothing her skirts over her legs, then reaching for one of the fallen petals to play with it as she speaks. "It hadn't even occurred to me that I could," she admits, now, looking pleased. "I think I will. Something to feel like it won't be /forever/ to wait." "Dress takes time to make, after all," says Leova with a sideways smile. "Could chat up Mievne... or do you have something you've always wanted? Since you were a little girl. Before the babies come," but her laugh is soft after the teasing. She dabbles a hand in the grass, too, searching out one of those long grasses to pull out, and when she finds it, gnaws idly on the white inner stem. Madilla's eyes half close as she considers all of this, her head tipped up towards the last of the light. "It was the same, traditional, red dress, at home. Always assumed I'd wear that... but to have something /made/." Clearly, the idea appeals, never mind her earlier scoffing at such a concept. And: "/Babies/." Pleased. "Would have worn my mother's," Leova says after a moment. Quiet. Only then, she goes and uses her fingernail as floss to get out a bit of stem from between her teeth, not girly at all. "Something you can re-dye and wear again? Or to hand down to your own daughters," that hint of a smile in her voice again. /Babies/. Madilla's babies, anyway. It catches Madilla's interest, that comment, and her eyes flicker open again so that she can consider the greenrider. "I can't imagine--" she begins, then trails off, to flush, and anyway, she's distracted by this whole /concept/ of having daughters to hand something down to. "I'd like that. Though, I suppose, growing up in a weyr... they might not /want/ that." Leova lifts her brows askew at her friend, but that's the closest she gets to following up on Madilla's surprise. And she picks her teeth some more. Just because. "Might not," she does suppose with her. "Would be easier if there were /rules/. 'Want to get weyrmated, this is how you do it.' Some people, it's like they just decided to and that's it, but there was this brownrider... last month? Month before? Red dress and everything, like you said." Madilla has only a rueful shrug for that look, leaving it alone in order to concentrate on answering the rest. "/Did/ she? That's encouraging." A flower petal slides down her hair and onto her shoulder, and she reaches for it, turning it between her fingers before she adds, "It would be easier. Though, again, I suppose it's nice that people can do what they like, whatever tradition says. I don't think I would mind, if my daughters wanted to do something else. As long as they were happy." "And there was cake," Leova says for the encouraging, only then she shuts up to listen: doing what they like. Daughters. Happy. "Two red dresses?" she tests, with a sideways glance that's more amused than her so very idle tone. "Cake!" Madilla, clearly, approves of this. "Though right now, even wedding cake sounds distinctly unappetising. Too much gather food, I imagine." Of two dresses, she merely smiles, shrugs; whatever comes, the implication is, before the conversation continues onto further topics for a time, until, alas, it really is time to head on for home.
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