Logs:Bruise Balm
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| RL Date: 5 May, 2013 |
| Who: Madilla, K'zin, Rasavyth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'zin stops in the infirmary after his encounter with N'ky. Madilla finds out his secrets all too quickly, and K'zin finds out a few of her own. |
| Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: N'ky/Mentions, Mave/Mentions, Alida/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-scened and played via googledocs. Immediately follows Logs: Confrontation and precedes Logs: Shame and embarrassment |
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| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
Why is it that Madilla so often seems to be on duty late at night - does she deliberately takes 'unwanted' shifts just to keep her healers happy? Or perhaps she's not on duty at all, and just fetched by one of those apprentices (who do, after all, have a good idea of those people she'll probably want to treat herself). Whatever the reason for it, the dark-haired healer is the one to approach, a few minutes after K'zin's arrival, and she looks no less troubled than the weyrling as she steps towards him. "K'zin?" Her voice is low, deliberately gentle. "How's the hearing?" Of course, it's Mads. It's not often that K'zin would want to avoid his favorite healer, but when she has an uncanny knack for getting the truth from him by sheer force of his presence and he'd rather not say, it counts as one of the rare occasions. He tries not to show it in his face when he looks up to find her approaching. The look doesn't come out disappointed, in fact, if anything it's mostly apprehensive. It's the look of a little caught with hand in the cookie jar. He forces, with effort, the look to smooth over into something more neutral, a small smile that doesn't touch his eyes settling on his lips. "Healer Madilla," He greets her formally, since they're in her domain and actually doing something official, "Seems to be okay now. Maybe still a little off, but at least I can hear more than just ringing now. The ringing's mostly gone I think. We figured it was better to get checked anyway, just in case. And Ras told Hraedhyth we would." He babbles his answer and then abruptly bites his lower lip. Is he talking a lot? That might be a further tell. « Easy now, my K'zin. » Rasavyth's tenor whispers gently. He hasn't ceased his strong presence in the man's mind since he was awaken by impending sense of danger. « Say what you need to. Answer the questions. Reveal irrelevant details only, enough so she doesn't think you out of the ordinary. Just choose the details carefully and deliver them naturally. » He says, as if it were just that easy. "You can't play around with your hearing," agrees Madilla. "Not that there's much we can do if you have injured it. I could give you an ear-trumpet. Lord Nabol has one; you could start a trend." That? That must be a joke, shown in her expression with the merest twitch of a smile, though that doesn't reach her eyes-- she's looking at him, watchful, if not precisely wary. "I'm going to have a look in your ears, and you're going to tell me the details of what happened," she says, then, as she turns to wash her hands in the nearby basin, her back now to him. "Pfft." K'zin tries for easily cavalier, but comes out sounding a touch nervous. "Give me one? I'll make one. With cool attachments and extra gears and stuff that are just there for show. Lord Nabol will be asking me for one, soon enough. You'll see. Or maybe I'll just avoid alarmed dragons in the future. That might be easier. Might." He stresses the last, since certainly this one was a surprise (though it likely shouldn't have been). He shifts on the cot, so as to give her better access when she returns from cleansing her hands. "Well, I was down at the lake looking for N'ky. Just about the last place I looked, really. And he was there, with Cai, and I kept a distance and called to him, and he wasn't answering. Then finally he said Cai wasn't going to hurt me, and it sounded from the way he was stuttering like he might be hurt, or something, because it didn't sound right. So I ran over, and Cai got spooked I guess and bellowed just as I was coming past her. And then my ears rang." Enough details, but not too many details, and none of the details relevant to the part he's trying to keep quiet. "He's pretty mad, still." « Clever. » Rasavyth croons softly into his lifemate's mind, the sense of pride tingling down K'zin's spine as warmth. « That might well distract her. » Those last words of his so carefully chosen as a seeming afterthought. The padawan is learning. When Madilla does turn back, there's a frown set into her features, though nothing that implies disbelief-- or indeed, any suggestion that she suspects there's more going on. "Poor N'ky," she says, quietly, adjusting the tilt of K'zin's head with both hands before reaching for the conveniently located lamp, which she holds up to give her better light for the examination. "I hope things come right for him, soon." Her words float somewhere over his head as she adds, "I'm sure you'd make a lovely trumpet. I'd still rather you don't need to. I think 'might' might be an understatement, mm? At least you're not bleeding out of your ears." If only she had a hand free, she'd probably squeeze his shoulder or something, right about now. K'zin's head has ended up in Madilla's careful hands so many times before for one reason or another that he doesn't even flinch a bit when she takes hold of his face, and he might as well be a doll for the cooperative nature of his head tilt, keeping it carefully still at just the angle she assigns it. "Me too, it's pretty painful," Under her hands, K'zin's cheeks grow warm as a blush invades. He was doing so well there, too! "To watch I mean. It's painful to watch." The delivery is probably what gives the most away. He panics a little so the words come out too rushed. His eyes, which had been tracking her face as she goes about her work, skitter away in an equally spooked fashion. "Bleeding from my ears would be bad, he agrees quickly, grasping at the distraction, "I feel like that's one body part blood is not supposed to come out of, ever. Not that blood is supposed to come out of most body parts, but that one especially. But avoiding loud dragon noises might be rough. I'm not sure the Weyrlingmasters put enough focus on reminding dragons to use their indoor voices the way nannies do." His tone is thoughtful now, as though in the moments that have passed between his blushing and this one, he's forgotten that the earlier moment ever occurred. Madilla lets go, taking a half-step back that allows her to better study K'zin's expression - especially with her lamp lifted like so. "K'zin," she says, dropping her free hand to her side, though once again it seems to itch to do something - perhaps anything - useful, fingers twitching at her side. Her expression is easy enough to read, and it matches her tone perfectly: she's a mother, and this is her child-caught-with-their-hand-in-the-cookie-jar response. It's well practiced. She's waiting... and she will keep waiting until he comes clean (or doesn't; but oh, can you imagine the awfulness of disappointing Madilla?). Her eyebrows lift. One beat. Two beats. Three. (He can, in fact, imagine it, and if his face is anything to go by, that's exactly what he's doing. Imagining disappointing Madilla and how horrid that would be.) Rasavyth is gentler than he might be on another night, words soft, soothing and gently persuasive. « Hold to your story. She can't prove anything. » K'zin's mind is unreceptive to the persuasion, « Unless she lifts up my shirt. » A hand slides to the bottom edge of the garment in mental question, and he tugs at it, a little further down, expression growing more guilty by the beats that pass. Two get there, and the third has just begun when with a sigh, he caves. He never had a mother around often enough to give him that sort of look; never developed the knack for ignoring it. That hand that had tugged the shirt down now does the opposite. He lifts it up to mid-chest, exposing his abdomen. The whole area is an angry pink from agitation. On one side, there is a large fist-sized blossom of fresh bruising. All of this over the awesome washboard stomach, of course. Under the fresh bruises there older ones - three or four days, smaller circles, one under the new big pretty one. "Don't report it, Mads, please. I don't want Nick getting in trouble. I deserved it." His tone is a mix of sadness and resignedness. A low breath escapes Madilla's mouth, whistling through her teeth; her gaze, dropping to K'zin's bared chest for a moment, very quickly lifts back up towards his face. "No one ever deserves to be hit," she says, quiet, and with a surprising amount of force. He can't know about the domestic violence she's witnessed, in the past; still, perhaps it's not surprising that a healer would take such an exception to violence of any kind. "So don't you dare try and argue that with me, Wakizian. Don't you dare." Abruptly, she has to turn away, then, ostensibly covering her action with a need to set down the lamp, and bustle about in the nearby medicine cupboard, which she opens with one of the keys on her belt. If she's looking away, like this, perhaps he won't see how pale her face is, and how much emotion she's struggling to suppress. K'zin's hand is releasing the shirt and he's popping onto his feet, though the tensing of the muscles to do so does make him wince. The action comes as she turns away because something about her movement and the forcefulness of her reply doesn't seem right. He hesitates, he's thought this not rightness once before tonight, and it didn't go well then. This is different though, this is Madilla. Slowly, he reaches out a hand to lay gently on her shoulder. It's meant to be comforting, a light touch. "Okay. I -- won't." He agrees, "But I did tell him he could. So it's not really his fault, it's mine. I was trying to-- I thought he needed help and I knew he was too mad at me to let me help him, so I told him to punch me or be mad at me later or something, just -- just so I could help him now. I don't know if it helped, but he let me hug him and he cried," All of his words now are hurried and hushed. The infirmary is always quiet, but he doesn't want these words to carry. "I hurt him, Mads. In here." His free hand thumps a fist to his heart, a sound loud enough that she might hear and guess, or perhaps his intention might be to get her to want to turn around. "I didn't mean to, but I did. So I was trying to be-- whatever he needed me to be. Friend or punching bag." There's worry on K'zin's face, deep concern now that he's somehow done the wrong thing again in trying to do the right thing. Madilla's shoulder is stiff beneath K'zin's hand, though the muscles move-- she's busy grabbing for something in the cupboard, using it as a focus for the emotion she's trying to keep from spilling out everywhere. She's silent, maintaining it without obvious reaction throughout most of K'zin's words - and then, finally, she turns, glancing up at him with an expression that is difficult to read. Madilla, who is so understanding of everything, even things she doesn't personally comprehend, can't seem to deal with this. That much is obvious-- it's audible, when she says, quietly, "Violence is never the answer. It doesn't matter how much you hurt him; I don't care. Telling someone to hit you is wrong." The jar in her hand gets thrust towards him: the label, if he examines it, identifies it as bruise balm. "Find a different way to make it up to him." "Okay." K'zin is quick to fold in the face of her obvious disapproval. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry, Mads." Apologizing again. It's one more on top of all the rest in the last few days. One more thing to go wrong, and the expression he has and can't hide is one of heartache, a deep wound from all the wrong he's done while just trying to do the right thing, and bumbling it up so badly. The jar is taken in silence, label read briefly, and he turns to start scuttling out of the exam area. He hasn't gotten two steps before turning to ask meekly, "Mads? Can I have some ice?" For a moment, Madilla's eyes close, as though she's desperately trying to work past her own emotions so that she can focus, instead, on K'zin's. She hasn't missed his expression, certainly, and now, wrapping her arms around herself, she looks - if only for a moment - lost and confused. "Sit down," she says, this time in a quieter tone of voice, quieter and also more sympathetic. "I'll get some for you. I'm sorry." Not that she waits for an answer to that-- it's easier to simply sweep across the infirmary in search of that ice. Maybe by the time she gets back she'll be more composed. K'zin is still standing when Madilla moves past him to go fulfill his request. He can't help but look a little dazed at her reactions and her expressions. Her expressions. They make his stomach knot up and all he wants to do in that moment is fix whatever's causing it, only he doesn't understand what needs to be fixed, or why he feels so strongly about it. It's all just really confusing. Rasavyth's cool humor comes to distract from all the befuddlement, « Perhaps we should have you speak with Mave about re-writing the play. I know it's fairly late in the game, but truthfully, your luck of late seems to be as dismal as that boy's. We could call it 'Lucky are the Lamebrains'. You do know that you had far fewer troubles before I came into your life, because you did far less thinking. » For this, the bronze sounds apologetic. K'zin's mind reaches to now comfort the bronze, « I like it better this way. Thinking. And with you. Even if my luck is bad enough to write a play about. » A grin sneaks onto K'zin's face, but slips right off again as if someone had forgotten to tack it into place. He moves to the cot, sitting back down on it, then stretching out. Why not? It's easier on his stomach muscles to be sure, not to be hunched over. He holds the small container of balm between his hands letting it rest on his sternum, paying heed to the pace of his breath and letting his eyes slip closed until he hears footsteps. It takes Madilla a few minutes. It may even be longer than strictly necessary - it may even be that she's spent a few minutes, in the other room, just to make sure she's composed when she comes back, bucket of ice in hand (in fact, she stands in the workroom for several long minutes, squeezing her hands into fists and staring, unhappily, at the positions where two people once stood, turns ago, to have a conversation that feels far too similar to the one held here and now). Her footsteps sound from a distance, audible despite her efforts to keep quiet. As she steps back in to the cubicle, at least her expression is even again - and her voice, too, when she says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad for trying to help." When he hears her approach, his eyes flicker open. By the time she enters the cubicle, he's pushing himself up into a seated position and then onto his feet by the time she speaks. His lower lip takes a little worried abuse from his teeth before he speaks, brown eyes darting to her face and away. "It's not you that made me feel bad. I just did the wrong thing again. Which isn't really a surprise at this point." K'zin's not being dramatic in this moment; truly, it's sort of worse. He sounds like he's starting to simply accept it as part of the hand he's been dealt in life. "I'm--" He rocks forward onto his toes and then back onto his heels, fingers curled into loose fists at his sides. "I'm sorry I let you down. I wish I'd had a better answer. I will next time, I promise." Probably the most heart-string tugging bit is not the words he says, but the meekness with which they are delivered. He clearly feels awful about letting her down. "No," she says, exhaling. This may turn into a battle of niceness - everyone trying to take responsibility. "I have... it's a long story. I knew someone whose weyrmate hit him. He tried to insist that it was fine, and it... wasn't. To me. That doesn't mean..." She's awkward, in the telling and abruptly, in general: more like the Madilla-that-was, all those turns ago when they first met. "You didn't let me down. You did the very best you could think of, in the circumstances. It's not up to me to judge whether it was the right or wrong thing; I wasn't there. I'm not you, and I'm not N'ky. It was an instinctual reaction, and I'm sorry for that." It's obvious that she doesn't find this easy, not given her expression, and the way she keeps trying to focus her attention on the ice bucket instead of K'zin himself: she has to force her gaze back up, and even moreso, force the smile back into place. "I bet it hurts. Let's see if we can do something to fix it, okay?" K'zin listens, managing to keep his attention on Madilla's face as she offers her explanations. His lips tense, but that's the only outward sign that her story brings him some discomfort. "Mads," He says stepping forward to lay a hand gently on her forearm, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you think that it was-- something like that." Since her story sounds much more like abuse. "I promise I wouldn't let someone do that to me. N'ky-- the thing is, I've been sort of where he is?" His voice rises in question, as though he's not sure that makes sense aloud. "After my parents left, I felt really-- worthless," He shifts his weight uncomfortably. His family is always a difficult topic, and he's never had enough turns between the happening to get this perspective and been able to reflect upon it until now. "And abandoned. It was hard to see anything clearly because I was just feeling so much bad stuff. I kind of did that to him. And Sabs. I abandoned them because I was trying to follow the rules and not get myself in trouble, but then on top of that was what I said to him," As they've discussed already, "And I thought if maybe he could get some of the anger out, we might be able to talk things out sooner. Except I don't think it did anything." He grimaces, "I promised Ras I'd never let it happen again. He was getting very... upset that I was just letting him punch me." There's definite truth in her words about the flesh hurting, so he lets go of her arm and settles back on the cot, laying back and hiking up his shirt, the balm going onto the floor next to the cot. Madilla's nod is an uncomfortable one, but she holds back her words until after K'zin has finished. "I know," she says, gaze following the little pot of balm for a moment, then shifting back towards the weyrling. "I know it wasn't something like that. I know you meant well. And I know all too well how it feels; a lot of it, anyway." Family, certainly. She sets down her ice bucket, wrapping some of it up in a clean dishcloth, all the better to gently rest it upon the worst of the bruises. She reaches, then, to squeeze his hand. "It's cold; I'm sorry. It's-- It's not how I would have handled it, and I hope you don't do something like that again, but I'm proud of you for trying, K'zin. You're supposed to make mistakes - that's how you learn. This whole growing up thing isn't easy. But you'll get there. You're doing well." There's a flinch from K'zin as the cold compress touches the tender flesh, but this is the price of relief so he will gladly pay it. The grip that returns the gentler pressure on his hand is stronger, more insistent, the kind of grip that indicates he wants to be heard; not painful, to be sure, but enough to pull her attention. "Mads, I'm sorry that my actions tonight upset you. I--" His eyes move away from her face to the ceiling, "I don't like it when you're upset, especially if it's because of something I've done, or said." The next squeeze to her fingers is much softer. "I hope I don't do it again. Ever." As unlikely and childish as that hope might be on his part. "Thanks-- thanks for taking care of me," He manages to look back at her now. "Even though it is your job.. I appreciate it a lot, you know?" It helps him to have her here, even if he came in hoping not to see her. Now, finally, Madilla's smile is more certain: this ground is more solid, and less prone to accidental dramatics (at least on her part). "Someone needs to take care of you," she says, meeting his gaze squarely, her tone only vaguely hinting at a tease. "It's obvious that despite your best efforts, you're not quite there on your own yet. But you're getting there. You know I'm here from you. And that-- even if I don't like what you're doing, I'll help you. Always. You don't need to hide things from me. I wish people wouldn't. Not-- just you. People in general." Leaving the ice where it sits, she carefully lowers herself towards the floor, hand still on his-- she grabs for the little jar, bringing it back to sit upon the table next to the cot. "Several someones do take care of me," K'zin's grump is playful, though, not wholly light, but getting there. "It's not Ras' fault that he can't talk me out of things." Which is to say that sometimes, K'zin has a backbone or at least enough stubborn stupidity to get things past the strong-willed dragon. "Or yours, and you take care of me whenever I'm hurt." Now he has to ask, "Were you actually on duty tonight or did they get you when they saw me coming?" He's asked for her sometimes when she's not on duty and been obliged, so it wouldn't come as a surprise to him if she'd been summoned especially for him. How he gets such special treatment would be a good guessing over a pint. Is it his looks? His charm? His appearance of adorable helplessness? The world may never know. "I just didn't want to get N'ky in trouble. It's not like it's going to happen again and he was really upset." Again, the justification, but a warning sensation from Rasavyth quickly has him saying, "Not that that makes it okay. I just wanted to resolve things between us without getting the weyrlingmasters involved and I knew if you knew, it would put you in an awkward position and--" He trails off, the rest is obvious: he didn't want to do that to her either. Easiest just not to say. "I-- won't-- again, if you like, but you have to promise to at least hear my reasons for not having wanted to say, reasonably." If such a thing could be promised. "Have other people been keeping things from you?" This is curious, and touched with concern. There are so many words, and Madilla's mouth keeps opening throughout, like there are things she wants to say - things that she doesn't say. In the end, she settles for simply listening, adjusting the ice pack with one hand, as she withdraws the other from his. "There have been a number of memorable occasions," she says, answering the last question first, her tone edging towards neutral. "But-- for all my complaints, I'm not innocent in that regard, so I shouldn't let it bother me." She doesn't look at him as she says that: she looks rather fixedly at the curtained barrier between this examination room and the next. Glancing back, expression inscrutable, she adds, "You don't need to explain your reasons, K'zin, though you're welcome to, and I'll listen. And to answer your earlier question, I was in my office doing paperwork. Not on duty, but..." Here. On call, as it were, and thus available to people the other healers know she would want to be available to. Exactly why she was here and not with her children, or enjoying any other part of her personal life - well. Who can say. At least there are some times, these days, when she's not even on call to that extent. "People make mistakes. It's in our natures." K'zin's murmur is soft and his look a little distant for a moment, then his eyes rise to regard the healer. "The most any one of us can do is simply do our best, at all times." He falls silent then. His expression is pensive, eyes distractedly going to the ceiling. Then, drawing himself back to the here and now, he tilts his head to look up at her. "Thanks for coming, Mads. I really do appreciate it. I know you probably have a lot of better things to do and better people to be with. And I didn't think I needed to explain. I wanted to. I-- guess I wanted you to understand how I saw things, why I made the decisions I did. I guess I wanted you to know that even if it was ill-advised, it wasn't thoughtless action." Though probably close. "I wanted you to be able to know me, instead of guess. I guess." He doesn't sound very certain of any of this; all of it's confusing to think about and that shows on his face. Of all the things that have changed in K'zin's life as he grows up and becomes an adult, the relationship he has built with the healer has been the most emotionally significant in his life, short of those complicated ones with his estranged family. As he grows and changes, so by necessity does their relationship. But the hows and the what to's are so perplexing, he hasn't even begun to sort them out. He can only say what he knows in this moment. "Does that bruise stuff really work?" Madilla shifts the ice again, though it seems to be mostly a reflective movement - something to keep her hands busy - rather than because there's any particular need for it. "I understand," she says, giving K'zin a smile that is not bright, but still manages to be genuine. "Of course I came. We're friends, aren't we? I was here. There are times when I won't be able to come, but when I can... that's what I do for people I care about. And yes," now, at least, the smile is a little brighter, a little teasing, "of course it works. I made it, and I don't make useless balms. There's some numbweed in there, and some other herbs that should help it all clear up sooner. You'll be fine in a few days or so, I should think." Her presence and willingness to come care for him is given a little nod and appreciative smile, but his mind is already focused on her words about the balm. "Healed up just in time for Mave to beat me up." K'zin's tone is joking, but as soon as that foot taste starts to flavor his palate, he hurries to explain. "We're going to spar. Nothing serious, I promise. It's just that I've been learning techniques from Alida and she's been learning them from -- someone else, and we wanted to see how we fare against another beginner." A blush is rising in his cheeks. "I'm not actually going to get beat up, or do any beating. There won't be any broken noses this time. Did I tell you we ended up friends after all these turns?" Maybe he hadn't mentioned it before, he can't seem to remember. It's true that Madilla's expression turns bewildered almost the moment K'zin starts talking, which is, at least, better than horrified - but she's quick to catch up to where his thoughts are actually going, and to nod. "I won't claim to understand the interest in learning how to hurt another person," she says, managing now to smile, though not broadly. "But if it's something you enjoy, then that's probably a productive way to spend your time. You didn't tell me that. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, though. No accidents, though, all right? No accidental broken noses, or broken arms, or serious bruises. Do I need to give you a bigger pot of that balm, just in case?" "Mave's probably just learning to bust up people who don't pay up on their bets next hatching cycle," K'zin jokes. Or tries to. But he seems to realize almost immediately that this is not a funny joke, and apologizes: "Sorry. I mean, I think it's more about learning how to defend yourself in a fight. For both of us. It's not that I plan to get into fights, it's just that... well, I don't have the best track record for getting broken when punches get thrown. I want to be able to keep myself safe without my dragon busting in to eat people. Not that he would really eat anyone, but-- you know what I meant?" This last is asked uncertainly as his eyes finally seek out Madilla's. "No accidents. I promise. I'll cry uncle before it gets that far." He glances down to the balm jar, and sheepishly nods, "A bigger one mightn't be a bad idea. Alida's not gentle in her teaching methods. I'm getting better though." As if this is supposed to be some kind of reassurance. Madilla bites her lip, but then, abruptly, smiles. "I know what you meant," she confirms. "I think you've probably had enough ice-- why don't you try and apply some of that balm, while I go and find another jar? You can just take two with you, and then you've enough to share if it becomes necessary. I won't be a minute." For the second time during this consultation, she disappears, though at least it doesn't look like she's having to recompose herself, this time. Progress! K'zin is careful when he slides the ice off of himself putting the ice back in the bucket and tucking the towel over top of it. He sits on up, no wince this time, as he's thankfully numb. Picking up the balm, he looks at the label again, but instead of applying it he lets his shirt slide into place and waits for the healers return, ready to ask: "Would it be okay if I took the ice with me and iced again in a little bit before I put the balm on? I wanted to get a bath before bed." No point in putting the balm on just to wipe it off in the bathes. Quicker to return, this time, Madilla offers the second jar of balm to the weyrling as she approaches, and listens to his request with her head tilted partway to the right. "That seems reasonable," she confirms, with a nod. "Do that. If it doesn't start to heal up in another few days, come back, but I think it should all be fine." She gives him what is probably intended to be an encouraging smile, not quite cheerful but certainly affectionate in a rough sense. "You know where to find me if you need anything else, anyway. You'll look after yourself?" "I'll do my best." K'zin confirms, and then there's a slight pause as he rises and collects bucket and jars of balm. "Oh, and Mads? Rasavyth says thank you. For taking care of me." He offers her a smile. "See you on my turnday, if not before." He hasn't forgotten their drink. Less than a sevenday til then, and he looks hopeful, for once, when it comes to his turnday. But saying that are the last words he shares before moving along toward the bathes. "He's welcome," says Madilla, without hesitation. "You both are. I'll see you then - I'm looking forward to it." And that does seem to be the case. It's... a pity, really, that life intends to intervene. CommentsAzaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 06 May 2013 00:12:10 GMT. <
Aw. D: Seeing Madilla that upset just hurts the heart. And K'zin is trying to do good. I'm glad this scene happened, though, and that he's got people looking out for him. K'zin kind of needs it.
I love that as professional as Madilla is, and tries to be, there's still some things that have her reacting by instinct. <3 She cares so much!
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Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 06 May 2013 00:12:10 GMT.
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Aw. D: Seeing Madilla that upset just hurts the heart. And K'zin is trying to do good. I'm glad this scene happened, though, and that he's got people looking out for him. K'zin kind of needs it.
I love that as professional as Madilla is, and tries to be, there's still some things that have her reacting by instinct. <3 She cares so much!
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