Logs:The Freedom To Choose
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| RL Date: 6 April, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, Z'yi |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After all that business with W'chek, Madilla still manages to show up for her dinner with Z'yi. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr / Fort Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions, Gabrion/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'ndro/Mentions, Milani/Mentions, R'uen/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| An emergency in the Infirmary postponed these plans, on that first agreed date, but on the evening of the make-up date, all seems to be going to plan. Madilla waits just outside the Nighthearth at the prescribed time, dressed in what, for her, probably count as fancy clothes: a long, sweeping skirt, a soft blouse, an embroidered bodice. She stares at her toes, somewhat awkward, as she waits, as if she's eager not to catch anyone's eye; she /does/ get a few curious glances by others heading towards the hearth. As she's so studiously considering her feet, she probably doesn't notice Z'yi coming up, though she may hear the crisp bootfalls approaching. His 'dress' wear isn't terribly different from his everyday wear - but his shirt is one of brushed, gleaming linen of High Reaches blue, his boots polished, his riding jacket freshly cleaned. He's shaved, too! "Madilla," rumbling bass has an undeniably pleased note, as if the owner of said voice wasn't exactly sure if the Healer would, you know, actually show up. Z'yi stops, a step away, with that same emotion - something simple, maybe nearing relief? - written into the smile on his face. "I'm sorry for being late," though he's likely not but a minute or two off the mark. Indeed, Madilla doesn't look up until the sound of her name; as she does, though, it's with an equally relieved smile. Good! She's not going to be standing here alone, stupidly. "I don't think you're late, Z'yi," she says, warmly, brightening her smile as she straightens from the wall, holding her hands awkwardly about her sides. "I was early. It's a habit of mine." A bad habit, her words imply, though she doesn't specify. "Better early than late, I fear," Z'yi replies, a wry twist to his tone. "I try my best to be punctual, though... that does not always come to pass, with Isforaith." He doesn't go further with that, feeling it self-evident. He's legendary, isn't he? The giant idiot. "You look very lovely," he comments, striving for some type of gallantry as he offers his arm, a silent 'shall we?' etched into the arch of his brow. "How do you feel about Fort?" Madilla flushes with pleasure at the compliment, accepting Z'yi's arm graciously; she's obviously quite used to such practice. "I understand," she says, of Isforaith, tilting her head up so that she can meet the bluerider's gaze, smiling. "I do remember hearing about your Isforaith. He crashed the clutching party this time around, didn't he?" /That/, at least, got around. She adds, then, having presumably acquiesced to the 'shall we' via her actions thus far, "Fort sounds lovely." There's an easing of subtle tension along broad shoulders - maybe this won't be /terribly/ awkward, after all. Z'yi can't help but smile down at Madilla and her rather unconciously charming blush. "That would be him," drolly stated. He starts an amble towards the exit, unhurried. Besides - being seen with a pretty girl is always a boost to male ego. He's going to live it up! "He liked a few people in the crowd, though the ones he ended up actually picking out... Teris, and.. Gustav, I believe his name is. Yappy thing, would talk someone up one side and down the other. I almost feel bad for the rest of his candidate group," he reflects aloud, with another brief smile downwards. Belated, almost: "I was thinking the Glass Fountain, if you're amenable," his voice now much more relaxed than a few moments prior. Madilla seems rather intent on avoiding the glances sent in their direction, though she doesn't seem bothered by Z'yi's enjoyment of it. He's allowed. "He sounds like quite a character," is her assessment, as they continue onwards. She has to pause and fetch her coat, easily done, but adds, "It sounds as though he's quite the search dragon, then. Though I suppose the proof is in the Impressions. I was... surprised by Teris accepting Search. Gustav-- he /does/ talk a lot. But I like him. I wish them both luck." Not too awkward, thus far; she seems to be relaxing a little, too. "I've never been to the Fountain, though I've heard about it. That would be-- lovely." That last is a little lamely said, as though she's conscious of her repetition, but can't find a better word all the same. "A good word for him," Z'yi comments, regarding Isforaith. "A character." His voice does not dip into dark tones, at least; for the moment, he works at keeping his good mood. "Made me look like an idiot in front of the weyrleaders," admitted a beat after. "I'm not sure. He's Searched... seven. If even one of them Impress, /I'll/ be happy." And not the laughingstock of the weyr! "Though if the only one who does is one of the pair of convicts he searched, Tiriana may kill me," ruefully stated. He refrains from speaking about Teris, skipping that (and Gustav) to advance back to the idea of Fort. "I've been once. It's very beautiful inside, and I've heard that the food is exceptional." Madilla draws her other hand over to rest it, albeit for only a moment or two, on Z'yi's hand. "I'm sure it wasn't /so/ bad, whatever you think. And Search dragons are important. With so many eggs on the sand, the more choice the better." Beat. "I don't quite know what to think about the convict candidates, though they can't be /so/ bad. The ones I've met haven't been. Convicts in general, I mean." She doesn't comment on Tiriana, and seems content enough to leave Teris and Gustav behind. "I've heard good things about it," she says, repeating herself on the topic of the Glass Fountain. "I don't get a great many opportunities to get out of the weyr, these days; it's lovely to have the chance." Beam. "I think it is always more mortifying," Z'yi starts, tone thoughtful, "--to be the one standing /next/ to the thing doing the embarassing action, well-associated with said person.. than the person themselves. I'm not entirely sure why." His grin continues that rueful note, gaze focusing at the touch of his hand; thus, his grin loses some of the rueful quality. "I think that some of the non-convict candidates are actually worse than the ones who are," he absently comments, navigating the caverns towards the door with the ease of a big man used to the sea of people parting for him. "Not Gabrion, of course, but a few of the others..." There's an odd look on his face for that. "Well, I'm most happy to oblige getting you out, then." His smile is just that- happy, simple enough, and perhaps surprisingly so. He holds open the door for her; "Shall we?" "Let's," says Madilla, shivering a little as the cold of outdoors hits her, though at least, with her coat, she's not /that/ exposed. She takes the first step outdoors, adding, "I hope Gabrion's going all right. I know-- well, his mother never did want him to Stand. I don't know all that many of the others." Returning the smile with one of her own, she continues, over the crunching of snow under foot, "It's awful, being mortified like that, and not having any control over it. Does he do that kind of thing so very much, your lifemate?" "Here," Z'yi states, without pause after seeing that shiver-- he shucks out of his heavy riding jacket and moves to drape it over her shoulders, should she not immediately refuse the gesture. "I have my spare with Isforaith." Plus, the cold doesn't seem to bother him too much, all things considered. "Oh, she didn't? I wasn't-- involved, in any of that. I'm afraid I don't know too much about the boy, other than the fact that he seems easy enough to like." His tone is distracted there at the end, as the oaf in question comes half-limping into view - with this cold, Raith favors his 'maimed' paw more, careful to not put too much weight on it. Blue head pokes down, whuffling at Madilla in sudden eagerness. "No. Ab-so-lute-ly. Not." Speaking of mortification. "I'm sorry. To answer your question - yes, he does." Like now, with the blue obviously put-off at not being able to trip all over himself in front of the Healer. Madilla looks surprised, but gratified, and doesn't object to the additional warmth of the jacket, carefully drawing it closed around her. It swims on her, of course, but that's all the better: more warmth! "She's very protective," she explains, of Gabrion's mother, though anything more she intended to say gets put on pause as Isforaith approaches. She's obviously not frightened by him, but her eyebrows raise; nontheless, she greets him politely. "Good evening, Isforaith. Honestly, there's no need to apologise, Z'yi-- I don't mind. I'm sorry that it's embarrassing for you, though." Z'yi doesn't tell Madilla what Isforaith was /really/ zooming in for. "Protective? I can understand. He's not that old, after all. Or is he?" Maybe it's just the shortness that confused Z'yi! Who knows. He spends a moment getting his spare - a much more battered thing of homely brown leather, well-scuffed, but obviously warm with fleece lining - and shrugging into it. Raith rumbles a greeting, and lowers his head to again whuffle at Madilla, big eyes whirling a contented blue-green. "It tends to be more embarassing when there are some two hundred people around," Isz comments, then, seemingly more at ease with the circumstance. Must be the fact that she seems less like to freak out that some of his past encounters. "Let me tighten his straps, and we'll be ready to go." Madilla reaches out a hand towards Isforaith, obviously intending to scratch at his eyeridge-- though she casts a glance towards Z'yi first, apparently wanting to make sure that she's allowed, first. "He's fifteen," she agrees. "And I think there was another brother? Who died. So I can understand, even though I think it's quite frustrating for Gabrion." She doesn't seem to be in much rush; her head bobs lightly, contentedly, at his last comment. Isforaith is pleased with this, angling his head as to make it so that the healer does not need over-stretch herself. Z'yi fiddles with the big buckles, tossing a brief, distracted smile to her... though it fades. "Oh, that's... regrettable." Regarding Gabrion's deceased brother, to be sure; "I can only imagine what an impact that would have on a mother." Straps apparently tight enough for his liking, the bluerider moves back towards the front of his lifemate, slapping a palm against dark shoulder as he ducks under Raith's neck. "Gabrion got his way, though. So I suppose everything worked out just fine." Z'yi busies himself with rubbing an invisible spot off of Raith's jaw, then turns his eyes back to Madilla. "You ready?" He's not hurried, either - just checking, seems like. Evidently considering this to be a go ahead, Madilla gives Isforaith's eyeridges a good scratch for a few moments, clearly amused at the way he angles in like that. Nonetheless, her expression is serious again as she says, "Yes. It must be /awful/ for his mother; I can't imagine." She draws her hand back down as Z'yi lifts his own hand to rub at the blue's head, nodding rapidly: "Absolutely, yes. To Fort, then!" "Certainly." Z'yi's expression is most amused, his stance relaxed. "He says thank you, by the way." For the scratches! Isforaith maneuvers himself lower to the ground to aid mounting up - and by the look on Z'yi's face, this in itself is humorous. Something unusual, at any rate. He's quick to aid Madilla in any way, should she need assistance getting up on the ridiculously tall blue, though he's careful to keep his hands very proper. Once both are settled and buckled, Raith takes to the air - a surprisingly graceful thing, given his awkward bearings on-ground. The cold of ::between:: is enough to shock even beyond the weather of High Reaches, though soon enough over, and the lanky blue spirals a lazy curve down to the Fort bowl, landing with an only slightly bumpy landing. "You okay?" Z'yi questions upwards to Madilla, unstrapping himself with motions quick from experience. "He's quite welcome," is Madilla's cheerful response, her head tipping towards the blue for a moment to confirm the remark. She obviously appreciates Isforaith's efforts to make mounting easier - and Z'yi's for that matter - though it's obvious she's had /some/ experience at this before. As they land, the healer having been quite calm throughout the admittedly quite short trip, she promises, "Perfectly, thank you. He's-- smoother than I would have thought." She's even capable of unstrapping herself, albeit more slowly than Z'yi does; once this is done, she gives the Fort bowl a good, appraising glance, but makes no particular comment on it. It would make sense, of course, for Madilla to have experience with all this. Z'yi's just too stupid (or not-thinking in the moment) to put two plus two together. "He's learned quite a bit from being in Snowdrift - our wingleader demands a fair bit more precision than Raith would care about by himself." Z'yi shoulders out of his spare jacket before moving to land in the bowl proper. His assessment of the bowl is similar to Madilla's, if a bit more.. wary. He's heard about how crazy Fort is. First in everything, even insanity, right? "Plus," Z'yi feels obliged to admit, "They put us on elevator duty while my shoulder was healing, so he's had quite a bit of practice on his take-offs and landings in the past few months." Madilla follows Z'yi down to the bowl - carefully, making sure her skirts stay appropriately modest, her legs covered - as she says, "Ah, of course. I imagine that would help quite a bit-- I'm sure I've said it before, but it must be /wonderful/ to be back on full duty." Once safely on the ground, she smoothes her skirts down again, then adds, to Isforaith, "Thank you for the ride, Isforaith," before tipping her head up towards Z'yi expectantly: lead on! "It certainly is," Z'yi mildly comments to being back in active duty. Isforaith has his own rumbled approximation of your-welcome to direct at the girl, while Z'yi does just that, leading on to the Fountain itself. Minding his manners, he holds the door for Madilla, though his eyes shade inside with indiscriminate interest. Hey, it's pretty! He certainly likes pretty things, bruiser or not. "Wow," is his own soft comment, eyebrows a tad higher than normal - this is a bit more upscale than the Snowasis, that's for sure. "I forgot how..." Shiny! "...it looked in here." Madilla murmurs a soft thank-you for the opening of the door, drawing off her borrowed jacket and own coat as they re-enter the warmth. She doesn't seem any less entranced by the Fountain; her eyes go wide, her jaw dropping slightly. "It's beautiful," she agrees, fervently. "I don't tend to spend much time in the Snowasis, but-- it's nothing like /this/." That's audible appreciation, right there. Good choice to impress the girl, Z'yi! There's a momentary beam at Madilla's response to the Fountain - that was pretty much worth it, right there! "You said it," Z'yi agrees wholeheartedly with the comparison. There's a brief glance-over the area, and he questions, "Would you like to sit near the fountain or in the back?" His smile is rather genuine - his face is going to hurt, at this rate, with all these unusual facial expressions! - as he makes a flourish towards the fountain itself, as if she could miss it. It takes Madilla a couple of moments of consideration before she declares, brightly, "Near the fountain, I think? It's such a-- stunning piece of work." The awe hasn't quite faded from her expression yet, or her voice; she probably looks like quite the country cousin at this moment, eyes shining as much as they are. Still! She's happy. "There's a table just there-- that one will do, I think." She'll even lead the way there, taking charge - sort of - for once, piling up her outer clothes on the back of the chair before she sits. Z'yi is more than happy to follow, looking quite pleased with it all. And himself. Can't forget that part. The bluerider takes his seat across from Madilla, turning his head to appraise the fountain close-up. "It really is, isn't it?" he comments, not quite entirely immune to the admiration the fountain evokes. He's not that jaded. ... Yet. He examines the small menu, next, his eyebrows raising with true surprise, now. "Braised lamb with rosemary-burgandy reduction," he quotes. "I'm not entirely sure what that is, to be honest." A boyish grin: "Again, a bit different from a dinner of meatrolls and mashed tubers, isn't it?" Okay, so maybe Madilla's infecting him. "I've never seen anything like it," admits Madilla, with a smile that is, perhaps, a little self-conscious. She picks up her own menu, as she adds, "I have a feeling I'm going to be hopelessly out of my depth... what's a reduction? Well. I know what a reduction is, just... not in a food context. Never mind; I suppose we'll find out?" At least she's amused by it, and not /too/ intimidated. /His/ smiles, at any rate, only seem to make hers all the more pronounced. Making up for a fairly awful afternoon, no doubt. "Something tasty, I hope," Z'yi absentminded comments, reading the rest of the daily offerings with almost a morbid curiosity. "I'm not sure how I feel about rosemary, though. I think it was in that Fara--ah, interesting concoction your fellow Healers made me drink during my recovery." Now it's Z'yi's turn to look - well, not really /pink/, but certainly colored a bit more than usual. Striving to recover, "The herdbeast steak sounds like a safe choice." He doesn't add that he's not exactly sure what a 'shallot' is, but he thinks it sounds like a small house. Maybe? Madilla, though, looks more amused than offended at the word-that-didn't-get-said, her lips twitching in unconcealed mirth, though she manages to avoid outright laughter. She's heard worse - even just this very day. "Rosemary is one of my favourites," she admits. "Lavender is better-- but not for food. I can understand not wanting to be reminded, though. Some of our concoctions aren't... all that tasty. I think I'll go with the lamb, though you're right, the heardbeast steak could be lovely, too." Shallots and all, which don't get mentioned by the healer, either. Decisions made, she glances around, apparently intent on working out whether they wait for a waiter, or head to the bar to order. "Do we-- wait for them to come to us?" "I... think so?" Z'yi tracks the progress of a waiter through the Fountain, holding a platter filled with steaming plates of food to an out-of-the-way corner. "Perhaps I should just go the bar," he comments, as said waiter doesn't seem at all likely to come over. "What would you like to dr--" Once again, a word is interrupted; this time, at least, not by Z'yi himself. A waitress, dressed in Fort colors in conservative cut and style. Z'yi quirks an eyebrow at Dilly-- his expression says it all: she must have magic waiter-summoning powers! Ahem. "What can I get for you guys tonight?" the young woman questions, glancing between the two. Z'yi flourishes towards Madilla, in reply, accompanied by a lightly-stated "Ladies first." Of all the superpowers to have, it's kind of a pathetic one. But useful, apparently; Madilla gives Z'yi a rueful little smile, then turns her attention to the waitress, to whom she reads out the name of the dish she's after. At least there are no hard-to-pronounce words in there - there's something to be said for worlds with only a single language. Of course, even having ordered her meal without any problems, the healer falters over a drink. It's that awkward, age-old question: alcohol? No alcohol? Maybe it's the kind of day she's had, but she evidently decides on the more risky of the options: "And a glass of white wine, please?" There's a ducked glance towards Z'yi, as though she's making sure he's not going to be utterly offended by this. Z'yi has only a smile for that, at the end; "Make it a nice one, not just the house, would you?" he tacks on to Madilla's drink order. He, himself, orders the steak and potatoes - though it may be noticed that they are /fancy/ potatoes - accompanied by a light ale of Fort's local brewery. "And water, for both of us, please!" he calls out after the retreating waitress, though it's anyone's guess whether she hears him or not. The hard part done, he relaxes back in his chair. "I'm not as brave as you are," he comments to Madilla, tone a bit cheeky. "Wine gives me terrible headaches after a glass or two." "Does it?" Madilla turns a little pink, but at least she's not the only one drinking; that would be /really/ embarrassing. "I don't drink it often... I don't drink much of anything often, to be honest. But I don't mind it." That seems to be the extent of what she has to say on the subject, and it leaves her a little awkward; she gives him a rueful little smile as if to say 'so...'. And here's the part that Z'yi was /worried/ about. Because after, "Yeah, for some reason. I'm not entirely sure - I can drink straight whiskey without much problems, and be laid up for the entirety of one morning from two glasses of wine," comes this slight pause. Okay, more than slight. Her smile coaxes one out of him in return. "Madilla," he starts up, something impulsive in his tone -- "I must admit to knowing, ah, very little about you. But you seem like a ver--" Of course, here he's interrupted by the waitress returning with a tray carrying tall glasses of ice water, a pretty glass of pale wine for Madilla, and Z'yi's mug of ale. The bluerider quiets as drinks are settled down, comments his thanks, and focuses on his water-glass for the time being, fiddling with the base. "You seem like a very well-grounded person," he comments, dark eyes darting a glance back upwards to her face. Madilla more or less freezes as Z'yi starts up that impulsive remark, and the return of the waitress only makes that somewhat worse, her gaze slipping from the bluerider to the waitress, then back again, finally, when the woman leaves. Her fingers reach for the stem of her glass probably as something to do with them, rather than an actual need to drink; in the end, she doesn't get further than raising the glass towards her mouth before she has to say, "I suppose so? I try to be. What... what is this all about, Z'yi?" All this, not just the question at hand. Z'yi seems somewhat resigned at this. Yeah. He sort of figured this was coming, too. So, after a fortifying gulp of ale - which turns out to drain a considerable amount from his mug - he focuses a rather, er, earnest look on Madilla. It may or may not be frightening, coming from the typically somewhat-jaded bluerider. "Madilla, I don't presume to know your circumstance. I don't presume to know your life. I do know... to the best of my ability, that you are a good person, and I don't want to see you in a situation wherein you think you have no options." There is a certain thoughtful intent to his face, at this point. "I would like to help you, even if.. it's only giving you the freedom to choose." He ends up a bit off, a bit lamely, as he's not entirely sure how she's going to take this whole... speech. As Z'yi speaks, Madilla listens, her expression unreadable. The wine eventually gets set back down on the table, still untouched, and instead, she folds her hands in front of her. Finally, as she speaks, she starts to let her emotions show through: she looks /tired/. "I think I may never understand it," she says, shaking her head. "Men offering to be the fathers of children with a woman they barely know-- that is what you're suggesting, isn't it? You've been talking to... Gabrion? Someone like that. Who convinced you that I need more options." It's actually a surprising amount of insight for Madilla, who tends usually towards missing what else is going on. She afixes her gaze on the bluerider, tells him, quietly, and somehow, sadly, "Which isn't to say I don't appreciate the offer." Dismay. Quiet dismay, but dismay nonetheless: it touches Z'yi's features for a long moment, as Madilla quietly goes on. "Not just that, Madilla," he states, after a moment, a certain frustration underscoring his voice. "Do you know.. I'm twenty six. I've done absolutely nothing with my life, other than Impress Isforaith, and I can't help but think that if Emilly had looked me over that day... picked someone other than myself to Search, that someone else would be tending to him. The closest thing I've had to a relationship ended up sleeping with the man who hates me more than the day is long.. and the closest thing since that has been his sister, who I'm fairly certain would kill me in my sleep if given half a reason." There's a short laugh, infused with self-directed scorn -- then big hands are displayed for the healer, scarred from turns of work, fingers splayed. "I've done nothing with my life. If I could help you with yours, maybe that would actually mean something." There's sarcasm, at the end, dark at that. It's batted away just as quickly as it rose up, with an apology: "I'm sorry, Madilla, if I've offended you. It certainly wasn't my intent." Despite her initial reaction, there's no doubt that Madilla listens just as intently to the rest of what Z'yi has to say, and she's visibly surprised by the contents of it: though there's still sadness in her gaze, it seems more focused now, perhaps even on the bluerider himself. "You haven't offended me," she says, finally, in a soft voice, and as she does so, she reaches out one hand with the evident intent of attempting to take one of those scarred ones within it. "I'm not--" Pause. "As easily offended as people seem to think." There's almost a note of humour in that, wry and quiet. "I'm actually flattered, that you think helping me would-- mean something. I think I just-- I just always saw myself with a traditional family unit, and even though I know things are different, it still all feels..." She has to think of the word, frowning thoughtfully. "Mercenary? Not the kind of thing small girls dream about." Z'yi offers little resistance to Madilla's reach, offering his hand to her after a moment. "No... I don't suppose you would be," he comments, more to himself than actually in response to the thought of her being not too easily offended. Z'yi's silent for a moment, digesting her words and giving them a certain measure of thought before he responds. "You could still have that," he states, his tone gentle. "I'm not sure... if I could offer that. Or if any dragonrider could, to a certain measure." A natural break, as he strives for correct words, then, "I mean to say, it doesn't /have/ to be different. I'm sure there are men out there that- would be exactly what you're looking for." Madilla takes the hand, then, and squeezes it, though she doesn't let it linger for too long before drawing it back to the table in front of her. "Not in a weyr, as I've found," says Madilla, finally, answering the last of Z'yi's remarks before anything else. "Not that are interested in me, at least. And I understand it: I don't /mind/. Not in the end. I don't know that I'd want what I would have had, had I never gone to the Hall." Which is a complicated way of putting it, and even she doesn't seem to quite be able to explain what she means by it. "But the lack of that makes things complicated. I'm... not used to it. To having to think about it." "So you don't..." Z'yi retracts his hand, considers a moment. "You've never thought about going back?" He glances up in time to see the waitress maneuvering towards their table, settling down the plated lamb in front of Madilla - which looks really freaking good, apparently, the way that Z'yi stares at it for a moment - and Isz's steak in front of him. He thanks the waitress, again, and lifts a fork to spear one of the thinly-sliced potatoes. "Or elsewhere. Somewhere that isn't a weyr, filled with--" /This/ takes a moment, and he eventually settles on, "Family-less freaks?" There is a certain humor to the question, however, and not the dark-undertoned sardony from a few minutes prior. "No," says Madilla, rather quickly and with a certain amount of force. She seems pretty impressed with her own food, barely managing to thank the waitress herself-- which she does blushingly, and apologetic. "To all of that. I can't go home: I'm ruined, I suppose you'd call it, as far as my family are concerned. I don't even really visit much, anymore... my Uncle seems to think I will inflict my corrupted values on the rest of the family." That seems to make her genuinely sad, and is an admission that obviously takes some effort to get out. "Beyond that... I go where I'm posted. But the weyr is home, now. I have to adapt to it." She reaches for her knife and fork, carefully cutting into her food, inspecting the beautifully cooked meat. Excuse the rather spectacular incredulousness obvious on blunt features, but, "Your /corrupted values/?" This actually stays Z'yi's fork for the time being, his non-comprehending stare focused on Madilla. A moment longer than is proper, he finally realizes he's staring, and hastily lifts the bite to his mouth, though it's chewed without really indulging the taste. He turns his attention to cutting his steak, cautiously tasting the sauce it's served with. "I'm sorry." He apologizes a lot to Madilla, doesn't he. "It just seems so... preposterous. I mean, you're not frequenting bronzeriders' weyrs, as I understand it, or caught playing drunk strip poker with Glacier, or..." Er. He shuts up, now, busying himself with shoving a piece of steak in his mouth to presumably eat. Or maybe just keep him from saying ridiculous things. Madilla's smile is wry, and more than a little self-conscious. "My family is," crazily conservative? Kind of nuts? "not used to women who have careers, and spend time with dragonriders, and-- don't have a man to guide them. I'm afraid they didn't quite think through the sending me to the Healer Hall." She manages to start eating this time, and obviously enjoys it, though most of her attention is on the conversation in progress. "Even having seen other walks of life, I think, has given me perspectives they don't appreciate. I wish I could see my mother more often, but--" She gives a little shrug. She'll abide by the feelings of her family. Presumably the male members of the family. "I see." It's entirely obvious that Z'yi doesn't, liberal-minded weyrbred he is- the idea of a man in charge is slightly a foreign one, as weyrleaders may change but weyrwomen are forever. Like diamonds, but with worse tempers. "Well, I can understand missing family. I've only recently come back into contact with my father, myself. My mother passed, a few turns ago," he states by-way of explanation for that side. "Sometimes it's not entirely... graceful," for lack of better word - regarding his father, probably. "He was never there, when I was growing up, so it's an interesting dynamic, I suppose." "No, you don't," says Madilla, with some wry laughter. "Sometimes it feels as though W'chek is the only person who /does/-- and even so, I think I've adapted far more than he has. He still calls himself a deviant." He had to come up eventually, didn't he? And she frowns, too, as though reflecting on something, though whatever it is, she doesn't put it into words. "I'm sorry about your mother. That must be hard. Particularly... if your father wasn't there. It's nice that he is now, I suppose?" Beat. She pauses, fork partway to her mouth, and then asks, carefully, as though she's not quite sure she ought to be asking at all, "Would you be there? If you had children." Aaaaand there comes up the reference that Isz was hoping to avoid! Oh, well. Must have. "Well, with the similar backgrounds, I'm sure that... that makes sense," Z'yi states, after a moment of thought. It's obvious he means it. He pokes a piece of asparagus with his fork, has it halfway to his mouth as Madilla mentions his own father. "My mother was my rock, when I was growing up," he starts, and the fork starts to lower rather than continue. "But... there was always something missing, I suppose. She was trying to do a job that is naturally filled by two people. I've.. I've told you before, my views on children, Madilla. It's a commitment deeper than marriage. Or so I think." Big shoulders shrug, and asparagus once more rises towards it's impending doom. "I don't take my responsibilites lightly, and that would be one of the gravest responsibilities of my life." Damn, is his wordy tonight. Must be Dilly's calming effect on him. Or something. "So... Yes." And then, finally, he's chewing. Instead of talking. (It's a miracle!) "You two don't get along," says Madilla, and it's definitely not a question. "Which--" A deep breath; then, she shakes her head. "I don't know. I-- well. I suppose it doesn't matter." Whatever she was going to say. She's silent for several long seconds after that, presumably as she works out how to respond to his answer to her question. She fills the time with chewing and swallowing, and then cutting another piece from her meat. Finally; "I wanted to be sure." Her voice is very quiet. "I do agree with you. I don't-- I /would/ do it on my own, if that's what it took to have a baby. But I think it's important for a child to have a-- family. Two parents. More, if that's how it works, but two, at least." "No, we don't." Z'yi states it simply, and seems rather content to leave it at that. He even goes as far to say, "Madilla, I know you think highly of W'chek, and I don't want you to think any less of me for speaking my opinion of him, so I'd rather not talk about him." Because he /has/ given that thought, apparently. He works on chewing on a piece of steak as she talks at the end, and quietly considers his plate a moment before speaking. "I don't disagree with you." He's already been verbose. Now he's going to be quiet, though his silence isn't necessarily awkward - more introspective, by the look on his face. Madilla looks torn-- utterly uncomfortable. What she says in the end is, simply, "No. It's-- I'm not so sure at the moment. I don't know where he and I stand anymore anyway. But no, let's not talk about him. I don't want--" That. Whatever that is. She turns her attention back to her food instead, lowering her gaze towards it instead of looking at the bluerider for several bites. That's something they can /both/ do. "I know you don't," she says, finally, glancing upwards. "I do see that. And-- I do appreciate it. It, and your... offer. I just don't know where things are at the moment, and how I feel. I'm flattered, though, that you would consider such a long-term endeavour with me." Z'yi flashes Madilla a sudden, bright smile for her end comment. It's boyish, entirely lopsided in execution. "Well, I can tell you I wouldn't even think of anything like this if you were, say, Tiriana." Amusement is evident in dark eyes for a few moments, before he's looking back down to his plate, finishing up the last few bites of his steak with that same streak of light-hearted amusement showing in the lines of his face. Apparently, Z'yi's the type that doesn't need anyone else to laugh at his jokes. He has himself! But Madilla does laugh - or, at least, smiles in amusement, amusement that actually reaches her eyes, and not just the corners of her mouth. "The Weyrwoman being pregnant is enough to terrify most normal people," she agrees, that amusement limning her tone, too. "But being /involved/-- you'd have to be a particularly brave person." Beat. Hurriedly; "Which isn't to say that you're /not/, of course, but... R'uen must be a very patient man." Nonetheless, she seems more affectionate for the weyrwoman than disapproving. "If nothing else, I am glad to get to know you better," she adds, as she scoops up the last of her vegetables. "R'uen has the patience of..." A saint? Damned Pern for not having religion in times like this! "...a draybeast handler. Not to say that Tiriana is a draybeast. Maybe stubborn as one?" Z'yi chews on his last piece of roasted tuber, seems to consider this for a minute. He, too, seems rather fond of the stubborn ass in question. "Me too." At the last, of course. "You're very pleasant company," he tacks on, with another, smaller, bemused smile. No doubt he's thinking about taking Teris to dinner, and maybe getting his hand stabbed by a fork... but he's not about to compare the two. At least, to Madilla's face. Madilla, at least, would be more likely to be amused than anything else, at the comparison to Teris; as it is, she looks pleased for the compliment, and for the rest? "At /least/ as stubborn as one. I suppose it pays off, though: I do think she has the best interests of the weyr at heart." And not knowing about, oh, for example, the Weyrwoman pissing off half of the High Reaches Hold area, well, that's an easier thing to say. Her meal finished - right down to the last crumb, well-bred girl that she is - she concentrates on her wine, taking careful sips in between comments as she adds, "It truly is a weyr full of /interesting/ people, isn't it?" "That's a good way to put it," Z'yi agrees to both Tiriana and the weyr in general. "We're a..." He searches, a rather long pause full of searching, for a word. "A melting-pot? I believe that's the term used. Maybe." A brow furrows, then he's waving it off. "My da would know. Where so many different people from so many different backgrounds come together, and how they all.. have to find common ground." He polishes off his last vegetable, himself, and settles the plate to the side to nurse his ale in contemplation. "I mean, just look at the Healers. Very diverse group, I think. Aren't you all?" He seems interested in the answer, dark eyes focusing in on Madilla with curiosity. Whether or not it is the term that gets used, Madilla nods quickly, marking clearly that she understands the concept of the analogy. She slides her wine glass from one hand to the other, then lifts it back towards her mouth for another quick sip. Then; "I suppose we are, yes. Gabrion and I. Delifa. Syef. Some of the others... almost entirely, the only thing we have in common is our craft. And yet, I suspect we form quite a cohesive group - certainly, we're different again, as a group, from the Healer Hall itself, which tends towards... conservatism, I suppose, at least in weyr terms. And yet, healers don't have quite the same differences as riders, for example, who come from all walks of life, and all different-- practices? All you have in common is your dragons. As a whole." There is a type of fascination for the subject at hand, a captive interest. "I think everything is more conservative, in weyr terms," Z'yi offers with a wry smile. "Which is odd, to me, because-- weyrbred, you know? But after living with people from different backgrounds," with a quick nod regarding dragonriders in general, "Things start to seem more natural, that once seemed... so odd. Things that you never thought that you'd ever be okay with, suddenly you're much less against because these people *live* that way, grew up that way." If that makes any sense whatsoever. Z'yi seems to realize he's been rambling, and shuts up with a rueful expression. It does seem to make sense - either that, or Madilla just nods a lot because she /can/. "I found everything very... foreign, when I arrived at the Hall, and again, when I came to the Weyr. How could people really see the world like that? But you do adjust - you have to. Or--" Or you become W'chek. But she's not actually going to say that. She sets down her wine glass, and looks thoughtful. "It's been strange. There are things-- if the Hall knew, they'd probably be very angry with Delifa, and I suppose all of the Journeymen at High Reaches. And yet, it seems natural enough, and normal, at the weyr." "I can imagine." Z'yi contemplates the culture shock going from hold to Hall to Weyr, and shakes his head. "You all have adapted, though. Or, at least, I think so. I don't see very many people running screaming away from the weyr, hollering about how horribly sick and twisted we are." No, they just ride bronze dragons and speak of the deviants. "Angry?" Picking up that thread of conversation, Z'yi taps a blunt finger against the table, as if puzzling over something. "You're right, though. You have to adapt, and your-- main hall, I suppose you'd call it?-- probably wouldn't understand that fundament without living it. Things that work here wouldn't work there, and vice versa, right?" Madilla's lips curl into a twisted half-smile at this concept of horribly sick and twisted weyr-folk; she shakes her head. Her answer, though, relates more to the rest of what the bluerider says. "That's right. Things that work in a crafthall full of apprentices aren't quite so-- workable, in a weyr situation. Posted Apprentices have more responsibility, for example, and live with people who have much more freedom than they do." She twists her hands together, briefly awkward, before she adds, "There are things that they get away with, therefore, that... the Hall would be upset with, I think. But it's just... it is what it is. You have to trust your representatives to make the best decision for the situation." Z'yi cannot see any way to improve Madilla's comments, and thus finds himself nodding along like a bobblehead doll. "That sounds perfectly reasonable, I'd think. Not sure if they'd agree with you, of course, but you seem to have a better grasp on the situation that most, I'd reckon." Z'yi's smile is quiet, but genuine, and he falls into another of his more-typical silences, shifting from his ale to his water glass, lounging back again in his chair. "I imagine it's somewhat of the same with wings and the leadership, though... of course, since we're all in the same location, not quite so much... autonomy." "But very close to the same, nonetheless," puts in Madilla, nodding fast. "You still have to trust the Wingleaders to know what's best for their group of people - because a Weyrleader can't know everyone. Or know everything." She looks pleased, somehow, with all of this. "I suppose i'm a little unusual, having lived three different walks of life, as it were. Hold, Craft, Weyr." She breaks off, then adds, "But anyone can gain perspective, I think. I won't claim to understand everything." "Yes," Z'yi agrees, with a smile. She gets it! He's not going crazy! "You are certainly unique. I've never had any experience away from the weyr, myself," he admits, unfazed despite the fact that he's admitting less experience than a young woman most of a decade his junior. "Other than interactions with holders, and crafters, but I'm quite sure that it's not the same at all, as actually /living/ it." More smiles. Madilla does a lot of that, at the moment. Tonight, anyway. "No, it probably isn't, really. But-- we can't all move around and change like that. At least you've had the experience of /working/ with people who've a different life experience to yours. I find... it's one of the things I find sad about Hold life. So many of them never, ever see anything different. How can they know any better?" Beat. Then, hastily, "Not that their way of life is /wrong/, of course." Of course. "No, it's not at all," Z'yi states, and honestly seems to believe it. "Without that... counterweight, I have no doubt that weyr doctrine would become too ridiculously far-sweeping, and... it just wouldn't work in a different setting." The big man squints to Madilla a moment, as if tempted to say something - or ask something - but he seems to think better of it, and ends up simply sipping at his glass of water. "Balance," agrees Madilla, firmly, spreading her hands flat on the edge of the table. Being squinted at raises her eyebrows: the look genuinely seems to encourage the asking or remarking that's put off, but she doesn't press it. She never does. "There have to be places in society for all walks of life, I think. And so that-- differences are allowed to emerge. Diversity is important." I believe we've solved all the problems of the world," Z'yi quips, his tone mild, at the end of her comments. "Or, at least, discovered the roots of most of them." He toys, idly, with his mostly-finished glass of ale, that same thoughtful silence as a cloak about him. Such a grand conversationalist, isn't he? That makes Madilla laugh outright, as she reaches for her wine glass again, finishing the contents in a quick sip. "If only actually solving them were quick that simple," she muses, as she regains her composure, the smile still broad on her face. She watches Z'yi, thoughtful again, though if there's something specific on her mind, she doesn't voice it. "I suppose that's just the way the world goes. The best we can do is... do what we do the best we can. Something meaningful." It's hard to know if it's a conscious or unconscious link back to his earlier comment. "If solving them were that easy, we'd have no problems to pore over," Z'yi's voice more of a murmur than a statement, musing over it even as the words leave his mouth. He doesn't shy away from that look, his own a steady one of contemplation. "So few things count as meaningful, these days. I thought wing drills were meaningful, when I was injured, and now that I'm back, I can't say... I can't say that I think them all that important, anymore." Wryness tinges Madilla's expression; "Maybe so," she agrees, after a moment. But it's thoughtfulness that maintains the most hold over her face-- and leaves her silent for a few moments after that before she can say, "I suppose that-- with no Thread, not in this lifetime and not even for our children or our children's children, probably... it must be strange. But your wing is less focused on traditional drills, isn't it? From what I've heard. Search and rescue and-- things like that. That must be a little better, surely? A practical purpose?" "Yes," Z'yi confirms. "We at least... well, it feels less like wasting time, at the minimum," the bluerider comments. "It's a good group. We all look after one another. Isforaith and I have learned quite a bit, too." A light laugh, then, "Anything that can keep him interested and challenged makes me like easier. I'm not sure exactly how life would be, for us, if we were in a traditional wing." "It does seem..." and Madilla hesitates, conscious, perhaps, of not having too many opinions on subjects she doesn't have much experience with. She continues, though: "That all that drilling, the traditional drilling I mean, isn't... quite so necessary. I suppose the skills need to be kept alive, but-- I suppose that's why the Weyrleaders were trying things like that farming project. To keep people busy?" She pauses, glancing at her empty plate for a long moment before she adds, "It seems a strange life to go into, in an Interval. Many advantages, I'm sure, but no /purpose/." It makes her frown. "If you could do anything in the world, in addition to being a rider, what would you do?" /This/, now, takes some thought. The bluerider stops all pretenses of fooling with his drink, instead staring off at a point just beyond Madilla's left shoulder. His eyes aren't quite unfocused-- and then, abruptly, he laughs. "Sorry. Isforaith says that he'd like me to go back to working with runners - at least he'd always have a meal." The big man shakes his head a moment. "I'd likely be just fine as a llama herder, up in the northern wastes. Isforaith and I, a little herd. Us against nature. I know it would suit him well, being a loner like that." It's an answer that surprises Madilla, her eyes widening slightly, then narrowing in thought as, presumably, she gives the idea some thought. "That's not the kind of answer I expected," she says, finally, a little apologetically. "Though I'm not sure why that's so. It would suit you, too, being so isolated? Though I suppose you're never so far from other people, when you've a dragon to take you." There's a look of apology, slight, for the surprise. "Sorry. That was more Isforaith than me, I think." The joy of having a fairly strong-willed lifemate. He shakes his head, reconsiders. "I like people," he starts. "My wingmates, some of my clutchmates, K'ndro," who deserves a special mention all of his own. "Sometimes I think it would be easier to be away from people rather than around them, though. It would probably drive me crazy, being alone. I guess... I've never lived outside of a weyr, you know? It would be interesting to just be away from everything. Just.. to see what it would be like." There's a quirked smile, at the end. "But you're right - it would be cheating, for me to do something like that, since I could easily go back at pretty much any time." Madilla's expression breaks back into a simple smile at the explanation, and she nods, hurriedly, to confirm it. "I don't think people are really /made/ to be alone like that. Not even with dragons. We all-- like to have people around." There's a pause, and then she amends, "Almost all of us. And I suspect those who say they don't would probably still find it very lonely, even if they don't interact with the people around them when they are there." There's the faint hint of a flush on her cheeks as she adds, "I'm not sure I'd call it /cheating/, though. Having a dragon around to take you back, I mean. You use the tools you're given, don't you?" "I agree with you. We're all social animals, after all, right?" Z'yi's tone is thoughtful. With a nod, and vague gesture of fingers at one of her comments- "You're right. Even the people who deny it still desire that interaction. I mean.. even quiet people enjoy companionship." He's may be the poster boy. Or, well, C'sel may be. Probably C'sel. The ale has loosened him up enough to smile at her faiint pinkness, and instead of answering her question, he offers a comment, simply: "You should count yourself lucky, you know. To be a pretty blusher, and not the other kind. The embarassed red kind, you know what I mean?" Teasing, lightly. The teasing makes Madilla blush darker, but it's still nowhere near the aforementioned embarrassed red kind; she manages a smile, laughing at herself even amidst her flustered shyness. "That's sweet of you to say," she murmurs, which may not be exactly the appropriate response, but clearly, it's the first thing to come to mind. It's quickly followed by, "I suspect some quiet people are actually quiet lonely. /Some/." There's an emotion that flashes, sudden and unreadable, in Z'yi's dark eyes, before he directs his gaze down to the tablecloth. "You are most likely quite correct," he replies. "Did you want dessert?" followed up, the bluerider focusing over to the passing waitress. "I'm not sure what they have, but I'm sure they have something decadent and ridiculously-named." Madilla must catch it-- must, if the way she suddenly turns her gaze away, clearly working on controlling her expression, is any indication. She obviously has no idea what's going on in the bluerider's head, but it's embarrassing, nonetheless. She leaves that first topic of conversation alone, zeroing in, instead, upon the suggestion of dessert. "If you're going to," she says. "Then I will. But-- I don't mind, if not." Beat. "Probably more food-words I don't understand, though the last ones were-- tasty, at least." "Want to split something, then? I promise to get you back to the weyr at a decent hour," Z'yi states, trying back for that easier tone found earlier in the meal. The current awkwardness is his fault, after all, and it's rather obvious in his demeanor that he's aware of this. "Though I'm quite sure that it's likely later than I realize. Good conversation makes time fly - for me, at least." Madilla seems to be trying hard, too, to get things back to that point. She takes a breath, and then she nods, smiling brightly: "That would be lovely. Something decadent; it's not every day you get to have something like that, is it?" She presses her hands together, then slides them apart, dropping both towards her lap before she adds, "For me, too. It's-- funny. I used to have a lot of trouble with it. Having conversations. I suppose I just got used to it, and now it's easier. I found a lot of things overwhelming." The waitress is flagged down, and the most decadent desert on the menu is ordered - a brulee of some sort, accompanied by a side full of fancy words that boil down to salted caramel sauce and hothouse blueberries. That accomplished, Z'yi visibly shakes off whatever - whatever that was, a moment prior. "You're not the only one," Z'yi offers. "After meeting Mik, though... it's hard to be his friend without being able to talk. Maybe not as much as he does, and maybe not enough to even keep up with a thread of conversation with, say, Gustav, but... you know what I mean." If Madilla's expression is anything to go by, she's pretty unsure of what any of that dessert means... but she's eager to give it a try. "Gustav is a bit like that, isn't he? Good with the children, though. If he Impresses-- I think the nannies may miss him, and not just because it was nice for them to have a man amongst them." She grins, then, adding, "I don't know K'ndro all that well, aside from being the one that delivered his daughter. You and Milani obviously both speak highly of him; I'm glad." Glad that they're friends? Glad of something else? "Even if he Impresses... the way I've seen it, people with professions like that never stray far from them, if they really love them. Like that brownrider, in Avalanche, that spends just as much time in the kitchens as he does doing wing drills. Do you know the one?" The question's waved off as unimportant, after a minute. The next topic, well, Madilla may get tired of hearing Z'yi's enthusiastic bro-love. "K'ndro is probably the best man I've ever met, in my life," Z'yi replies, more serious than not. "He'd give a person the shirt off his back without thinking anything about it. He deserves every happiness that life could give him." The grin, then, is more mischievous than not: "And probably more, considering all the trouble I've got him into, over the turns." Like, uh, wall building with W'chek. The healer may not know the brownrider in question, but the concept doesn't seem to be a foreign one to her: she nods along readily enough. If anything, though, she seems positively delighted by the way Z'yi talks about K'ndro, her eyes shining. "Then I'm glad he seems to be doing well-- at least, I know without question his daughter makes him happy. And I'm glad the two of you have each other: that kind of friendship is... well, it's important, isn't it? Not vital, but... it makes such a difference." "He's saved my life," Z'yi replies, in a matter-of-fact way. "Without a doubt." He doesn't go into detail. "He loves that little girl of his, though," with almost exasperation in his fond tone. "Blabbers off at the mouth about all of her 'firsts'. I swear, it's... well, it's good for him. I had suspected it would be weird, you know? What with Milani and K'del. But it seems to balance fine, which- surprises me, I guess." He shakes his head, ruefully. Madilla doesn't question that - the saving of Z'yi's life. She simply nods, apparently accepting it as easily as she would someone telling her that they ate breakfast this morning. "Parents are often like that," she laughs, amused and pleased, and not afraid to show it. "I think it's lovely to see, and hear about. Perhaps that's just because I love babies so much." She's silent for a moment before she adds, "I would find it strange. But... no, they do seem to manage. I believe-- well, it must have been quite an adjustment for K'del. But the last I heard, things are fine there, too." Beat, then, explaining: "Milani and I are quite friendly." Oh hey, look, a big plate with a little desert! Well, little being a relative word, given the pile of blueberries and criss-crossing caramel over the circle of hard-sugar-topped custard. Z'yi sort of stares at it a minute, and picks up his spoon with a sort of hesitance. "I think I'm afraid to mess it up, much less eat it," he comments, shaking his head before returning to the topic at hand. "I know K'ndro hasn't any hard feelings about it. Or, at least, if he does, he's never spoken to me about it." A quirked smile. At the end, "Oh, really? I wasn't aware." Regarding Milani. "She seems a very capable woman, in all respects." Madilla's eyes go distinctly wide at the sight of the dessert; she even has to tilt her head this way and that to get a better angle on it, and ends up just shaking her head. "/Goodness/." She picks up her own spoon with a relatively equal amount of hesitance, but after a few moments, she lunges in to use it to break the hard sugar, noting, "There. Now it's ruined anyway, so we'd better get to it." She dips her spoon in properly, drawing free a chunk of dessert that she returns towards her, though before it goes into her mouth she adds, "I'm glad. And-- yes, she is. She's been very good to me. The weyr is lucky to have her." /Now/ the dessert goes into her mouth, and from her expression, well: it's pretty good! The look on Z'yi's face, when Madilla swoops in and destroys it deliberately... well, it's priceless. Pure and utter pricelessness. He may even make a choking noise afterwards. He recovers, with a grin on his face that seems somehow easier than all the previous expressions, and makes a point to gather a blueberry, some syrup, a bit of the custard all together on his spoon before trying it. Eyebrows shoot up. "This is the point in time where I would normally use an expletive," he conversationally notes, distracted entirely by the dessert for another bite. However, conversation calls his name, and he feels obliged to say, "It would seem that she balances Tiriana rather well. Not that I know anything of how the lower caverns is run, of course, but-- I assume." /What/? Says the look on Madilla's face, and it's maybe even a little mischievous, and fades out to distinct amusement as that grin replaces Z'yi's more priceless expression. "By all means, do," she tells Z'yi, undaunted. "I think it's quite expletive worthy, honestly. Wow." She goes back for a second spoonful as soon as the first is properly swallowed, though this one gets eaten in a more leisurely fashion. "I think so," she adds then. "Though I don't believe they get along at all, which makes things quite difficult. I suppose I would find it frustrating to have a working relationship with someone I didn't terribly like..." She breaks off. "Not that I'm saying that is strictly the case, of course." Z'yi considers this, thoughtful. "I'm.. not entirely sure that I've ever had a working relationship with someone that I didn't get along with. At least, in - the 'you are my superior and we really dislike eachother' working relationship way." Though he did work with W'chek in weyrlinghood at one point... "This is Tiriana we're talking about," with his spoon full of creamy sweet and salted goodness waving to emphasize his point. "She doesn't like /anyone/, except R'uen." And even that sounds dubious, coming from Z'yi. Then said spoonful of dessert is occupying his attention again, and that /may/ be a mumbled statement of how ridiculously good it is, under his breath. "I think I've just... well, I've always /respected/ people, even if I didn't want to interact with them on a personal level. But..." Madilla trails off, and then nods. "Tiriana is a difficult case." Which probably sums it up relatively well. Her next spoonful takes most of her attention from the conversation, too, each delectable little bit given due consideration before she swallows. "It's something about the salt, isn't it? I would never have thought salt would work in dessert, but..." /Wow/. There's a brief nod. "She is." Tiriana, of course, being a-- difficult case, as so well stated. Z'yi seems more than happy to discuss the (salty) sweetness than the weyrwoman, though, given the way he moves to that topic. "I think it is. Without the blueberries I think it would be too-- rich, too? It all sort of.. balances. I guess." A hard thing for him to describe, evidently. He traces his spoon through a bit of the caramel, tastes it thoughtfully. "I think you're right, though. About the.. salt." Two people who don't know much about food, talking about food. "Yes!" agrees Madilla, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and presumably about the blueberries. "They-- soften it a bit. I think. I suppose fruit is good for that. Less... intensely sweet, or rich, or... whatever." Eloquent. Really. Dessert, evidently, wins out over intense conversation. At least for now. Well, at least when one is eating it! "Sort of bitter, too. Like. Not bitter. Tart?" He's nodding at the last word, very satisfied at coming up with that as a description of the blueberries. "Okay, one more bite, and you can have the rest." Not like there's much left, anyhow. Z'yi does take his last spoonful and recline back, though, a supremely satisfied expression on his face as he enjoys the last little bit. "Incredible." Madilla's nod is enthusiastic: tart! Yes, that one. She gives him a little dubious glance over the shared plate as if to say 'you're really going to give the rest up?' but as he reclines, well, that's probably taken as a yes, because she does delve back in for the last couple of bites. "Truly incredible," she agrees, once she's cleaned off the last traces of custard and caramel from her spoon. "Not, I suppose, something to be eaten /every/ day, but... worth it, every once and a while. It's not often I just... eat for the pleasure of it." "I'd be as big as the side of a barn," Isz comments, "If I ate that every day." Right now, you see, he's only as big as a /half/ side, see. "I know. I mean, I enjoy it when they have that sweet-potato stew. That's tasty," he reflects, with a pleasant enough smile for the memory of said stew. "But nothing.. nothing like that. I can understand how people can be so caught up in making food, if it can taste like that." "We'd all have to roll around the caverns and bowl just to get places," reflects Madilla, laughingly. "It sort of-- well. I guess comparing all of this to caverns food is like comparing fingerpainting to a mural painted in the Great Hall of one of the Holds. It's-- certainly, I learned how to cook, a little, anyway, when I was a child. But if that is cooking, then this is... something different again, entirely. You just can't compare the two." "Well put. There's the everyday, and then there's... special occaisions, I guess? For things like this. For.. artistry." Because Z'yi doesn't know how to put it other than food as art, like this. He gestures to the waitress, for the check, in a leisurely manner. "The closest I come to cooking is chopping vegetables. I'm getting pretty good at it - it was recommended as a way to make sure my small motor skills didn't deteriorate when my shoulder broke." Though Madilla probably would know more about that than he would. As Z'yi gestures to the waitress, Madilla reaches into her pocket, presumably to draw free her coin-purse. As she does, laughing, "Yes-- we do like that kind of physical therapy, don't we? And that at least has the benefit of being useful in more than one way. The kitchens always need more hands with that kind of work, I would imagine. They probably miss you in there, now!" "If you even /think/ about that, I'll have to do something exceedingly drastic," Z'yi comments, his expression rather fierce, and at odds with his seemingly mild tone. You know, at the thought of her paying for her own meal. He makes a show of keeping an eye on the Healer as he pays the waitress directly, with a tip besides, and offers said waitress a genuine thanks for the service. "And tell whoever cooked this meal that it was incredible, would you?" Now, with that worry over and done with, he reclines back. "I find myself in there every few nights, even though I don't have to," Isz admits. "They've been letting me watch the convict candidates while I'm chopping, mostly." There's that rueful smile: trust a cook to put a person to double-duty. Madilla makes a face, blushes again, but does what she's told. "I /do/ earn a decent stipend, you know," she comments, once the waitress is out of sight again. "I /can/ pay for myself." Even if it's too late in this instance. Nonetheless, she looks pleased. Women! Go figure. This said, she does have an amused expression as she adds, "'Letting' you watch them. That's kind of them. The cooks, I mean." She presses her hands flat against the edge of the table, head shaking. "Do they let the convicts have knives to help with the chopping? Or is that considered too dangerous?" "Of course you do. But /I/ invited /you/, and that's just- not how it works," Z'yi states, his tone amused. "You know this just as well as I do." It's just the way the world works! Women are pleased at men paying for them, and men get to be pleased at showing off their supposed wealth. It's a strange world, but, you know. "Well, I wouldn't care one way or the other, personally," Z'yi comments, regarding convicts and knives. "I mean, I'd be more worried about them slicing one of their own fingers off from not being allowed to do anything but crush rock for the last turn or two, but. They prepare herbs, wash pans, do some of the more basic-- preparations, I guess?" At least Madilla is not an arguer and, token resistance made, she lets the issue go. Not paying for dinner means more marks to send back to her family, so it's not exactly a loss. "Ah," she says, of the convicts, nodding along quickly. "No-- well, right? I can't imagine any of them would do something so stupid as use a knife violently, not when they have the opportunity at a fresh start, and... so much to lose. I suppose they'd be unused to kitchen work in general, though, and that might take some getting used to for them." 'The poor things', says her expression. Z'yi isn't at all as figured-out on his views regarding convicts as Madilla is, but on this, they agree. "The kitchens are fairly well-entrenched in the weyr, so it wouldn't make any sense whatsoever to try to break out using a knife, from that position. And all of these people are close to being done with their time, anyhow, so.. even if they don't Impress, the chores they experience during candidacy will likely prepare them better for returning to normal life than anything the minercraft could have offered them." His view is less the-poor-things, more the-weyr-is-so-nice-for-doing-this-for-them!, but, same general feel, maybe? "Yes, exactly," agrees Madilla, firmly. "From what I understand, they're all /very/ close, so... this is it, for them. They Impress, or they go on with their lives, and in either case, they are going to be part of society again. Once they've paid their debt to society, they're free... we can't treat them differently. We /shouldn't/, anyway." Ah, if everything worked the way Madilla seems to want it to work... things would get difficult very quickly. Good judge of character she is often not. "I haven't heard of any major problems with them, anyway. Minor ones, only." "Well, we have to look at the risk of weyr residents, too. Because no doubt some of them /were/ convicted because they are, at heart, violent persons." There's a grimace on Z'yi's face, as if he's trying hard not to make the weyr look hypocritical. "But... we'll see, I suppose? Hopefully they'll adapt well to freedom, one way or the other." Well-wishes, Isz can do! Madilla looks as though she doesn't /really/ want to believe this of them - of anyone! - but she gives a half nod all the same. She probably doesn't think of the weyr as being full of violent people, either, though give her another day or two... we'll see. "I hope so," she says, genuinely. "I really do. I want them all to recognise that they get a second chance. Candidates or no. All we have to do is /take/ the chances we get." "Very true. Very true," Z'yi comments, falling into a moment of silence here at the end of the meal. "Well, Madilla, this has been an exceptionally pleasant meal, and for that, I thank you. I figure I need to get you back before I make you late in the morning. I'd hate for Delifa to come scalp me," cheerfully enough stated. The idea of Delifa scalping anyone seems to make Madilla amused, but she nods readily enough, however reluctantly. "Yes, of course," she agrees, already reaching for her pile of jackets, coats and other outerwear. "It's-- it has been pleasant, hasn't it? Thank you for inviting me. And--" There's a pause, a moment of hesitation and indecision, and then, "Thank you for your offer, too. I /will/ consider it. I don't... know how things stand at the moment. But. I will consider it. If you're still willing." "You are certainly welcome, Madilla. We should do it again sometime." There's a pause. "I mean it. I don't often get a chance to have conversation like this. It was... it was nice. Even if we only go for a walk around the weyr, you know?" Z'yi doesn't make to move until she gets that, apparently, his own gaze a bit searching. At the end, "I am. It doesn't - it does matter," he amends, "But regardless of it, I'd like to.. be your friend." This seemingly is fairly important to the bluerider, at this junction. See those dark eyes? They're like /puppy dog/ eyes right now. Puppy dog eyes? You can't do that to a girl! Well - not without getting the desired response, unfortunately. Madilla would positively melt, if she was that kind of girl; as it is, her eyes go big, and she nods several times quickly. "It's been lovely. And I would-- like that. To be your friend. And to do this more often. Yes." It's a little babbly, but she seems genuine in it: she positively beams at him. There! That's perfect. Z'yi seems very happy, himself, at this. "I'm glad. I feel like I'm six years old again, walking up and randomly asking someone, 'wanna be my friend?', but.." There's a grin, before he ducks his head, and gathers up his jacket. "If you're ready, though, we can go?" he offers, making a gesture outwards, towards the exit. "I think I more or less did the same thing to B'tal," offers Madilla, "So we'll say it's perfectly reasonable, no matter how old we might actually be." Still smiling. All her things drawn together, and her seat pushed back in, she bobs her head quickly, taking the first few steps towards the exit-- where eventually there will be coat-putting-on, a trip home, and a very friendly, warm 'thank you and good night'. There's a small laugh, for Madilla and B'tal - but Z'yi can see it. Perfectly. "Very reasonable," he concurs. Out they go, indeed: warded against the cold and ::between::, Isforaith will continue his streak of attempting to be as graceful as possible, though perhaps his next landing will be a bit more like his typical rockiness. Once delivered, Z'yi will of course thank Madilla for the evening and the company and the conversation, and meander home himself, to mull over this most recent development.
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