Logs:Empty Nest
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| RL Date: 30 May, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Madilla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After Devaki's proposal, Madilla comes home to be angsty. |
| Where: Madilla's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Raija/Mentions, Vinien/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. Actually played 5th June 2014. |
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| It was early evening before Leova and Vrianth dropped Madilla and the kids back at home; later still before Raija had been collected, and all three had been put to bed. Lilabet may well be still awake, reading, but she's both self-entertaining and conveniently placed to keep an eye on her siblings. It leaves Madilla to her own devices - to pace, if she so chooses, or quilt, or read, or indeed all and none of these things, one after another. Now, finally, she's sitting upon the bed, clutching a toddler-sized quilt that is like the one Raija carries with her at all times, though it's in far better condition. It's getting late, but it's always getting late, when Y'rel is done with his wingsecond, when all the things have been said, and any necessary drinks have been consumed. It's usual, even if not always appreciated, all of it. So when H'kon enters, he's not wary, though he is quiet; he moves quickly through the main room, pausing outside the children's door to listen, one hand extended, as it often is, toward the handle, but leaving it unturned before he moves on. When he enters the room, he still smells of dragon, his hair is still messed from his riding gear, and the anticipation of seeing Madilla works into those specific lines on his face - not a full smile, but not far off. Those lines fall away some, when he sees her. And he waits, wordless, door still ajar, one foot in, one on the threshold. It's written on her face that something is wrong, of course: it's not just the pose she's in, or the quilt she's holding so tightly. She's not been crying, but there's something dead tired about her eyes, as though she's wept silent tears into a state of exhaustion. Madilla glances up as H'kon appears, swallowing heavily enough that it's probably audible, even from across the room. "He wants Dilan to live there, for a turn," she says, dully, the words carrying a practiced weight, as though she's pre-planned what she intends to say. "Dee says he wants to." Everything is subtle: the hardening in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the tightening of his grip on the door as H'kon finishes stepping through, closing it softly, almost soundlessly, behind him. The tension goes with him, keeps his footsteps quiet as the rider makes his way to the bed, where he crosses his arms over his chest. Those changes are still intact, still expressed on his face, when he waits. Madilla knows H'kon too well to have expected an answer, clearly, though that doesn't stop her from watching H'kon in wide-eyed silence as he makes his way towards the bed. Her words after that aren't practiced: they're emotional and over-wrought, tumbling one over the other as she tries to get them all out, like a much-needed purge. "I said it would have to be up to Dee, and I suppose I knew he'd be tempted, having spent the day playing with Vinny and the girls. He loves having a brother so much. I couldn't say no. He's his son, and I kept him from him for so long. And he sees it as being one-up on Lily, because he can go somewhere before she does, and... I just... I can't stand it, H'kon." That tense jaw is turning into a firmer frown. H'kon's nostrils are still flaring as he breathes. His arms have tightened up further against each other. Low-voiced, carefully metered, "Did he put this choice to Dilan before bringing it to you?" Madilla exhales, lengthily, green eyes lifted to focus intently upon H'kon's own. "No," she says, rather more quietly, now, and if still emotional, certainly at least a little more calm. "No, he talked to me first. I had to let him." She lets that hang for a moment, and then adds, on a sigh, "Issedi is pregnant again, and he promised me he doesn't want to steal my son, and won't stop him from Standing if that's what he wants, and... I just hate it. I keep hoping that Dee will change his mind and refuse to go." H'kon issues something between a snort and a grunt, and turns so that he can sit on the edge of the bed - more, perch, ready to jump up more than at ease. A few breaths before he releases a still-mostly-clamped-down, "What is his purpose in having Dilan there?" "He wants..." Madilla exhales. Her tone is dull, now. "He wants him to know more about the other half of his heritage. He wants to experience putting him to bed at night, and all the things that he doesn't get to see because he only sees him for a few hours at a time. He wants Vinien and Dilan to really know each other, and be friends." Her fingers unconsciously trace the quilted patterns of the blanket in her lap, the one she no doubt wrapped around her newborn son, all those turns ago. This time, the sound is more of a growl. H'kon has uncrossed his arms, contenting himself to make a fist of one hand, and press it into, and press against it with, the other. A knuckle cracks, somewhere in there, breaking the silence of his thoughts, bringing, "You've said before that Dilan is your son. Devaki was his sire only, but is being made his father." H'kon shakes his head, and his teeth hit hard when they close, audible. The tears are beginning to come, now, though Madilla cries silently: no angry sobs. "I know," she says. "And that's always how I saw it, but... he loves having a father. Being able to name him, and know him, and have brothers and sisters and..." Madilla hugs the quilt to her chest, arms wrapped tight about herself. "Devaki loves him. I don't want to do this, but I feel like I have to. Like I've been walked into a corner." "But you've not been walked." H'kon might try to make it gentler in sound, lowering his voice the more, but it hangs there, stark, nonetheless. "You thought it best. Would it also be best, for him to know the life of the hold, and what it is to be the bastard among a full-blood family? The Lord Holder's? Or is this something else? Some guilt?" Now he looks over to Madilla, rather than at the fist he grinds into his palm. The look is hard, chilled, though neither of those things seem directed at the woman, or externally at all. It may not be directed at her, but it results in a flinch, anyway; the words, too, which have her lower her face towards her knees so that now, finally, she can sob. "I know," she says, through hiccoughing sobs. "I know, I know." And, mutedly, "He always makes it seem reasonable and right and then later..." Later, she ends up miserable. H'kon sees that flinch, and changes the angle of his head. He doesn't, or perhaps can't, change that expression. "Dilan is young, still. A turn is longer than he might know. But it's been offered him now." The 'hm' still has a growling quality, but less than the previous noise from H'kon. "If he wishes to cut it short?" Madilla has to take a few deep, shaking breaths before she can actually answer that question. Even so, her words are muffled by the quilt, by her knees, and by her continued inability to breathe properly. "Then he comes home. I insisted. I don't think he's..." A swallow. "I think he only sees the positives, at the moment. Not the realities of leaving his home and family. That we won't be there. That," is that a smile, hinted at behind the desperate gloom? "Arekoth won't be." "If he is to know what he is, then let him know it all." Still that calculating quality, that cool expression. It's the mention of his dragon's name that prompts a bit of a twitch in H'kon's lip, a curl that doesn't actualise. He twists his fist the other way, and then, consciously, pulls both hands away, open, until they can take a firm hold of the edges of the mattress on either side of his legs. "And I'd not be surprised if he could reach Arekoth, if he tried. Should he need." Madilla lifts her head again, now, managing to still her shakes through careful inhalations, one after the other. Her words fail her, initially; her little nod will have to suffice as answer until, shakily, she says, "Then that's something. He... needs to do this. So that he knows. Even if it hurts. Us. And him." She swallows, then. "It hurt. When he was so excited about the prospect. It hurt so much, and I had to smile, and be positive, and..." The dragon was the chink in that analytical sort of armour he'd tried on. Madilla and Arekoth, double-teamed, and it's left H'kon looking more speculatively at her now, as she speaks. His tone is as quiet, but some of the steel is gone from it. "It's not a sad thing, Madilla, to have a son ready to strike out into the world." It's a moment before he adds, "Or daughter." Madilla sucks a breath in through her teeth, nodding wryly. "Lilabet's upset," she says, then. "She's jealous, but also not jealous, and I think she just feels... I know it's not a sad thing. Logically." She uncrumples the quilt, smoothing it out with her fingertips, tracing lines here and there. "It's just hard. I didn't think to lose them so soon. Not both of them." "Dilan will return. He is not yet grown." Lilabet... H'kon just looks, thoughtful, to the door for a moment, distracted. "When do you mean for him to go?" There's more practicality in that, always more, and H'kon lifts his chin, focused once more, waiting on the answer, green eyes on Madilla again. "But it will be different," Madilla blurts out, immediately embarrassed by the admission, or perhaps just by her emotions, as tangled and confused as they are over all of this. "I-- after turn's end, we agreed. It's all arbitrary, in the end, but it seemed like a reasonable date." Six weeks in the future. A long time, and also, plainly, not nearly long enough. "Hm," agrees. "Change is a constant, it seems." But then he's nodding, committing that date to memory, watching the healer a moment or two longer. "I would help him prepare, when the time comes," is almost more statement than request, for all its subjunctive qualities. H'kon's eyebrows have raised, just a little. Madilla almost (almost!) manages to laugh, her exhale falling just short, as she says, "Now I sound like Lilabet, I suppose. Change. Worrying about it. It's just that I'm going to miss them." Statement or request, she answers H'kon's latter remark with an unhesitating nod. "I'm sure he'd like that." Does it go without saying that the healer will, too? That she appreciates it? H'kon brings his hands forward again, but this time, not into fists. It's contemplative, the massaging of fingers, of his palm. "Good," finally acts as summary. "Good," is Madilla's echo, restrained and weary. Her tears have dried, by now, but that won't stop her from attempting to wipe her puffy eyes. "Raija will... we'll have to cross that bridge when we reach it." Not now, is, perhaps, the implication. Certainly, the healer is climbing off of the bed, now, ready to turn back the covers. "Raija is still young," comes in H'kon's best father voice. "She'll not be leaving for any other reason," is even a bit authoritative, protective, certainly. It's, perhaps, that same vein that he follows to a stand, though he leans, then, to press detaining fingers lightly to those covers. "Madilla," seeks pause as well. That protectiveness does serve to make Madilla smile, though her mouth opens to make a point that is held back along with her hands, by those detaining fingers. "I meant more... how she'll deal with them gone." Her nod, however, clearly encourages the brownrider to go on. Whatever clever segue he might have had is left only as an opening and closing of his mouth, barely a moment's hesitation, all told. Instead, "Have you thought of being with us - Arekoth, me - in this next turn?" What does bear mentioning, after that, in an almost whisper and with a little dip of his head, "I've tried patience, but I'd rather speak with them before they've gone. If it's even a consideration." H'kon watches her, seems comfortable. Even if his cheeks have reddened a little. That might be residual Y'rel-whiskey, also. Madilla's own cheeks redden, her teeth coming to an uneasy rest upon her lower lip. She inhales through her nose rather than through her mouth, exhaling again in a whistling, audible way. "I'd not meant it to... linger on like this." Not to leave H'kon hanging, certainly. "Yes," she says, then, a little above a whisper. "Is my answer." A beat after she's answered, and then, "Good," comes almost as a tumbled laugh, some of that pent-up emotion let out, at least, in that. He doesn't repeat himself, he does nod, and look almost embarrassed for that lapse when taking his hands from the covers, in favour of scrubbing at a flat spot in his hair. Once his hand has fallen away, "Then we will speak with them." Composed. But watching her, keenly now. "Not tonight." It's enough to make Madilla smile; a genuine smile, this time, and though still emotional, it's no longer resolutely negative. She's pleased, despite (or perhaps because of) everything. "Good," she echoes, for the second time tonight, her blush receding as she lifts her chin in order to consider H'kon in return. "No," is rather firmer. "Not tonight."
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