Logs:Miscarriage
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| RL Date: 5 September, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, Yvalia, Jeyli, Zeizath, K'del, Cadejoth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Tayte miscarries. Ensuing drama and angst. |
| Where: Southern Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Nelfreya/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Yes, it's what the log title says. As such, expect adult themes, tremendous angst, and lots and lots of crying. This was done as part vignette part scenes and all brought together into one cohesive log. Many thanks to K'del, H'vier, and Telavi as Jeyli for being up for something this dark/angsty. |
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| Southern Weyr The tall cliff that houses Southern Weyr overlooks the crescent-shaped cove at its base, riddled with caves often used for storage. On the headland, lush foliage and scattered trees provide shade for stone dwellings and the distinctive shapes of dragon wallows beside. Squarely in the center of this sprawl of housing is the open-sided weyrhall boasting flagstone paving all around, branching off into paths that lead across the plateau. The shallow cone of the old volcano is weather-worn, not high enough for habitation, but its sands are still warmed from beneath, providing an excellent location for Southern's golds to lay their eggs. About a mile distant lies the Hold's headland, the red sails of Southern ships often dotting the harbor.
It was the pain that crashed her into sudden wakefulness. The cramps had become stronger, much stronger. She felt an inexplicable pressure in her pelvis. The way she had sat bolt upright had roused Vali into a sleepy stretch. Tayte's attention was suddenly divided. As ever, mothering instinct helps distract from the pain. "Shh, sleep, baby. Everything's okay." Baby. The word echoed in her mind, and despite the rub she gave to Yvalia's back, she knew everything was not okay. Stealing out of the bed was harder done than thought, the cramps felt near-crippling. She used the furniture, the walls, anything she could for support as she grabbed her long black robe and threw it on. It took a long time. She knew there must be tears on her face but it was hard to feel anything outside of the pain. What to do? She didn't have a plan for this. It was just she and Vali. Vali was too young to be sent for help, too young to be left here alone. But something is wrong. The neighbors? Maybe. But she'd have to get there first. Would sending Vali to them for help be less frightening than if she started screaming for aid? Probably. With regret, she moved back to the bed. Back to her sleeping angel who was far too young for this. Four and a half turns, only. But she could walk and she could talk, and this was an emergency. "Vali, sweetie." Tayte tried to keep her voice calm, but there was an edge of stress that she couldn't hide. She gave the girl a moment to rouse, "Mommy needs help." "What is it, Momma?" The girl asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I need you to be a big brave girl for me and go next door and wake Haleia and Wylon. Tell them to come here, please. I need help." It was probably the tears on Tayte's cheeks that made Yvalia's expression fearful, not so much the ranging about at night. "Take the glow basket, okay?" She reached to the mostly-covered glow on the nightstand and opened the basket for her. They took the time to make sure Yvalia was slipped into her pink robe and slippers. "It's going to be okay, Momma." The little girl didn't really know what was going on, but Tayte appreciated more than ever before having a child that does as she's told. Only, she didn't. Well, she did. But her knocking and soft calls weren't enough to rouse Haleia and Wylon. But Momma needed help and Yvalia didn't want to go back empty-handed. So she did the only logical thing she could think of.
Zeizath is asleep, thank you-- except then suddenly he lurches into wakefulness, eyes unlidding and a rush of breeze passing by her as his wings swing out; while ordinarily he doesn't appear to pick up on her emotions particularly, now there are yellower spots in those eyes. It's moments later that Jeyli appears at the door, spurred by her blue's wakefulness more than the exact message, the hem of her nightgown loose over bare feet. "Yvie? What?" The girl wouldn't recognize the man who appears behind her, looking if it's possible even more confused. "Momma's crying," Yvalia starts and her voice rises in pitch as she goes along, "And she sent me to get help from Haleia and Wylon only they didn't answer and -- and-- she needs help. So I came here." And now her eyes are glittering with tears. Tears of innocent stress. Did she do right? Did she do good? Is Momma going to be okay? She grabs onto Jeyli's hand with a tug. "We have to go help her." Then, "Please? Please, help her!" Tug, tug. What? Then Jeyli's turning to Mr. Anonymous, murmuring a few words that her niece doesn't need to hear, and if he's then looking a touch exasperated, she's leaving with Yvalia anyway. "We'll go, we'll go, I'll just get my sandals on," and if Yvalia needs to keep holding on then she can because they scuff on, Jeyli doesn't even have to reach down to get them on. As soon as they're on, woman and child are off, and Jeyli will scoop Yvalia up if she needs to in order to get there faster. Barely slowing as they near the small stone dwelling, "Tayte?" with anxiety in her voice. If Haleia and Wylon slept through Yvalia's pleas before, Jeyli isn't going to be quiet for them now. Yvalia does her best, but ultimately picking her up is the best option. Little legs can only run so fast, and there's tripping despite the light of the outstretched glow. "In here." Tayte calls, then quickly, and with plenty of anxiety of her own, "Is Vali with you?" She surely recognizes Jeyli's voice, and Tayte knows it's been too long that she's been gone and has begun to worry. There's something else in her voice. Something definable. Pain. "She's here," Jeyli begins, her voice shaking before she recovers it. "Tayte?" Not to leap to conclusions or anything, and has she ever really heard her big sister's voice in pain before? but even as she breaks out of that frozen moment to hurry to Tayte's side, "Nelfreya. Do we... need Master Nelfreya?" Tayte didn't just stub her big toe, did she? Please let her have stubbed her toe. Tayte's still sitting on the bed, still in her black robe, only now she's got a cloth pressed into her lap. The light in the room is still dim, so perhaps it is Tayte's resolved answer that comes without hesitation that makes the greatest impact: "We need Master Nelfreya." Maybe it was the blood loss that made the next moments and the ones that followed a blur in Tayte's mind when she thought back on them. Jeyli going for the healer. Yvalia sitting with her, not really understanding, but repeating that everything would be okay, and holding her mother's hand, scared, but being Momma's big brave girl. Nelfreya arriving with a stocky apprentice. The healer gently but firmly ushering Yvalia out to wait with Jeyli while the healers spoke with Tayte. The big one gathering the woman up in his arms to carry her back to the infirmary. She remembered Nelfreya's calm voice when she told Jeyli, "She's most likely miscarrying. We'll take her to the infirmary and see to her. You'll mind the girl?" She remembered Jeyli's look of shock, and mute nod. Tayte felt dazed, and especially helpless as she saw Vali's look of confusion and fear, her little hand tightly wrapped around two of Jeyli's fingers. "Jeyli," Tayte blurted just before the healers moved to leave, "Tell Cadejoth we need K'del. Tell him to come. Where we are. Tell him to come now." Then she was wracked with a fresh pain, and she curled against the apprentice that cradled her. Nelfreya saw the change in Tayte's face, the tanned skin turning pale and the sweat. "Time to go." She announced briskly. And they went. Which left Jeyli shivering, and perhaps it's not just those two fingers that have begun to verge on numb, but Zeizath is her wellspring even now. If he doesn't know Cadejoth, well, names never belong to more than one dragon, and so he calls it out into nothingness. « Cadejoth. Cadejoth! » It's from Southern. It echoes. It's two hours earlier, at High Reaches, but even there the hour is late - and Cadejoth, well, he sleeps like the dead. Zeizath's call doesn't reach him, not at first... but it does get spread, passed from dragon to dragon. Cadejoth? Cadejoth must be out there somewhere. Cadejoth is known. And so, finally, it's an icy blue at Benden who throws the force of his call in the direction of High Reaches-- « CADEJOTH! » And there he is: « Hello? » Surprise, and the last remains of sleep, linger in his thoughts. His chains are coiled in, held close; he's wary. The reply's a beacon, something the Southern blue can reach for directly, can fold upon itself to shorten the distance between. But if Cadejoth holds himself close, well, it's hardly Zeizath's fault if, in his rider's urgency, his voice is more carrying than it strictly needs to be: « Yours is wanted. » Image, white on indigo blue: a woman, her features indistinct, seated amongst the rumple of blankets. Image: a child, and Yvalia's face is recognizable now, and so worried. « Does he recognize them? » Except Zeizath might as well be asking, Does he claim them? « Yvalia. » It's rare, so rare, for a dragon - for Cadejoth, anyway - to refer to anyone by name, but this... it's more like a breath, less a word than a simple understanding. « Of course he does. We've been looking-- where? What's wrong? » Something must be wrong, and now, in this moment of panic, Cadejoth is not so good at limiting his reply, either. It is wrong. Not with Zeizath's rider, and therefore there's not that desperation, but, « She wants you. Come, » and there's the visualization, Southern, and then by memory nothing that can be betweened to-- only run to, by the dim light of.gibbous Belior and the few glows left out by the landing field-- the healers' pavilion. Cadejoth can't, by now, remember the details of his conversation with Reisoth, but his rider can, and does, and that must be the source of the blood that carries itself in his thoughts, blood-and-iron, bound tight. « We're coming, » the bronze promises, with a rush of air. Perhaps he's already aloft. « Come, » Zeizath confirms. He will not wait there, is not there. Jeyli will not be there, either, by the time K'del arrives; it takes time to bundle up a little girl and not make her even more anxious, with a pillow and favorite blanket and the little stuffed dragon. Maybe most children have such a toy, but this one is Yvalia's, and Tayte is Yvalia's, and in neither case will a substitute do. It's hurry, hurry, Jeyli trying not to get impatient but sometimes failing, off to the place with the healers and the little room set aside for waiting.
It's explained to her in calming tones, with words as neutral as they can summon: "You're experiencing a miscarriage." Stop. "We will monitor your condition and try to ease your pain." Stop. The words are innocuous. Their meaning, however, is anything but. What they're really saying, Tayte knows, is "Your baby is dead. This is its passing." She weeps and cannot stop weeping.
Breathless sprinting is not an altogether uncommon occurrence for the entryway of the infirmary pavillion and attached small complex. But it always gets someone's attention. In this case, it appears to be one of the apprentices on duty, a girl in her older teens by the look of her who sedately approaches the rider. "Everything alright, sir?" She's looking him over like he might be her next vict-- er.. patient. Long underwear in Southern? Surely this is a case for the mindhealers! "Uh - Tayte, she was brought in?" K'del has to struggle to get the words out, and certainly he doesn't seem to be aware of the sight he's presenting (though he must be quite warm at this point). "Oh." The apprentice's voice falls. It's probably because she's still an apprentice that she doesn't mask the sadness in that singular note. It's a sad situation, after all. "Yes, sir. Are you the father?" There's worry in her expression then. She's not really trained for this if his answer is yes. K'del's hesitation has got to make things even more confusing for the poor apprentice: his jaw drops and he just stares at her, as if he can't even grasp what she's asking. Then, in a rush: "Maybe. It might be. Is she-- no, no, fuck, no." He looks, abruptly, like he's about to be sick. Sick! This is something that meets with a small amount of relief. Sick is familiar. The apprentice knows what to do with sick. She steps back, out of splash range, but casually. The movement gives her time to think. Maybe. That does complicate things. "I-- well, I'm really only supposed to give information to family members..." She gazes at this maybe-daddy uncertainly. "I can fetch Master Nelfreya...?" Who might know better. K'del is not sick, which is probably for the better, despite the green cast of his cheeks. He takes a steadying breath, and then attempts to explain, "Her daughter is mine. She called for me-- she had me brought, from High Reaches. Please. Please let me see her." "Called from 'Reaches?" The apprentice echoes. Well, that must be something. She must at least know that's where Tayte's most recently come from. "Well," One more moment of hesitation, "I'll take you back. But we'll have to see if it's-- if the Master is with her." There's a grosser way that sentence could have ended, but thankfully the apprentice took the professional path. She leads the way through the pavillion to the stone structure that edges one section, where there are more private spaces than the open-air cots under the pavillion. "Wait a moment, please." She indicates 'here', and then slips through one of the curtained doorways. Given the circumstances, it's probably not surprising that K'del doesn't manage 'relief' in response to the apprentice's acquiescence. He's a study in tension, after all, barely managing to avoid stepping on her heels as he hurries after her - crowding her, to some degree, until she slips through that doorway. He's not a patient waiter: he paces, back and forth, wringing his hands in abject misery. Some words that are exchanged behind the curtain can be heard. Evidently the healer is with Tayte, for there's the apprentice's voice, another calm alto, and eventually a weak version of what must be Tayte. The apprentice: "...says he was summoned from 'Reaches, ma'am," the calm alto, "Oh?" and Tayte, "K'del. Please, let him come." The plea is evidently heeded for the apprentice is pulling back the curtain for the bronzerider and opening her mouth to invite him in. Tayte can be seen on a cot behind the girl, looking distinctly pale and unwell. There's sweat on her brow, and her hair, in the braid she always used for sleep, is mussed. But at least she's alive, and blue (but reddened) eyes are looking to the doorway. The healer must be done her work because the older woman is washing her hands in a nearby basin and she sheets are smoothed over Tayte's legs. K'del doesn't wait for the invitation to be issued, just steps right past the apprentice, paying neither healer any attention at all. His attention is all for Tayte-- he reaches for her hand, sinking into a convenient chair beside her cot without really noticing it. "Tayte?" There are all kinds of questions within that recitation of her name, and none of them seem to be coming out. Instead: "I'm here. It's okay. It'll be... you're going to be okay." Tayte's grip is a good sign that yes, she's going to be okay, because her hand wraps with his and it might as well be the grip of a woman in labor. "I'll be back to check on you." The Master offers with an incline of her head before pointedly ushering the apparently nosy apprentice out before her. It's only after the nod Tayte gives her that she looks at K'del, hears his words, and-- falls apart. "I'm sorry." The words are strangled, and then repeated, again, and again, and again. She's reaching for him, needing him nearer than just that hand. Trying to lean up and forward has her wincing and leaning back, but still reaching as she surrenders to her sobs, surrenders to the breaking, to the shattering of the fragile attempt to pull herself together in the time that has passed already. She's been strong, but can't be now. This chair and cot thing clearly isn't working. Gingerly, K'del rises again, moving to perch uneasily on the edge of the cot, so that he can draw Tayte into his arms and hold her, smoothing her hair beneath his hand. "Don't be," he murmurs, whether or not he expects her to hear what he's saying, or comprehend it even if she does. "I'm here. You're safe." Maybe she won't notice that he, too, is crying... though the way his tears seem determined to drop into her hair probably won't help that particular not-quite-deception. He's been in this position before. And this... this is hard on so many levels. Does she notice his tears? It's hard to say, so consumed with her own grief, and guilt. She cries, and cries, and cries, curling into him, greedily accepting the comfort of his arms, needing it in a way she's needed few things before. At some point, Tayte's tears turn dry because she has no more to give, but it doesn't stop the sobbing. And finally, the gush of tears becomes a gush of words. "I'm so sorry, Kas. I couldn't face you. It happened again, and I didn't want it, and I was alone and I couldn't tell you because you'd want to be there for me, because you're you and so good and kind--" When he's not being an idiot. "--and I couldn't let you, because I would never want to let you out of my life again, and it hurt so much to have you there but not, and I thought if I left and got distance then someday I could handle it. Could handle things. Could be less messed up. Only then I started to want it. I wanted my baby--" And here she can't go on because the words are choking. And the only thing that comes out in a wail before the sobs reclaim her is: "My baby's dead!" That torrent of words must sting - perhaps rather more than sting - but K'del's arms don't draw back, and neither does the solidity of his body. If Tayte needs to cry into him, well, that's what he's here for, isn't it? "I'm so sorry," he murmurs, and really, what else can he say? "But it's okay, Tayte. You did what you needed to, and it's fine, and... shh, Tayte. I'm so sorry. Know how much it hurts." He doesn't mean it this way but... fine? How can things be fine when her baby is dead? Tayte's wracked with new sobs, just as tearless, but that surely hurt in her chest from the way she shakes in his arms. There's no new words. Not for a long, long time. In the time, her body starts to still, except the occasional shift and cringe, which isn't from the sobbing. Then finally, "H'vier's going to hate me." It's a self-loathing mumble. Then, quickly as realization hits, her eyes search up to his face, "Do you hate me?" Oh, fuck. That's not what he intended. True, K'del flinches at mention of H'vier, but it's her last question that has K'del really flinching. "What? No. Shells, Tayte, I've been so worried, but I don't hate you. Why should I? And if H'vier cares about you, even a little bit, he won't hate you either." Again, he strokes her hair. "Shh, Tayte. Don't worry about it. Now... do you want some water? Something? Vali's going to want to see you, I bet." His answer, despite the flinching, has Tayte burrowing against him, as much as the awkward positioning on the cot allows, her breath coming out in a sigh that has some degree of relief. In a way, it must be good for her, to have this other drama to focus on. Otherwise, she might still be crying. "She didn't know. I'd only just started to show." Tayte's voice sounds suddenly hollow. Her look up to K'del is touched with desperation. "I don't know what to tell her." She looks to the side opposite him, where there's a small table, with a cup on it. "Their alcohol is crap. But--" More. She nods to the glass. "Maybe you can get a bottle from my things and bring it later?" It's a whimsy thought that speaks to the strength of the alcohol. "But mostly-- Kas, can you-- will you take Vali for a few days? I can't-- I'm a mess." She feels a mess. She feels broken. A low breath escapes from K'del. "Of course," he promises. "Take her for as long as you need me to. She-- we'll just tell her you're feeling unwell, and this'll be an adventure, just me and her. Because you had her to yourself for so long. I'll bring you the booze, too." He exhales, and gives her a tight not-quite-smile. "It will be okay. Know it isn't, now, but... it will be." No, it's not okay now. But Yvalia will be cared for while Tayte tries to put herself back together. She keeps K'del there with her a time longer, but by then, the healer is coming back to check on her. Tayte thanks K'del, the words not feeling like 'enough', but so many things tonight feel like too much or not enough. Nothing is 'just right'. She suggests that he go to see if Vali's arrived with Jeyli yet. Jeyli, her sister. Jeyli, who's dragon summoned them here for her. And so it is that K'del is there, in the waiting room, waiting, when Jeyli and his daughter finally arrive.
Jeyli's looked down at Yvalia from that first word, and reluctantly she crouches, letting the girl run to him. The bluerider's ghostly in that nightgown when she straightens with the left-behind blanket, ghost-pale too, hair spiked up enough to bristle. The girl knows him better than she knows her, really. Ghosts don't need to hug themselves but, staying where she is, Jeyli does. "Hi sweetie," begins K'del, dropping to a crouch so that he can open his arms to his daughter-- and, well, it's been a while, and he's clearly pleased to see her, despite the obvious tension in his expression, and the faded tear-tracks down his cheeks. In putting his arms around the little girl, he also glances upwards, seeking out Jeyli for a grateful nod. Arms are thrown immediately around Daddy's neck and the little girl is obviously prepared to be picked up, and even if he doesn't, Yvalia's face is getting buried against his neck and chest. She just clings. Right now, words are too hard, but K'del can probably feel through her thin nightgown and pink robe the fluttery racing of her heart. It's a moment before Jeyli returns that nod, a dip of her head is all, and seeing Yvalia so... grateful... the bluerider slips a barefoot step back. Oh, she isn't unobservant-- what if he wanted to make off with the girl, after all?-- but with Yvalia tended, perhaps she might take her turn to get what she can from the healers. If there was anything K'del intended to say to Jeyli, now is clearly not the table: he hoists Vali up into his arms, rocking her gently once he's re-balanced himself into a standing position. "Hey baby," he murmurs. "It's okay. Your mom's going to be fine, and I'm here, and everything will be okay, I promise." "Daddy, I missed you." It's the first thing she can exhale, and he better cherish that one moment because then there's the more pressing matter: Momma. "What's wrong with Momma? She woke me up and she was cryin' and told me to get Haleia and Wylon an' they didn't hear me so I got Aunt Jeyli instead an' had to wake Zeizy up. An' the healers came, an'--" Well, he's already said she'll be okay, but that doesn't keep the worry from creasing Vali's small brow as she peers up at him, her own eyes starting to glitter with the threat of renewed tears. K'del withdraws one of his arms from Vali (though she's still securely held up in the other), but only so that he can lift his fingers to her face, putting them just under her chin to draw it up, slightly. "I missed you too," he tells her, genuinely. "You remember how you were sick, last winter? And you felt bad, and didn't really want to get up or do anything? Momma's sick, this time, and she needs lots of time to sleep and recover." It's hard to nod with his fingers under her chin, but like any good child, she manages the difficult with determination. Yvalia's quiet as she contemplates this. But this is Daddy, and she trusts him, so, "Okay." Her eyes flick away from his face and she looks to be thinking very hard about something. "We could bring her bre'fast in bed. An' rub her back. An' sing to her." Presumably all things that Tayte did for Vali when she was sick. Now, following her nod, K'del's fingers lift so that he can stroke Vali's cheek. "The best thing we can do for her is to let her sleep, okay? So you're going to come and stay with me for a few days, so Momma can get better. Just for a few days. We'll do some drawings for Momma, because I know that will make her feel better." Vali's eyes round at the announcement. And really? She looks torn. She missed Daddy, but Momma's sick, and now they're going to leave her alone? One of the things about young faces is that there are times when their thoughts appear as though scrawled for an attentive watcher to read as they come and flit away. She fidgets in K'del's arms, "But--" She has to have at least one but, "--what if she needs us? And we're not here?" Momma needed her tonight, after all. K'del has likely anticipated at least part of that reaction, though in truth Vali is more sensible about it than he might have feared. "Momma needed me tonight," he points out, after a moment. "And here I am. She's going to have the nice healers here to watch over her, and--" He breaks off. "And your, uh, aunt? Too. But we are going to focus on letting her rest and recover, and making sure that she knows how much we missed her, afterwards." Now Vali looks around. She's looking for that aunt. Who got off to... somewhere. When she doesn't find her in attendance, she looks back to K'del with her Most Serious Face. "Promise Aunt Jeyli or Zeizy will get us if Momma needs us? Like, right away fastly?" "Cross my heart," promises K'del, with absolute seriousness. "The instant she needs us, we'll be on our way." It's only now that he notices Jeyli's absence, but he doesn't seem concerned by it. "Do you need anything from where you've been staying, or shall we go home to bed? I'm tired, and I bet you are too." Well, it's not that she needs something from her room. Her favorite blanket's here, and she's got her dragon still clutched, but Yvalia hesitates: "Can I see Momma before we go?" Beat. "Please? I just want to give her a hug." And maybe the dragon plush, but she doesn't need to mention that plan aloud lest some adult want to spoil it. It's K'del's turn to hesitate, glancing in the direction of the room Tayte's in almost unconsciously. "Just for a moment, okay?" he says. "She needs to rest." Beat. "Let me go see if she's able to first, okay? Will you wait here like a good girl, just for a moment?" "Uh-huh." K'del's known her long enough to know that that assurance and the look that goes with it is a herald of the exact opposite. Welcome to Yvalia's stubborn streak. She gets it from her mother, and clearly K'del's either letting her see her mother or he's carrying her out and throwing her on a dragon, but the whole waiting like a good girl thing? Not going to happen. Another pause, and this time the cogs in K'del's head might as well be on the outside: he's obviously thinking fast, and quick. "Well," he says. "Just for a moment, okay?" Tayte will want to say good bye to her daughter, no doubt... hopefully she's ready for it. He takes a few steps forward, Vali still tightly braced against his hip, and to the room Tayte's in.
"I don't think so, but it might be their poor imitation of it. K'del's promised to get me a bottle of the good stuff from my things." Tayte answers, and it might become gradually obvious from the sort of 'slow' way she smiles wanly that the stuff might be gross tasting, but it's doing what it's meant to do: dulling the pain, and simultaneously the senses. "I think they've cut me off for a bit, though." They don't want her hammered after all, "So I'm taking this one slow." Hence the sipping. In fact, she sets the glass aside after one more sip and reaches out a hand toward Jeyli, inviting her closer and simultaneously requesting contact. Tayte always was a touchy-feely drunk. "Don't they know you're a vintner?" Jeyli can't help but ask about what might be presumed to be an active vintner's tolerances, or at least what they had been, never mind all the blood loss-- except then she catches herself asking something so mundane, and quickly shakes her head, never mind that either. She's hesitant at first, then quick to join her sister, catching Tayte's hand between her own as she sits on the very edge of the visitor's chair. "What is it?" It doesn't come out softly, more insistent even now. Give her something to do. "Something about healers knowing best." It's not exactly the most coherent answer, so maybe Healers really do know best, but that's about the extent of what Jeyli gets on the alcohol tolerance front. Her grip isn't exactly strong in Jeyli's, but a least it's firm. "I've asked K'del to take Vali home with him for a few days. She doesn't need to see me like this. I've scared her badly enough for one night and I know how she's missed him." She chews her lower lip a moment, and she has to pull in a breath and steel herself before saying: "In the morning, I need you to get ahold of Reisoth and have H'vier come. I think he might hate me. Or maybe he'll never want to see me again. Or. I don't know. But I have to tell him." She swallows hard. "And I can't wait too long. But-- at least I can spare him this." This, the sight of her in this hospital bed, with alcohol and still being tended to by the healers. Another breath. "Jey? Thanks." She squeezes her hand. She means for everything that's happened tonight. And abruptly, there are tears sneaking down her cheeks. Tayte might not even be aware of them. At least Jeyli's lips only part, they don't actually voice 'Mother knows best,' for all that Tayte is still that. She must be relieved at the firmness, but she's visibly relieved at not being saddled with even a relatively-well-behaved niece, though the kind might chalk it up instead to the K'del/Yvalia reunion. But Tayte wants the knuckle-dragger? Really? "Fine. It's not like it's your fault, though, you didn't stab yourself with a dagger or anything! If you hurt his poor sensitive eyes by not being pretty for once, he'll just have to cope!" only Tayte's thanking her, so she stops, and then there are those tears. Her big sister. Crying. Edging slightly out of the chair, "I'll... I'll get you a handkerchief." Or a towel. Or an armload of towels. "No, it's not--" Tayte starts, and it seems only after Jeyli points out the handkerchief need that the blonde realizes she's crying and she reaches for a rag that was already provided for her, lost in her lap. She rubs it over her face and takes a breath. "It's not about me being pretty. It's about-- the baby. He wanted it. I wanted it. Not at the beginning for me, but now... and he-- was never anything but kind about the baby. Protective of me. He told me to be careful." Not that over-exertion with her knitting needles brought this on or anything. "And now--" The tears again, "Now our baby is dead." It doesn't seem to matter how many times she says it aloud. Each time it's obviously a fresh feeling of the pain and she buries her face in the rag, her shoulders shaking. Each time, there's nothing Jeyli can do. All she can do is be there, at least until the healer comes again. But before then, she'll also promise with new commitment, "I'll find him."
The healer doesn't take long with her work and she holds the curtain aside as she goes. Tayte's had time to compose herself so she isn't crying. She can be strong for her daughter. For her strong daughter. Her arms enfold the child and, for longer than a goodbye necessitates, just holds her, murmuring reassurances. That she loves her. That she'll miss her. That Daddy's going to take good care of her and they'll see each other again soon. She kisses the blonde locks and with K'del's help, they make sure she doesn't accidentally hurt Momma more in her climb down. Tayte's goodbye to K'del includes a grasping of hands, a kiss to her brow, a murmured reassurance for her, and the woman's instructions for where to find the key to her room at High Reaches so they can get proper 'Reaches night attire for Vali and anything else she needs. It will mean a trip to her dwelling here, but Vali knows the way, or Zeizath can show Cadejoth. And then they're gone, and she's alone, left with one last goodbye. The only one that is truly final, and the hardest one of all. |
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