Logs:Older
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| RL Date: 15 July, 2011 |
| Who: Emmeline, Evali, Madilla, Sibella |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Madilla chats about babies and dragons during an evening in the nighthearth. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Cason/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, Jaques/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. Someone has just scrubbed her skin /raw/ to rid herself of the remnants of mucking out and cleaning stables. She like the animals as much as anyone really, but spending hours cleaning up after them does rather make a person feel like a walking, well... yeah. So, baths it was! When she walks in to the nighthearth, pink skin and wet hair give her away. But most of all, the slow drag of limbs that signals a day spent doing manual labor. "Food." she sniffs the air like the stew is actually ambrosia; and obviously, it will be her first stop. Already nestled in one of the overstuffed chairs, Madilla glances up at the sound of Emmeline's voice, tracking the candidate towards the hearth with an expression that speaks of apologetic amusement and genuine sympathy. "You," she says, pitching her voice to carry as far as the other woman but not further, "Sound as though you need nothing more than to curl up into a little ball and collapse for a while. Has it been a terribly long day?" The healer is alone, her lap filled with a multi-coloured quilt currently held together by a multitude of pins: she's sewing at the edge, methodical in her stitches even as she turns her attention towards the candidate. "Ssssshhhhh. My body will hear you and force me to take that suggestion." Emme whispers back at Madilla, even pressing a finger to her lips and then ofering a brief but amused smile. "That does sound lovely, actually. But I still have some studying to do. So, stew. And klah. /Lots/ of klah." she decides, ladling some of the food into a bowl before she does kind of curl up in an empty chair. "Cleaning out stalls today." Her eyes are drawn to the quilt, and even while stuffing her face and thinking of studying /and/ considering sore muscles... she is fascinated. "You make a lot of those?" Evidently, Madilla hasn't quite been managing to keep up with the latest goings on, because her brow furrows at the mention of cleaning out stalls. "I thought you'd Apprenticed?" she asks, sucking her cheeks in thoughtfully. Clearly, stables and harper apprentice does not quite compute. Before waiting for an answer, the healer glances down at her work, running a finger down the fine patterns of her quilt: all curlicues and flower trellises made out of fabric and embroidery. She and Emmeline are both sitting near the hearth, the latter with food, the former quilting steadily. "A few. It's a hobby, I suppose. It keeps me busy." "I had." Emmeline agrees readily, poking through the contents of her stew bowl for her apparent new favorite vegatable. "But then K'del said Cadejoth wanted me to Stand. So, I decided to take the opportunity." she admits, sounding a little hesitant as the words come out. "I can continue my studies after, and... being an apprentice for 10 or more Turns, at my age... I would do it if I had to. I /will/ if I have to. But..." Well, if she doesn't have to then why would she? Her eyes follow the way Madilla traces embroidery outlines, expression turning briefly wistful. "Making beautiful things. That's a nice skill to have." Sibella moves to the Nighthearth from the Living Cavern, bringing her work with her. She carries a pair of connected crocheted baby booties, one still only half-complete. Recognizing Madilla, Sibella settles her billowing form into a nearby chair, looking for all the world like a fowl-hen settling into a nesting box. As if she's been in the conversation the entire time, she peers at Emmeline and cocks her head, saying, "I thought I'd heard that one of the first Searched matched your description." She smiles in congratulation and continues her crochet. At Emmeline's comment, she looks over at Madilla's quilt and chuckles, "That is beautiful. Crochet is about all I can do." Madilla's eyes go wide at the mention of being asked to Stand; it would be difficult to miss the hint of envy in her expression, for all that she pushes it aside to smile and say, "Congratulations, Emmeline. It's an honour, to be asked. I wish you every success with it." The sentiment even seems genuine: by the end of it, that envy is all gone. Flushing, she adds, her gaze slipping from Emmline towards Sibella - who gets a nod of greeting - and then back, she adds, "I've always thought so. Practical /and/ useful. Do you sew at all, Emmeline?" And, to Sibella, "I can't crochet for the life of me. Or knit. It all just... tangles. I gave up trying, eventually." "Most of the exiles are going to be asked to Stand whether prompted by a dragon or not, from what I gather. Many don't want to though." Emmeline admits, a bit of guilt seeping in for that flash of envy she sees. "I... thank you." That's to both women, with Sibella being given an extra nod of greeting. "I sew enough to mend clothing. But what we used as needle and thread was far different." It's probably best not to ask, based on her uncomfortable expression. Honestly "So I'm not sure I would trust myself to do more. What does crochet and knit entail? I haven't seen that yet." Fairly squirming with joy to find curiousity in Emmeline, and something that she does better than the capable Madilla, Sibella spreads her hands toward Emmeline. Yarn and needle in one hand and the booties in the other, she grins at Madilla teasingly, "If you hold the needle in one hand and the work in the other, you won't get tangled." The look Sibella gives Madilla borders on sticking her tongue out, and then she turns her attention back to Emmeline, "It's really not very difficult. You just take this loop that's over the needle," - she points - "and then wrap a bit more of yarn around," she does so, "and then pull through the loop. Over and over and over," As she speaks, Sibella does so; over and over and over. "Not nearly as dangerous as needle and thread!" Sibella eyes Madilla's needle as though it were a dangerous dragon. "I know the /theory/ of it," says Madilla, shaking her head, more amused than anything. "But I don't know... I just can't seem to get the hang of it, somehow." To Emmeline, she adds, "Knitting involves two long needles-- my shawl, for example," the one she's wearing over her shoulders, "Was knitted. I suppose you /wouldn't/ have had much opportunity for fancy sewing... if you'd like to learn one day, I'd be happy to teach you." There's a beat, and then, conversationally, "One of my Apprentices was Searched. Lirienne. She's a nice girl; shy. I suppose... Standing must seem very foreign, to your people. I'm glad you're going to give it a try." Emmeline finds Sibella's enthusiasm a little... well, creepy. She glances between both women of course before looking down at the woman's hands as the art of knitting is explained in such easy terms. The girl's eyes follow each movement, even if her accompanying expression is a bit dubious. "Well, it doesn't *seem* difficult. But it looks like you need to have similar tension in each loop or it'd wind up kind of lopsided right?" Squinting at the rows of knitted wool for a moment, a smile of thanks is given. And then, atention to Madilla again. "I see. If I've time at any point I'd be glad to learn both. One of your apprentices? I've probably seen her then, but it's so crowded." The nod of agreement she gives isn't meant to be curt, but may come across as stiff anyway. "It is. Very much so." Sibella chuckles as she looks down at her hands. "Well, perhaps I'm not a very good instructor, since I forget to mention things that just come automatically to seasoned professionals." Pause for preening, then she peers at Madilla for a moment at her return to the subject of the candidates, and then the talk of exiles. Sibella almost elects to remain silent, but can't resist inquiring, "Do you think we'll keep within the normal ages of candidates asked to stand with the exiles? Some of them," She peers warily at Emmeline, trying to tread on eggshells without being so cautious as to be offensive, "Some of /you/ seem so much older than you are." "If you have the time," agrees Madilla, firmly, bending back down over her work, her stitches small and precise though far from perfect. "I know things must be terribly busy for you at the moment. And intense. In a few months... you could be a dragonrider." She lets that thought linger, as much, it seems, for her own thoughts as for Emmeline's. The healer fastens a thoughtful glance upon Sibella before she adds, "I imagine so? You wouldn't want very little ones on the sands, surely, and as people get older... Well. They have more to give up, I think." Firmly said. Very firmly said. "I'm sure the weyr wouldn't want ten-turn-old weyrlings, for example." "I wouldn't say that. I just ask a lot of questions." Emme reassures, giving Sibella an encouraging smile. "And I'm sure they will keep to the traditional ages. The reason we seem older is because we've had a hard life. We had to always fight to survive. It matures people, apparently." Making it all the more difficult for them to fit in to the Weyr of course. "Yes, you understand Madilla. And I suppose in a few months I could. But I'm trying not to get my hopes up like some do. I think that might be too much for me to handle." is admitted, frankly. Some of the exiles seem older; there is at least one who does not. Evali, waifish still despite having been fed up, moving as if she is a boat at sea constantly with the way she tends to sway, hair falling everywhere in messy waves -- she is just recently twenty, but by looking at her or listening to her, no one would guess. She sneaks into the nighthearth, stopping at the entrance -- because she sees Madilla and Emmeline, and not purely strangers, she stays there. The former Harper gets the tiniest hint of a smile. If a little disappointed with Madilla's answer, Sibella shows it only with a downward twitch of her lips and the disappearance of a dimple. Inwardly, she chastises herself for the feeling; wanting the exile children to be part of the Weyr is no justification for wanting them to take on such heavy responsibility so early. At the entrance of a young woman, either an exile or a recently Searched drudge - Sibella can't be sure, by the waifish looks of the girl - Sibella casts a glance her way, then holds it, smiling cheerfully. There seems to be some recognition in Evali's smile toward Sibella's companions, so Sibella looks to them to invite the girl over, continuing the conversation casually. "Oh, it is a bit of a disappointment. But then, to see your companions Impress brings some sweet to the bitter. It's a learning experience, in any case." She nods, confirming her own feelings on the matter. Madilla's cheeks flush, as though she's imagining the feeling of being left behind, and the hurt that might be involved in that; she gives a hurried nod, glancing from one woman to the other as she asks, "Does that mean you've Stood before, Sibella? I don't think I knew that." Evali's arrival draws her attention away: she waves the girl closer, saying, firmly, "Come and join us, Evali. We were talking about Emmeline's candidacy - whether she'll Impress or not. Have you met Sibella?" She adds, then, as she goes back to her sewing, smoothing out the border she's attaching to the quilt, "I'm sure you'll be fine, Emmeline. Whatever happens." In an unusual turn, Emme's smile brightens considerably when Evali shows up in the doorway. And despite being the younger of the two she stands up to literally make sure Evali walks over to a chair to sit down. "The stew is great. Want some?" she wonders, pausing by the hearth for that. Ok, and for seconds for herself. She was -hungry-. "I'm sure it is a learning experience. But then, every day is a learning experience here." the harper girl decides. "I'll have my craft, regardless. And my friends." There's a thoughtful, hesitant look at the stew, and then Evali says, just as thoughtfully and hesitantly, "All right." Sibella gets a glance that is not a tiny smile, but is not really anything more negative than neutral, either. "I have not," she says, finally, and offers up, "I'm Evali," as if this wasn't obvious. More importantly, she contributes, "My grandfather wishes us all to Stand and make homes for ourselves. You are doing as he wishes, Emme. It's what is right." Turning physically toward Madilla, Sibella shrugs to emphasize the casual-ness of the matter to her, a matter long past and thus, long-numbed. "Yes, I did Stand. Though it was a long while back. Both my Mum and Da were dragonriders, and actually rather a part of my childhood, and I'd always wanted to be like them." She makes a sweeping gesture, as though to encompass the entire Weyr, "But this isn't so bad. Just being part of the Weyr and supporting our Riders. I do love my home and our people." At 'our people' she looks at Emme as though to clearly include the exiles. With Madilla's bit to Emmeline, Sibella nods her agreement; "You will certainly be fine," she states in a tone as firm as Madilla's usual one. To Evali, Sibella casts a querulous gaze. She has encountered the 'it is what is right' attitude in one previous exile, and that was not a pleasant memory. However, this girl seems to be quiet and sane enough, so Sibella gives Evali one of her best beams, complete with dimples. "It's a pleasure, Evali. I adore your name, love." Whatever else Madilla was going to say is swept out of the way: the healer focuses upon Evali, silent for several long moments before she asks, in a tone that is deceptively casual, "Does that mean you'll be asking to Stand, Evali?" Her expression is largely unreadable, but she's stopped sewing, which has to mean /something/. Emmeline does catch the little things. And that includes the look she receives from Sibella that's meant to be inclusive; it brings another smile to her lips. Though she makes no verbal comment on it. Just the quiet acknowledgement and bit of gratitude. "I spoke with Jaques recently, and Cason wants more of us to Stand as well." she murmurs, handing Evali a bowl of stew and then encouraging her to try it with a bit of a nod. "I think he and your grandfather are right. I hope some of the others see it as well. Even if we all have our own, more personal, reasons for wanting to Stand also." Seeming interested in what the anser will be, there's a quick look up at Madilla and then back at her fellow exile. Even more tentatively than she speaks, Evali samples the stew -- slowly at first, eyes closed, taking in the taste. Her verdict is offered in a word that perhaps Emmeline might have been expecting and anyone else might be confused by: "The mud by the riverbank, it's like." Her synaesthetic explanations of taste have picked up ever since that first glass of wine. "It is fine. I --" Madilla's question gives her pause. "Am not sure. I will have to speak to the gold's rider." Sibella silently cheers Madilla for pushing a subject wherein Sibella hadn't dared to tread, she holds her gaze on Evali, softening the steady look with an equally constant smile. With Emmeline's two-bits, Sibella's smile turns to her. "You all have made a home for yourselves here, regardless, I'm sure. From what I've seen, you've all helped to improve the quality of life here at the Weyr; both in your presence and your hard work." The smile turns to something that could be construed as grateful. With Evali's startling... simile? Sibella's eyes widen, then, in answer to the answer, "So that means you will. indeed, ask to Stand? Do you /want/ to?" This last seems more important to her than the former question. Whatever Madilla thinks of Evali's description of her food, she keeps it from showing in her expression. She keeps, too, from showing her reaction to Evali's answer to her question, leaving her silence to linger - Sibella's question does as well as any of hers could have. Instead, she nods: just once. And then, to Sibella, "I didn't mind to ignore your answer; I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't Impress. Perhaps you'll have another opportunity? As I understand it, the weyrbred can ask to Stand as easily as the islanders can." "That's kind of you, Sibella. But most of us continue to feel disconnected or isolated in many respects. And some would dearly love to leave the Weyr." Emmeline admits, her shoulders lifting. Evali's description of the stew brings a good laugh out of her, as she tries to explain. "It is the consistency of the mud. Sure doesn't taste like it though." she amends, hopefully. "Do you, Evali? Want to Stand? In the end, I think that should decide for you. Maybe you should talk to your brother, too." That last is murmured, more as an encouragement to her then anything else. "/He/ wants me to." Evali can at least answer as to what Devaki wants -- that's been made clear. Generally what Viremi wants, Devaki wants. "And I --" Silence. She looks down at her lap, starts picking at her skirt with her fingers. It takes some time for her to actually get back to speaking. "Haven't considered it. But it is up to their mother, I will speak to her when the time is right." Finished with picking at her skirt, she keeps eating -- it seems that Evali does /like/ mud. Sibella waves at Madilla's suggestion in quick dismissal, then pauses to offer an explanation, "I'll soon be too old - certainly by the time the next Hatching comes around. It'd be too much disappointment to bear, I'd think, to Stand on what I know will be my last chance, and then to not Impress." Her lip gives a quirk, saying that she doesn't quite feel that she /doesn't/ want to Stand. Her mouth opens to add something to her list of negatory answers when Evali begins to speak about her brother, then stops. Trying not to push too hard, but gently nudging with her voice and demeanor, Sibella adds her piece quietly, "My dear, it shouldn't matter what anyone else wants. Should you Stand and the dragon wants /you/ it is only fair that you should want /it./" Madilla's nod is a slow and careful one. "I understand," she says to Sibella, with a certain something to her tone that suggests she has a pretty good idea of it. But most of her attention is taken up by Evali, Emmeline - the group of them. She bites at her lip for several seconds before she puts in, "I don't believe anyone can Impress and not want their dragon. I know-- W'chek didn't really want to Impress. Didn't /intend/ to." But, presumably, still loves his dragon. Gently, she adds, then, "Evali's not a child. I'm sure she'll make the decision for herself. She'll-- talk to the Weyrwoman. Whatever you want to do, Evali." Beat. "When the time is right." Emmeline seems willing to accept what Evali says without any further push. But that's mostly because she knows the other girl well enough to realize that now probably isn't the time or place to wrangle out nuance and detail from her. "Whatever you decide. I'll support you on it." she offers, lips thinning a bit as Sibella pushes. And she's even all prepared to say something in defense of the island widwife's reasoning when Madilla speaks up. It also offers a nice opening to sibtly shift the topic away from who is going to Stand, to the dragons themselves. "We haven't learned much about the bond yet. I find it interesting how tight it apparently is, right from the very beginning. That instant of impression. I would love to know how that works." Evali has decided, from now on, that she is just going to hide behind eating. Madilla gets a /very/ grateful look as she backs up Evali's firm decision to not actually say anything about it at all. She only watches as the others discuss, adding nothing helpful but a headtilt when Emmeline speaks of knowing how things work. "Perhaps it cannot be explained," she offers softly, "as no one, so far, has." In return, Madilla gives Evali an encouraging smile, though she's quick to hazard, "I'm not sure anyone really knows for certain how it works. It's just-- they say you know each other, instantly. I suppose when a dragon is in your head, they can see everything you are?" She rethreads her needle carefully, exchanging red thread for blue, and shifts the quilt so that she can move on to another section. "It sounds amazing, though, doesn't it? That someone could love you that much, that instantly. I think you have to work at the bond, though. Some people seem to have a tighter bond than others." "True. But you know how much I do enjoy digging until I get as close to the truth as I possibly can." Emme jokes, taking in the information Madilla gives them in somewhat the same manner that a sponge soaks up water. "It really does. It sounds kind of unreal, honestly. A little better knowing you have to work at it though. If something is that worth having, you should need to work for it." Ah, such an exile-work-ethic thing to say. She seems to realize now that she has that second bowl of food to consume, and stats in on it slowly. "Unreal." Evali gives Emmeline a very deadpan look; or insofar as Evali can really do that, with all her expressions lined with some sort of funny, ethereal innocence. "Emme, there are such things as /dragons/. Is that not unreal enough on its own?" Madilla has to bite back her own laughter. "Even back where I'm from, we knew about dragons and had seen them from afar," she has to allow. "But that doesn't stop the whole thing from seeming--" She'd probably say 'magical', if she knew the word. Instead, she settles for, "Amazing. I'm sure the riders would also as many of your questions as they could, Emmeline. I'm sure you've asked already, though." Emmeline makes a face at Evali for stating the obvious. Or at least, the obvious to anyone who grew up on the Island. "I concede the point." she decides, holding p a hand in surrender. "But I think I'm going to fall asleep in my stew bowl soon, even though I wanted to study. I should probably head back to the barracks." Pause. "Evali, are you staying?" Evali is caught between the rock and the hard place of having to either stay with people she hasn't known their entire lives (as there were about three turns, there, where /she/ didn't know Emmeline) or having to get up and leave. Neither seem to be a particularly good option. "For a minute," she finally decides on. Heretofore silent, Sibella allows herself a relieved smile that Evali had not decided to flee. Regretful of being so forward with the girl, Sibella stands and ladles herself a bowl of the edibles that she had only hours ago stewed herself. Returning to her seat, she takes up some more casual line of talk regarding the Hatching; "So what do you think of that Gold Egg?" She asks, to neither of her companions in particular. "Rather... odd one, don't you think? Which might be expected, us having three already!" "Have a good night," says Madilla, genuinely, tipping her head up so that she can smile at Emmeline. "Sleep well." The healer adjusts her quilt again, turning her attention towards Evali, so that she can smile at the other woman - it's evidently intended as an encouragement. "I suppose," she allows, to Sibella. "It /does/ seem surprising, that we would have another. But I'm sure the dragons know best." "Alright. See you later, then." Emme's hand brushes Evali's shoulder supportively, giving the girl a quick smile before she nods a goodnight to the others. "You too.", and then heads into the kitchen to drop off her bowl before leaving. "I -- did hear it was unusual." Evali is trying this conversation thing! She really, really is. It's not easy, and she keeps mostly making eye contact with her stew or the ceiling. "Is it a problem? Is there not space? There is something wrong with not having mothers? I think it is sad, the green ones cannot be mothers." Grinning at Evali's effort, Sibella hides it with a spoonful of stw. She tucks a ringlet of hair behind her ear, saying, "Oh, no, it's not exactly a /problem./ However, in the scheme of things the politics may get a bit sketchy." Cautiously, Sibella makes an attempt at exile allegory, "Sort of like one Council Member having more of the food or clothing than another. Wouldn't that make the other Council Members jealous or angry?" Sibella winces, always afraid that she's showing her ignorance. At Evali's mournful tidbit about the greens, the woman almost bursts into laughter. "The greens - and this is by ancient hearsay, mind you - could lay if they didn't chew firestone. Apparently they'd only be small dragonets, and never a Bronze or Gold. However, I'm not sure if you've noticed during your stay, but," Sibella giggles, "We'd be overrun in no time if they did lay!" "There are supply issues, too. We don't want to be overrun with dragons," and Madilla indicates Sibella as she says that, though her expression is dubious: greens laying? /Really/? "And having four producing golds is far more than we need, during the Interval. Not as bad as a weyr full of producing greens, but... The holds won't increase our tithes because we have more dragons." It seems to make her slightly uncomfortable; she glances vaguely in the direction of the door before glancing back and adding, "I feel sorry for the greens, too, though. Imagine not being /able/ to be a mother. Female, but not..." She shakes her head, one arm hooking around her mid-section almost protectively for all that it obscures her work. "Yes." Evali's tone is soft, as she unpurses the lips that had been pursed upon Madilla's last statement. "I could not. And I have never been, myself, a mother, but I have helped so many -- this is why it is your Weyrwoman I would speak to. She would tell me, I hope, if their mother deemed me suitable; I would take no one else's opinion." Deeming this a fair evaluation, Sibella nods her agreement with Evali's explantion - glad to have a further one without having to be quite so pushy. To both of the women, she says, "I think I have quite enough children running about, thanks, without having to claim any of them as my own." At this, Sibella suddenly gives Evali a very thoughtful look, still quite desirous of adopting all of the exile orphans. This is left unsaid; it seems to create quite a rile in any of the exiles she'd spoken to previously of it. Unaware of any thoughts Sibella might still be harbouring, Madilla lets a small, wistful sigh escape, and says, only, "That seems like a wise thing, Evali. A mother knows these things, I'm sure of it. It's-- there's something about it. A child that came from /your/ body." A little bit wistful? Try a /lot/ wistful. "But I suppose not every woman wants a baby," with a quick nod, "and perhaps greens simply don't think of the loss? If they're not built that way. I don't know." "True," Evali is willing to concede, though it doesn't make much sense to her. Her stew gone, though, and her ability to socialize near exhausted, she stands to replace her bowl. "I should be going -- it was good to speak with you both," she says, and at least she is telling the truth there: she wouldn't say it if she hadn't even /mildly/ enjoyed it. Having not meant to begin such a deep discussion, Sibella tries to turn the tide back to subjects... less so. Although, as she opens her mouth, Evali begins to take her leave, so Sibella gives a wave and a grin. "It was a delight to meet you, Evali!" As Evali makes her exit, Sibella turns back to Madilla, "I suppose sometimes I do feel like a green," she giggles, "All the fun and none of the laying and hatching and..." Well, now she's taken the analogy a tad too far, so she pulls it back. "All that dragonet rearing." Another little giggle. "Good night, Evali," says Madilla, calling her words after the departing islander. Once she's gone, her attention falls back to Sibella, for all that her gaze is mostly focused upon her sewing. "Do you? I like other people's children, but there's something... /special/ about having your own, somehow. I don't know. I'd like another one." She's all wistful again. "One day." Sibella tilts her head a bit at Madilla. "Another one? Oh! How old is he... she?" Madilla's concentration on her quilt reminds Sibella of her own work, who then returns to it, needle and yarn looping and pulling, looping and pulling. "I suppose, with all the talk, it must be wonderful. Perhaps I'll give it a go," She teases. "She. She's three. Lilabet. Lily." Madilla's cheeks have gone pink for some reason - perhaps it's related to the expression of utter love that has fallen in upon her features. "It /is/ wonderful. I suppose it isn't right for everyone, but... for me, it was the best thing that ever happened to me, having Lily." An odd expression, one henceforth unknown to Sibella, overtakes her features. One of... sentimental longing? Perhaps. It feels like something quite near that. Sibella observes Madilla's tender, loving reverie-like expression and wonders if perhaps it truly /is/ all that and a clutch of Golds. "Lilabet is a beautiful name. She must be a beautiful little girl, and it seems she's very well-loved." Sibella continues to crochet, looking at her cast-aside bowl of stew longingly. So much for that longing. Madilla looks a little self-conscious and ducks her head awkwardly; "She is. I think so, anyway. I'm sorry; I shouldn't gush like that. It's one of those terrible habits parents always seem to have." She manages a smile, though, and adds, "Perhaps you'll have one of your own, one day. If you want to. In a weyr-- it's not so difficult. Or so I keep telling myself, anyway." Sibella gives Madilla the benefit of the doubt, on that one. "I've been through plenty of births and been in the lower caverns enough to know how... difficult children and all things entailed can be." She clucks, "And many that want nothing to do with their get - now there's something that I couldn't do." She shakes her head in sheer awe of these sorts, having no compassion for wanting a life free from children - heh. When Sibella catches herself stifling a yawn into the baby booties, she looks up at Madilla sheepishly. "Madilla, it's truly been lovely to be able to speak to you without needing some babying of my own, but now I'm as sleepy as a... I'm plain tired." Sibella grins, dimpling, and another yawn almost escapes. Sibella stands, gathering her booties and her bowl, then begins to walk back in the direction of the kitchens. Madilla offers a fond smile. "Of course. I ought to be heading off to pick up Lily, myself, before too much longer. It was nice talking to you, Sibella." She follows the other woman's departure with her gaze, letting it linger in that direction for several moments after she's out of sight before she turns back to her work; she looks... content. |
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