Logs:He Told Me
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| RL Date: 5 April, 2010 |
| Who: Madilla, W'chek |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: W'chek comes to visit Madilla. |
| Where: Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 5, Turn 22 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
| Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr There's something undeniably cozy about this little room off the resident quarters, making it comfortable despite its small size. To the left of the door is a small wooden table with two chairs, the wood covered with a piece of rich, creamy fabric matched in the patchwork cushions set tidily on each chair. A lopsided red vase sits in the middle of the table, usually filled with brightly coloured flowers. To the right of the door, in the far corner, is the narrow bed, made with fresh linens and covered with an oversized quilt designed out of patches of cream, blue and red. A wooden press sits at the end of it, and, just beyond that, several hooks in the wall provide hanging space. A battered, sagging couch sits in the other corner, its tattered fabric mostly covered with another quilt. A few baskets of glows light the little room, but, otherwise, the walls are bare. Early evening finds Madilla in her room, but only barely: damp-haired, she busies herself putting away bathing supplies, and hanging up the workday's clothes. As she shakes out her work skirt in lieu of an actual clean, she even /hums/, albeit tunelessly, perhaps even just barely loud enough to be heard from the otherside of the closed wooden door. Early evening is supposed to find W'chek anywhere but here. That has been the rule for awhile, now, hasn't it? Avoidance. He's good at avoidance. The knock at the door could be anyone, really, anyone at all, but the names on the list of people it could be include most of the Weyr before they include W'chek. Until that list gets made a lot shorter with a familiar voice: "Madilla? You there?" Perhaps she was loud enough to be heard. Perhaps this is an escape route. For someone. That humming continues after the knock, acommpanied by the sound of footsteps; both stop suddenly, however, as W'chek identifies himself. It takes several seconds before the footsteps resume, followed, finally, by the opening of the door, Madilla's pale face appearing in the (somewhat small) gap she makes between it and the wall. "W'chek?" Obvious, open, unquestionable surprise echoes in her voice. That, and a distinct measure of uncertainty. Patient silence outside the door until it opens; W'chek is there, leaning against the wall just outside, pushing away just as the face appears at the door. "Hey," is all he can muster at first, awkward greeting, hands going into his pockets. Then: "I, uh..." Whatever was supposed to come after that, he can't seem to remember what the words were. Madilla is silent, big eyes on the bronzerider for several more seconds before she pushes the door open wider, apparently inviting him in. That she's wary-- well, that's obvious in the way she moves, in the way she sits, so very primly, on one of the chairs at the patchwork-covered table. Only once she's seated does she say, slowly, "You look well." At least W'chek finally remembers some vocabulary: "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. How are you?" Language. It's a wonderful thing to have. He steps in after her, has a glance around, takes himself the other chair, sits down in it like he's afraid it might collapse under his weight. "He told me," finally, practically out of nowhere, with a heavy sigh afterwards as though releasing a great burden. He may be forgiven for omitting details of the event aside from that, right? We can safely assume that Madilla would not want to know the details of that event, oh yes. Her eyes are trained on W'chek, her blinks so rare as to make that big-eyed watchfulness perhaps a little too intense. A swallow marks her intent to speak, and then, finally, "I don't want to hurt you. If-- you're not okay with it, I won't push." It must take a lot for her to offer even that much: on her lap, her hands tense, fingers twisting into the fabric of her skirt. Certainly, W'chek has a lot of trouble meeting her eyes. He folds his hands on the table, seems to take a great interest in them, starts picking at his cuticles in a way he really shouldn't. "No, I'm not h--it's okay." He can't seem to actually go that far. "It is okay. But he has... certain ideas as to how this is going to work out that I would prefer you disabused him of now. You don't want me involved." He sounds very, very sure of that. "I would like you to tell him that before he goes on thinking that this is going to be a... big happy family thing. That's all." Finally he manages to look up, plaster on a smile. "Then it'll all be fine." Perhaps Madilla hasn't been doing much thinking about the practicalities of all of this, because she seems genuinely surprised by what W'chek says, her jaw dropping slightly open before she rights it, pressing her lips together. She doesn't look convinced, though, not by that plastered smile, and not by the assurances the bronzerider offers. "I don't--" she begins, then breaks off. "You want... me to tell your weyrmate that I don't want you to have anything to do with his child?" Deep breath. "He didn't... believe me, when I told him," W'chek explains, slowly. He licks his lips, finally stops picking at his hands, squeezes them together firmly to resist the urge to do so again. "I realize you don't think much of me, anymore. Maybe... you never should have. But I'm not going to get in the way of this. I know it's important for you." Maybe Madilla wasn't incredulous enough, with that question of hers. She looks-- lost, now, and has to close her eyes and take a deep breath before she can respond. "I still care about you, you know," she says, then. Which doesn't really answer any of this. "I just-- I don't know, W'chek." "It's all right." W'chek's shoulders square a bit at that, posture straightening just enough to be noticeable. "It didn't work out. This... is a better plan. He's... probably too sweet for his own good." Which might sound vaguely menacing, given everything that has passed before, but it comes out wistful. "He'll be good at it. I mean, I guess you know that. If you two agreed--well. Anyway." Dully; "And you'll spend the rest of your life watching him with his son or daughter, knowing..." Madilla breaks off, shaking her head, eyes big again. "That's not fair. For us to do that to you. I should have thought about that sooner." Wringing her hands in her lip, she shakes her head again: no, no, no. No tears yet, but, well-- wait for it. "Knowing I made my own bed, Madilla." Calm, now, but what can he offer for comfort? W'chek isn't the man who can do that, anymore. "World's not fair. It's not the least I'm owed for... everything." For his laundry list of sins. Let it never be said W'chek is one who doesn't know what he's done. He could probably write up a list longer than anybody. "There will never be anybody else I can say I trust the way I trust him. Straighten this out and it all goes like clockwork." Because everybody wants having a baby to be like clockwork, right? "I didn't want to have to ask you, but--like I said, I tried to tell him." Madilla's shaking head continues to say it: no, no, no. Perhaps it's even more fervent, now, as he speaks, though she doesn't voice it. "I don't know," she says finally, in a voice that shakes quietly. "I don't want to be the bad guy. I don't want... I don't know. I still don't want to hurt you." Leaning forward, one of W'chek's hands makes it about a third of the way across the table before he stops it. Still can't quite make that reach. "You have never done a thing wrong. Not in this. Don't know as I could say you'd ever done a thing wrong ever. You're a good person." Then, more firmly, "You are not giving up your happiness for the sake of my comfort. That would be..." Pause. "Well, that would be ridiculous." Madilla watches that hand, but makes no move to meet it with her own; if he can't make the reach, neither can she, though probably for different reasons. "I don't /want/ my happiness to mean someone else's unhappiness, W'chek. I don't-- maybe you're right. Maybe not. I have to think about it. I have to see. Please don't..." She shakes her head. Never mind? Or something. "What I need to be happy, Madilla, I have. All I need." It's really too bad that W'chek's weyrmate isn't here to hear that one, the sudden warmth in it. The smile, if small, that for once is really there. "Comfort. I can deal with discomfort. Pretty sure babies usually mean discomfort of some variety or another. And maybe someday--" Deep breath, he starts to push himself up to standing. "Well, flights happen, all that." There's a softening of Madilla's expression, and even her shoulders, at that warmth: there's no question that she genuinely believes that, and is encouraged by it. Whatever she thinks about... other facets of that relationship. "I'm glad you're happy," she murmurs, genuinely. "And I hope-- I /do/ hope things work out. Everything. I do." "Everything will be fine." W'chek may have more confidence about this than is entirely warranted. "If you're... really not wanting to talk to him, I guess I can try again. I suspect, being weyrbred, that he wouldn't think it at all unusual for a child's parents to consist of three unrelated adults, a cow and someone's left boot." It's a joke, accompanied by an attempt at a grin that only just barely falls short. "But you'd probably do better than me." Madilla gives a careful nod to W'chek's first remark, and a long pause to the second. "I like that weyrchildren have so many parental figures," is her murmured remark, followed by a shake of the head. "Perhaps not the boots. I'll talk to him. We'll-- work something out." The murmur seems not to really register, as W'chek starts for the door. "Great. Yeah. You'll talk to him, all will be well. Fantastic." He doesn't really look at her again, but pauses in the doorway, gives another glance around the room. "You're starting to look so settled in here. It's nice. So much more homey than when you first got promoted." A hint of that old self in it. Paternal. "See you... later, I guess." Madilla stays where she is, hands pressed into her lap, feet flat on the floor. Her head tips up, though, as W'chek compliments the room: she smiles brightly for it. "Thank you; I like it, too." There's a pause, and then, a firm nod. "I hope so. Have a good evening, W'chek. I hope you had a nice turnday." She remembered! There's a slight delay. "Nice. Yeah." Then W'chek smiles once more, now starting to get the hang of it just as he finally turns and makes his exit, back out into the caverns. Madilla seems satisfied with this answer, and watches him go. She's even - mostly - smiling. Well. That's an improvement. |
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