Logs:Law and Order
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 12 November, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Madilla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Madilla checks up on Brieli, but has no more solutions - unless one counts the possibility of dream-free sleep. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 3, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings. Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. Snow, snow, snow. How much snow can one place get? High Reaches is particularly windy and awful today, which makes the caverns busy; the living cavern isn't packed just after lunch, but there's certainly folk lingering as long as possible if their plans for the day take them back outside. And showing the Weyr she's certainly not worried about eating what comes from the kitchens is Brieli, at a table on her own with the remains of her meal. Nearby is a quiet card game, oddly quiet for dragonriders and cards. It's entirely possible the goldrider is trying to listen in, but she doesn't seem quite as alert as usual, sharp glances dulled from lack of sleep and worry that draws fine brows together. She's not the only one. It's not unusual for the healers to take their meals at off-times, the before-or-after syndrome that leaves them available when others have a break from their duties. Madilla has her own brand of tiredness, carried about her shoulders like a weary blanket, but none of that prevents her from gathering up a plate of food out of the leftovers, and meandering out into the sea of tables. It's deliberate - it must be deliberate - that she ends up alongside Brieli a few moments later, ignoring the card-players in lieu of asking, in a quiet voice, "Do you need solitude, Brieli, or would some company help? You look tired." Usually, Brieli might notice someone approaching her table, but it takes her moments longer that it might - until Madilla's nearly upon the table - to notice the healer there. Looking up with a brief, wry smile, "Who isn't tired? Things are not precisely... settled." That brings her brows together again as she picks up her fork to poke at what's left. "I don't mind company, though. I appreciate your help, so far. All of the Healers." That's sincere enough, even as she pokes holes in a remaining tuber. With another glance, perhaps noting the other woman's on weariness, "How are you?" Madilla is silently watchful as Brieli replies, her brow wrinkled in concentration and consideration. The right corner of her mouth twists up at that question, but it's not until she's settled herself opposite the goldrider that she'll admit, "It's all bringing back terrible memories. The death of a Weyrwoman is-- always difficult. And this is worse, of course. I can't imagine your burdens, now. But you will say, if you need anything?" Not the Weyr. Brieli. Although her plate is set down in front of her, she doesn't yet seem ready to pick up her fork; instead, her expression is one of unashamed scrutiny. For terrible memories, Brieli has a quirk of lips, noting to her plate and Madilla both, "I imagine it's difficult to remember the good ones, given the terrible as often as they come. It's certainly difficult. The entire situation is difficult." She'd say more, but it's the living cavern after all; Madilla's likely aware of the healer reports. The goldrider leaves it to a significant glance, before, "It's not what you sign up for, but I suppose it's expected. I just... didn't expect to have these concerns so soon." Despite her capable demeanor, something about the conversation, or those burdens leave her seeming terribly young; not yet twenty. The scrutiny is ignored as always, but she'll admit slowly, "I can't stop seeing her. But I don't think there's much to be done about that." It's less a nod than a tiny tip of the head, just a few degrees, that confirms Brieli's remarks: Madilla knows of what the other woman speaks. Indeed, with Delifa's ill health taking its toll, there must be more than one new burden on Madilla's shoulders. Quietly, "I don't suppose many of us expect such things, ever. You're doing a good job, Brieli. I don't know of anyone who would argue against that. It will get better. Things will settle down. But," now she does reach for her fork, clutching it between her fingers though she doesn't yet lower it towards her food, "I know that doesn't help now. Have you been sleeping?" "We... we try to anticipate as much as we can. Iesaryth and I. I feel like... there were signs, just not of how far it might go." Brieli sounds somewhat guilty about that, as if interpreting them correctly were part of her job, as if she might have done something. Looking over to Madilla with some little appreciation for the encouragement - no matter whether she actually believes that or not - "It'll be better when we resolve it. Thank you, though. It's all been something of a surprise, how... easily it comes." She might lie better than most, but it's hard to buy her shrug, the nonchalant, "Here and there. Not well, but." Madilla's methodical efforts with her food - chopping it all up into bite-sized pieces - seems as much something to make her appear relaxed and casual as an actual effort to get her food ready for waiting. "Not everything can be anticipated," she says, quietly, with a certain solemn sadness. "Please don't blame yourself. It was the work of-- madmen, perhaps. Zealots." She pauses in her efforts to look across the table at the other woman, considering her with concern. "I'm going to have something set over, something to help you sleep. Please don't argue. You won't be the first to need it." "Zealots." Brieli echoes that thoughtfully, after eating the tuber she'd been poking at, even cold - at least from the state of her plate, she's eating. It makes her furrow her brows, glance around the cavern as if she could pick them out. Maybe she can. "What does one do about believers, and can it ever be just one person, if it's a cause? I don't know." She tries to offer a reassuring smile, for all that's not comforting at all. And though she doesn't argue, her expression is wary. "Maybe not sent. Maybe I'll come, just in case." Not that it's Madilla she doesn't trust. Likely, anyway. Not that the goldrider is sending rumbles of discontent through the Weyr, either. There's a look of aghast horror from Madilla as she registers what she's said; her follow-up is hasty, "Yes, I suspect that would be better. Or I could bring it myself. I pass your way on my way home, after all." More or less. She may have rushed to make comment on that, but the other doesn't escape her consideration, either, even if she pauses to take a careful bite - and chew methodically - before making her reply. "I don't know either," she admits, seriously. "Causes are-- they have a way of instilling blindness. It would be easy for them to - to create martyrs, I suppose. But there is a difference between having the freedom to believe something, and actually acting on it. That's why we have law." Wryly, "I don't actually think anyone would... But." Brieli has some dark humor about her for Madilla's follow-up, possibly the whole situation. "I wonder if there's some way to trace that, though. Maybe people have to sign out before delivering something. Certainly not foolproof, but the kitchens can't be off-limits for all time." Though, without visitors and pilfering, the kitchens are still running efficiently enough, even with fewer staff. Her gaze had drifted that way; turning back to the healer, she's considering all that soberly. Slowly, "Yes. I think you're right." There's something a little sad about that, but; "Order, I suppose. Law is... not the same all over. But we have something. Threats to established order did this. Likely. But all of this is a threat to order itself. It makes my head hurt, frankly." "But I would hate for us to be wrong," says Madilla, aiming for light for all that there's no escaping the seriousness in her expression. "Not foolproof, and potentially unwieldy, but... a sensible precaution, I think. I've talked to some of the girls. They seem desperate to prove that they can be trusted." It's a pity, her expression suggests, but there's too much steeliness there to imply that she would disagree with precautions. "It could go on forever," she agrees. "If a stop isn't put to it. It can't work that way. We have to be able to acknowledge that not liking something does not give us the right to change it by force. It just-- it can't work that way." Her smile is rueful. "I don't envy you any of this." Brieli has to nod at that. "We can't really afford that, I think. And it's good that there's that interest in being trusted, trustworthy. Those will be the ones we'll want back at it as soon as possible. I suppose I'll speak to the Headwoman about rearranging the way things work in the kitchens." Another mental note to make, something else to remember. With a glance over to Madilla, again thoughtful, "I think that is important. To make that part of whatever statement we end up with. However we make it." She has a mirror of the healer's smile in return, though hers is a touch darker. "It's no less than what I asked for," she says, without bitterness or regret, but something else lingers. Gathering her dishes, "I should check in with the staff about dinner, see if they're going to manage. I-- I'll see you this evening, I guess." Not that she's promised to take anything they make her yet, but it's a start. Madilla's silence lasts a beat or two too long. Slowly, she says, "I don't think it's possible to truly understand what you're getting yourself into, sometimes, until you are in it. As you said yourself, you didn't foresee this." But she'll give Brieli a solemn nod and confirm, "Until this evening." Healer-on-duty Madilla, later tonight, will have no small amount of efficient determination involved in doing everything she can to make sure Brieli gets that sleep. And if not tonight? Tomorrow is another day. The goldrider's reaction to that, as she stands, takes a moment or two too long in return, but as she moves off, quietly, "You might be right." Brieli will nod in return, all brisk efficiency, as if their discussion had been all business. "See you then." Later on, after dinner, Brieli's not the best patient in the world, but is that really a shock? But if Madilla's fairly sure that she won't dream, well then. That might be worth paranoid worrying about waking up in the morning over. |
Leave A Comment