Logs:Different Kinds of Complicated
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| RL Date: 11 June, 2009 |
| Who: B'tal, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and B'tal chat over dinner, and make each other uncomfortable, though not so much that they leave things badly. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 12, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Milani/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| 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. It's evening and everything else is out of the way for now so B'tal is in the living cavern. He's not sitting with any other weyrlings present, however, but at a smaller table with an opened up table clock and a bag resting against a leg of his chair. He has a plate of food, too, but he hasn't eaten much by the looks of it, concentrating as he is on what he's doing. And that would appear to be taking the clock apart. Exactly what prompts Madilla - with a full plate and a single book in hand - to select B'tal's table over any other, is hard to know. Perhaps it's just that his is more empty than most of the others. Regardless, it's in that direction that the healer trends, setting her plate down at the other end, followed by her book, and then, finally, sinking into the seat. Though the book gets flipped open, and her fork gets lifted, the movement of the weyrling's efforts with the clock appear to catch her gaze, and she pauses: "Are you going to make it tick again?" The weyrling doesn't look up when someone joins the table and it even takes him a moment to process that the question was offered in his general direction. B'tal glances up and over at Madilla, blank, down at the clock, then, "Oh. Yeah. That's the idea." His hands linger as they'd been when he looked at the healer, but he seems to have lost his train of thought in what he was doing, so he looks her way again. "It's Milani's." "And I've interrupted you," Madilla surmises, sounding apologetic, and echoing the sentiment in the way her head dips forward. "I'm sorry. I was just curious: I've never really seen a clock up close, before." Her hand rests upon the pages of her book, whilst the other hovers mid-air above her food; she looks caught between the two, apparently still deciding whether it would be rude to start eating, now that there's - some kind of, at least - conversation. "Oh, nono. You're fine," B'tal is quick to say and the small smile he offers edges toward reassuring. He reaches down into his bag for his journal and asks as he opens it to find the page he's looking for, "You're W'chek's girl, aren't you?" Conversational and curious, even though he probably already knows the answer. He finds the page and glances over at her again, uncertainly, "Don't let me keep you from eating." Madilla hesitates a moment more, but seems to be soothed by the reassurance, not to mention the encouragement to eat. So, her fork dips towards her meal, and, flushing pinkly, she agrees. "Madilla. W'chek's-- yes. And you're Be-- B'-- B something. I'm sorry, I don't remember, exactly, but I do remember that I met you before. And you Impressed green, didn't you?" At this point, she actually brings her fork back up towards her mouth, and eats, chewing carefully. B'tal eyes his own plate for a moment and reaches to pick up something with his fingers since he's suggesting eating to his tablemate. It's only fair. "Madilla," he repeats her name as though putting it to memory, then, "That's right. I'm B'tal now." He doesn't seem upset about the name thing. He finds something to write with in his bag, then starts making notes of pieces he's pulled out of the clock. "B'tal." Madilla repeats the name with a firm nod; she, too, sounds as though she's determinedly putting it to memory. "Of course." She takes another bite, staring thoughtfully down at her book, and then up again, and across at the weyrling and his clock. "Is it very difficult, fixing clocks like that? They're expensive, aren't they? So I suppose that means they're quite complicated." "It's not easy," B'tal agrees, "But they've always kind of made sense to me." He shrugs and looks up from the notes he's taking, setting aside pieces that have been noted so they aren't with the others. "Fixing them is easier than making them. But I don't do that." He reaches for something else off of his plate and gestures at her book, "I doubt it's more complicated than all that." Madilla cuts a piece of potato into smaller pieces, and forks one of them, though she hesitates before actually drawing it towards her mouth. "You're a fixer, not a builder," she concludes, with the faintest note of a question in her voice, though, ultimately, it is more of a statement. "I--" She glances at her book, then back up, nodding slowly. "I suppose so. Different kinds of complicated. It's just hard to think of it that way." The words, whether question or statement, leave B'tal a little more tense than he was a moment ago, jaw tightening and lips very nearly pulled into a frown. But he says, "Right," with his gaze returned to his work. "Different kinds of complicated," he agrees. And then he changes the subject. "How are you and Whit doing?" Simple question. Madilla must notice that tension in her dinner companion, though she doesn't say anything about it, and nor does her expression change. Instead, in between mouthfuls of food, she answers the question: "Oh. Fine, I think. He's been a bit tense - some of his family have come back, to stay for the winter. And I've been studying, so I haven't seen a lot of him. He's... I think he's doing all right. It's nice for me, knowing that he's staying here." "He does seem tense," B'tal echoes since he's apparently noticed that, too. "I didn't know his family was back," he continues, more for conversation's sake than anything. His attention is mostly on his work again while he talks. "I think in a couple months, there are less restrictions. Maybe that will help him being tense when you can, y'know, again." Madilla's hurried nod, at further mention of W'chek's family, and the beginnings of what she has to say about that get cut off completely at the last thing the weyrling has to say. Frowning, she repeats, "'Y'know'? I'm sorry, I'm not--?" Following. Apparently. Except that her cheeks have flushed somewhat, and her hand gone still, so she must have at least a vague inkling. "Touch each other, kiss, whatever," B'tal says, but it's a moment or two after that and he glances up to see the slightly flushed cheeks. It makes him flush, too, just a little bit. "Sorry," he says and looks back down at his stuff. "I'm not sure when exactly you can do what. But it does seem to make some of the guys tense." Beat. "Sorry." He apologizes again when he continues talking after his first apology, shakes his head as though to put it forcibly on another train of thought and stares at the clock. Yes, that was the answer Madilla was not looking for; she turns pinker still. "Oh!" Pause. "No, no, no need to apologise. No. We're holders; we... not until we're married." Pause. "Weyrmated." Apparently, she doesn't want to think about this mention of tension among the guys, and she stares down at her plate, instead, going silent. B'tal glances up and there's a flicker of confusion over his expression that's echoed in his words. "You both plan to stay at the Weyr, don't you?" She mentioned weyrmating. W'chek is a bronzerider now. "Doesn't that make you Weyr-folk?" The weyrling chances a glance in her direction again, but it's brief. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." A few deep breaths appear to help compose Madilla, and then she's able to smile again, and, after a hesitant, thoughtful moment, nod her head. "I suppose so. It's just... we're hold/bred/. I can't - won't - just give up everything that I was brought up to believe, so... In a few turns, when I'm no longer an Apprentice, we'll weyrmate, and /then/. And no, please, don't apologise. You didn't realise." Pause. "I'm trying to-- deal better. I don't judge, you understand; it's just that, for myself..." She shakes her head, shrugs; it's awkward. Still looking a little awkward himself, B'tal offers a nod in response to her words but he thinks before he says anything else. "It just seems like such a long time. I've never felt that way," though he cuts himself off there uncertainly and says instead, "You must really like him." It's said with a thoughtful depth and maybe even a certain amount of respect. "It is a long time," says Madilla, sounding actively longing, at this. "It could be another three turns before I'm a Journeyman. But..." She considers for a moment, and then shrugs her shoulders again. "There's something comforting in knowing that it's all sorted. I /do/ like him. He's a good man - he's very good to me. I think he'll be an excellent husband and father." Tilting her head to the side, she adds, "I'm sure you'll find someone. That makes you feel that way." "He seems okay," says B'tal with a slow nod. But he considers Madilla uncertainly before venturing down another path, "Do you worry about mating flights? I mean, you won't hold that against him if Zhikath wins, will you? It's not his fault." Like it's already happened. It actually seems rhetorical more than anything, though, because he doesn't wait for an answer, "No. No, no. I don't think so." He trudges forward and gropes to change the subject again, "I need to come by the infirmary and get a physical soon." Madilla's mouth opens to respond to things a couple of times, though she doesn't get the chance to. In the end, she simply responds to the last: "You should come in then, any time you have free. The apprentices will all be off for exams, from tomorrow, but everyone else will be there. They're not too scary. Physicals, I mean." She twists her fingers together, her dinner, for the moment, abandoned, but finally adds, picking up an earlier thread, "Why don't you think you'll find someone? There's no reason why you shouldn't." B'tal thinks, perhaps trying to decide when he might be available to throw himself at the whim of the healers, but he thinks for a good while before finally shaking his head. "That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?" Because nothing he's asked has been personal, right? But he shrugs and tries to answer anyway. "I don't need anyone, I guess. And I have Jeibeth now." Madilla turns scarlet, so, evidently, on second thought she must think it is, too. Her mouth opens, the start of a word coming out before B'tal answers anyway. Once he's finished, she allows a hurried nod. "Of course. Of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--But of course. Jeibeth." She tests the green's name, and then a second time: "Jeibeth. Of course." Okay. After all of that, B'tal can't help the smile that starts pulling at the corners of his mouth. "No need to apologize," he reassures. "I've been a little forward, I guess. And, anyway, I don't think anyone I have eyes for sees me that way. Or ever will. So it's not a very big deal. I'm not really looking for a good husband and babies," his smile spreads enough here to dimple his cheeks. Then he glances back down and makes to more or less return to the work he's been ignoring for the last few minutes. That smile seems to relieve Madilla quite a lot, returning her posture to one slightly more relaxed. But what she says is, "Oh. I'm sorry. Not-- husband and babies. But. Still. I am sorry. Sometimes, it seems so much easier, where I'm from, where people marry the person they're told to, and it doesn't matter what you think: you do your duty. Less... heartache." She picks up her fork again, glances down at her book, and resumes eating. "But I understand that - some people like the choice, I suppose." "Easier," B'tal agrees. "But I can't see being happy in that sort of situation. What if you hated the person? What if they hit you? Or they couldn't have children? I think heartache is worth finding the person you really want to be with." Except he doesn't, remember. "I guess I like the choice," he adds. "You and W'chek weren't... you weren't told to be together, were you?" Madilla sucks her breath in, thoughtful. "Well. You learn to work with each other. To make the best of things - for the sake of the children, if there are any. And..." She doesn't, however, seem to have answers for all of it; the steady blinking of her gaze, and then, the way she looks away, puts paid to that. "It's easy to make bad choices when you're doing it for yourself, too. But my family... they know better. They make a good choice." Pause. "No, we weren't. No. We chose." Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. "I should go: I have to leave for my exams in the morning. It was... nice. To talk to you. B'tal." B'tal listens but he doesn't try to talk about it further, especially given her last comments. "Oh, right. Of course. You, too. Madilla. Good luck." The weyrling offers a smile, uncertain, and looks back down to his work with more focus so she can leave without him staring after her. "Thank you," she says, earnest and smiling, as she gathers up her plate, and then her book, and then makes her way back across the caverns. At least he can actually concentrate on his clock, now. |
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