Logs:Guys are Strange
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| RL Date: 11 July, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Madilla, Lilabet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After the Boys Night Out, Devaki seeks assistance from Madilla. |
| Where: Madilla's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Viremi/Mentions |
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| It's late enough that most people are -- in this cool weather -- either spending the evening in the living caverns or holed up in their rooms. Devaki, however, isn't fond of the former and doesn't have the latter, which is perhaps why he's seated on the ground in front of Madilla's room, his head bowed, walking stick lying across his knees. There's an empty mug sitting next to him, and the snow on his boots has melted enough to indicate he's probably been there for a while. Wherever Madilla has been, it has certainly involved being out in the snow: her cheeks are flushed pink with cold, and she hasn't yet managed to take off her layers and layers of warm clothing. That's probably because of Lilabet, who is curled up fast asleep in her mother's arms, buried under /more/ layers. The pair pass down the corridor, coming to a halt some steps away from Devaki, whose appearance draws a muffled gasp from the healer. She hesitates. And then: "Devaki?" "Sorry, I didn't mean to--" Devaki's voice is kind of odd, muffled by his bowed head, but also -- as becomes apparent when he lifts it -- by visibly swollen features and split lip. He looks, pretty simply, like he's been beaten pretty solidly. A slow breath, and his eyes settle on Madilla, then Lilabet, with an odd expression. "I didn't want to go to the infirmary, in case my grandfather-- but you've got Lily with you." With a wince, and a slightly unsteady gait, he finally manages to rise. Madilla sucks in her breath as she sees, properly, the management of Devaki's face, and her brows knit unhappily. "No-- no, of course, you came to the right place. Of course I'll help. Are you all right? What happened?" Her words come out fast and furious, albeit hushed: she indicates her door with a tip of the head, adding, "Open it for me? I'll put Lily down, and then I can take a look. What /happened/?" Devaki starts to shake his head, quickly decides that's the wrong movement since it elicits a grimace of pain, then simply says, "Oh, you know. Slipped, really." His tone is light, dismissive. He bends to collect his mug, too, now that he notices it. And, with a shuffle of feet, he pushes open her door, gesturing for Madilla to precede him, gentlemanly even in this moment. "Slipped," he repeats, stubbonly. "Slipped." There's no question, really, that Madilla disbelieves this story: it's written into the sound of that repetition, and into the raised-eyebrow glance she gives the islander before she bustles through into the room. She doesn't say anything more after that, at least, not immediately, as she unbundles her sleeping daughter and tucks her, tidily, into bed. Lilabet barely stirs, thankfully, not even when Madilla leans down to press a kiss to her brow. Devaki trails in after her, albeit at a slower pace, and pushes the door closed behind him. His gaze trails after Madilla, though there's no attempt to further justify his comment. Then his gaze roves around the room, before he eases into a seat at the table, resting the walking stick against the wall and setting the mug down on the table. Madilla takes her time with her daughter, as though she's using it to compose her thoughts, or make some kind of decision. When she turns back, her expression is clear enough; she says, quietly, "The ice outside can be treacherous, at this time of turn. Accidents happen. Let me go get some ice, and some supplies. You'll watch Lily for a few moments?" "Especially for one not used to wearing boots," Devaki agrees, content it seems to play along with the sham now that she's accepted it. A twitch of lips, and a grateful look, as he rises, slowly. "Of course," he's quick to accept that trade off, and, begins making his way slowly over towards Lily's cot. Uninvited, he seats himself on the edge of her bed, leaning forward. "That would make it--" Madilla hesitates. "More difficult, yes. Thank you. I won't be long." Despite that, she lingers for a moment, just watching Devaki and her sleeping child, with an expression that hints faintly of pleasure. But there is work to be done: she turns to open the door again, heading back out into the corridor and closing it behind her. She's not gone for long - perhaps five minutes, in all, returning with a bucket of snow and a bundles of supplies tucked under one arm. By the time she returns, Devaki has made himself at home. He's removed his boots, bare feet curling on the rug as he leans over Lilabet's cot, humming a tune under his breath that, while probably somewhat familiar, is different enough to likely be a tune handed down on the island. He's totally fixated on the task, only belatedly straightening as Madilla closes the door behind her. Slowly -- mindful of both Lily's sleep and his own wince, he stands and makes his way slowly towards the table. Madilla's first glance, when she returns to the room, is, of course, for her daughter; finding nothing changed there, she turns her attention back to Devaki, setting her bucket on the table, her supplies next to it. "Sit," she invites. "And let me take a look. Is it just your face? They didn't-- you didn't fall on anything else?" There's an intensity to her, as she works, and though it doesn't take away from her natural warmth, it certainly supplements it with focus. Devaki sinks into the indicated chair. There's an-- odd expression at her question that undoubtedly answers the question truthfully, even if his words say otherwise, "No, nowhere else." At least nowhere he seems comfortable exposing here, in front of her, or Lilabet. He's silent, studying Madilla as she works, an occasional wince or grimace, but he bears it all with good humor. Madilla accepts that answer without question or pause, believing it rather more readily than his line about the slip. Her hands, having been so recently in gloves, aren't as cold as they could be, though the ice she applies to the swelling most certainly is. "It's not going to be pretty for a few days," she warms. "Though I'll got some ointment that should help bring it all down. It..." She pauses. "Must have been some fall. How have you been, falls aside? How's your cough?" "Are you kidding? Guys wear this kind of thing like a badge of honor," Devaki says with a low-throated chuckle. Her discussion of the fall earns a twitch of shoulders, and a slight wince at that ice is pressed against his jaw. There's a slight pause at the last question. "All fine," he reports, with an ease as he lifts a hand on top of Madilla's to shift the ice a little. "I'd appreciate it if you-- if this didn't get back to grandfather. He's got enough to focus on, at the moment. I'll drop by the infirmary after the swelling goes down." That makes Madilla laugh, too, in quiet amusement. "Guys," she tells Devaki, firmly, "Are very strange." She allows her hand to be shifted, keeping a close eye upon the line of his cheek as she does so. "I won't say a word, I promise. It seems like... most people have enough worries at the moment. I wouldn't want him to worry about your balance." She doesn't /really/ seem to be pressing, though her mouth shifts, lips pressed together almost ruefully. "Ointment twice a day, morning and night. Give the ice a moment, and then I'll put some on for you now. And yes - do come in when it goes down." "Come on, like girls aren't." An amused, slightly teasing note creeps into Devaki's tone, then he falls silent for a beat. "I will. But I should-- if you give me the ointment, I can find my own way, let you and Lily get some sleep. I appreciate this, Madilla," he says, soberly, gaze on her. "Girls are--" And then, Madilla has to laugh. "Pretty incomprehensible to me, too, sometimes." That's a yes, then. She hesitates, at his request, drawing back to consider him for a moment before she nods. "If you're sure you're all right. I'm glad you thought to come and find me." That's probably intended as a 'you're welcome', as she draws her hands (and the snow) away, bustling herself around in her other supplies to bring forward a little tub of the aforementioned ointment to offer it to him. "If you ever--" but she breaks off. "You know where I am." While she bustles away, Devaki draws himself up slowly, leaning a little bit more heavily on the stick than mere affectation would require. He reaches out to accept the tub, his fingers deliberately brushing hers, squeezing briefly. "Thanks, Maddy." There's a smile there, as he assigns her a nickname, though it's somewhat crooked given his puffed features. "Say hi to Lily for me. No-- actually, tell her the sea monster came by and you drive it off." Cheered by that thought, he turns for the door. It's not that Madilla doesn't notice how much Devaki leans on the stick, because from her expression (though she hides it quickly), she certainly does. But she evidently chooses not to say anything, instead turning her head to smile at the islander; she seems pleased, too, by the nickname, the finger squeeze. "You're welcome, Devaki," she tells him, firmly. "I will. She'll be tickled. And disappointed that she missed it, I think. Next time. Look after yourself." She follows him out, lingering in the doorway until he's gone. |
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