Logs:She's Eight. Eight!
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| RL Date: 27 August, 2009 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla's turnday present has suffered a misadventure, but that doesn't stop the apprentice and Leova from having a pleasant picnic lunch. |
| Where: Infirmary / Diving Cliff, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 20 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Delifa/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, K'ndro/Mentions, L'van/Mentions, Riahla/Mentions, Suireh/Mentions |
| Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients. About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like. This is not the same Leova who'd turned up around breakfast time, bright-eyed with ill-suppressed excitement, requesting an Afternoon Appointment out of the Senior Apprentice's Schedule. This is, at least, also not the same Leova of some days ago, sweeping her friend off to a quiet, more-company-than-conversation lunch. /This/ Leova enters the infirmary from the inner caverns around lunch time, all right, but she's stalking over with deliberate non-stomping footsteps, her hands gripping her belt, her head raised with enough tension to keep it from going hangdog. This morning's request means it's no surprise for Madilla to see Leova's entrance from her usual post at the front counter (Though it's quiet enough today that she's sitting on top of it, chatting quietly with one of the other healers who stands nearby). But as her head turns and her mouth opens to greet the greenrider, her words falter, and, after a moment's pause, she slides down to the ground again. Cautiously; "Leova?" "Happy Turnday," Leova repeats from this morning's greeting, if now with a wry pull to her mouth and a nod to the other healer thereafter. She puts her hands behind her back by way of a change of pace. Says, "So. Lunch?" Tips her head towards the dragon infirmary. Shortcut! The other healer glances from Leova to Madilla, but smiles, telling the Apprentice, "We'll see you back later. No hurry. Have a good time." It's enough that Madilla smiles, nodding a confirmation to her healer companion, then turning back to Leova. "Thank you," she repeats, another echo from this morning. And, "Lunch - of course." She unties her apron, which the other healer takes from her before she has time to set it anywhere else, smoothing down the blue of her skirt, and then nods, taking a step towards the dragon infirmary as indicated. It's a quick walk, if Leova has anything to say about it: first, through the dragon infirmary, which is free of gushing ichor today, although there /is/ a decrepit bronze with a rider who's complaining about thicktail and isn't he too old for it and doesn't the dragonhealer have any idea how /much/... stuff... that makes and it's not funny, shardit. Next, out into the bowl, where Leova takes a handoff from a waiting weyrling, young Mai, who immediately salutes and rushes off to her next job once the basket's delivery is taken care of. After that, across to the lake, and after a quick look at Madilla and her pretty skirt, "Maybe... down here? Or would you rather the top of the cliff," after all. She adds after a moment, with that same pull to her mouth as before, "And, I'm sorry." Madilla lengthens her stride to match Leova's, and though she can't help but overhear the exchange in the dragon infirmary, at least if the twitch of her expression is anything to go by, she manages to avoid glancing over; poor bronzerider, poor dragonhealer. In the bowl, her steps falter, though she manages a quick smile to Mai before the weyrling heads off, and then off again. At the lake, "Up the top." Decisively. "The skirt will wa-- but. Sorry? Why are you sorry, Leova?" She turns bodily, her head tilted to the side as she consider the greenrider, frowning. The basket swings in Leova's hand, oddly girlish, like a child who broke mum's favorite vase. Or only vase. "Your present, it... ah. Here," because there's a convenient clump of teenagers just now getting out of the lake, and if they don't get started, they'll have to wait for them all. So she starts climbing. Only once they've gotten to the top, once Leova's delved into the basket and shaken out the light blanket that's the first thing in it, does the greenrider start explaining. Sort of. She has jars and wrapped-up flatbread and so forth to go through. "Suppose it goes to show, I should've asked first. Seeing as how I don't /know/ that you want one? But you might. I hope. Although maybe it would be easier if you didn't. Or maybe if I hadn't said anything at all. But it's just. /Just/ happened, before I got there. Had this firelizard egg, for you. They /told/ me it wouldn't hatch for a few days yet." "You didn't need to--" begins Madilla, still looking confused, just as Leova starts climbing, and she has to hurry to follow her - can't get caught behind those teenagers, oh no. She has to hold her skirt up, but she manages without too many problems, and promptly settles onto the blanket with her head tilted to one side to listen to the explanation. Her brow is furrowed, at first, and then her lips part in a little exclamation that may be delight, except that-- oh. And then, finally, she shakes her head. "Oh, /Leova/. It was a lovely idea, though. Don't be sorry: it wasn't your fault. Truly." "But I wanted to," says Leova. Stubbornly. And hands her some sausage wrapped in flatbread, like maybe that'll do instead, at least for the next second or two. "If I can scrape up another one somehow... it probably wouldn't be one of the bigger eggs, those run more, and what's a little girl like Suireh to do with a bronze anyway? and I still haven't told Anvori. Said it was all right to keep it on the hearth. /Didn't/ say anything about his dau... nieces. Niece. Getting one. But if I can find one, /would/ you want one?" She looks at Madilla so earnestly. "And don't you dare say anything just to be polite, because it's not /your/ fault." Madilla accepts the sausage and flatbread without really looking at it, already opening her mouth to insist on something, with obvious determination, except-- "/Suireh/ Impressed it?" She seems to find that very funny, actually, the corners of her lips twisting up, and then actual laughter emerging, though she tries, valiantly, to swallow it back. "Oh, /Leova/." She pauses to take a deep breath, eyes lowering towards her sausage and flatbread, then lifting to Leova once more. "/If/ you could find one, and it wasn't too much trouble, and-- don't go out of your way. But. If." She can't help it: she looks hopeful. "She's eight. Eight! ...Close to eight and a half," like that should make much of a difference. Leova's exasperated with it, but Madilla /laughing/ like she is... and then looking hopeful like she is... "I will. I definitely will," the greenrider assures. Will go out of her way, too. She does get in a mutter of, "Couldn't even yell at her, should be glad, not like anyone else could've..." before approaching more normal tones. "So. Egg. Don't care what size? Just so's it's healthy, it lives? And have you heard from your family, how's Delifa?" "She doesn't have a mother," points out Madilla, like this makes all the difference in the world. "And at least this way, /someone/ got to enjoy him." The pragmatism seems to outweigh any disappointment on her part, particularly given the greenrider's assurances, although - "No, I don't mind what size. Truly, whatever you could get your hands on, /if/ you could." Stress on the /if/, her expression meaningful. "No, I haven't heard from my family," she adds, then, breaking off a piece of her food and considering it. "But Delifa's good. Doing better. Though Aeryn's keeping a close watch, still, in case. And we're not supposed to worry her." Which... worries Madilla. of course. "There's that..." and Leova starts to relax, only then she's off onto, "But even if /Anvori's/ all right, when her /sister/ hears," before she can quite shut herself up again, and listen. Politely. Interestedly! And then she really does. Eats, too, with a slight frown for her family that lightens for Delifa herself. Better. "Good," this with genuine relief. And, "How far along is she, now? Would think it feels... odd, having her as a /patient/. Someone to help. To learn from /that/ way." Madilla puts in there, just quickly, suddenly thoughtful, "I don't envy him that one." But she can't help but smile anyway. She's got bread and sausage in her mouth when Leova asks her questions, but, after chewing carefully, she's quick to report, "Just shy of thirty weeks, she thinks. She's... beginning to get big." Her expression is fond as she says this, though she doesn't let it linger as she continues to add, "It is. It's hard for her, too, being a patient. But all the times... sometimes, you phrase things a certain way to make a patient feel better. But you can't do that, when they know all those tricks. You know?" That too-quick comment gets her raised brows, though Leova winds up listening rather than asking. Then, "Suppose so. Hard to be a patient patient... Oh, you must have heard it a hundred times, but I had to. Anyhow. When you do that phrasing, she knows something's up? How do you even put it, anyway? And is she all right with walking around and everything, by now?" Madilla may well have heard it a hundred times, or more, but it results in her cracking a smile anyway. "She knows," she agrees, after another bite-and-chew-and-swallow. "Ultimately, I think we're all just telling it all straight, at this point; I think she appreciates that. Just the truth, nothing but. Mm, she is. She's supposed to be careful, and rest as much as she can, but she's up and about and doing what she can. L'van's making sure she looks after herself, at least." And her patience gets a smile from Leova, but this time it's laced with appreciation. Also, sauce. Once she's gotten her mouth wiped, she says to the rest, "Not surprised. She's always seemed... practical, that way. Though with a streak of, hm. Not whimsy?" She looks at Madilla, Delifa's protege, expectantly: fill in the blank! "Anyhow, don't envy L'van, trying to sit on her. Hate to have to be the person to tell her no. She /bustles/." "Life?" A streak of life? Madilla tries the word out, but apparently discards it, because she shakes her head in the wake of it, and looks thoughtful. "No. But something. She's-- she does, doesn't she? In some ways, I think she was wasted in the classroom. She has that perfect 'I know exactly what we're going to do about this, so just let me do it'-- thing." Sweeping crumbs from her lap, she adds, "Poor L'van. Though I suppose he knew what he was getting in to: he says she was exactly the same when they were kids." To which Leova has to sit back from her leaning forward and nodding for that life, that /something/... and has to ask, "Is she always right? That you can tell, I mean. Not a put-on just to make us patients feel better." A breath later, "L'van, though. Hadn't known they knew each other /that/ long." She winds a stick of carrot around and around and around what's left of the sauce on what's left of her flatbread. "But. It's not as though they're... It's informal, isn't it? Which seems strange. Her having a baby and all. Though I suppose it's strange to begin with." Madilla has to stop and think about this, fingers pausing mid-flick of a crumb. Finally, "I suppose she is, sometimes, but not most of the time. She knows her stuff. And if she doesn't, immediately, she finds things out." Of L'van, "They grew up together, here. It's one of those... I suppose you'd call it romantic. Finding each other again all these turns later." She has a careful nod of her head for the informality of it, her lips drawing together somewhat more tightly. "She says it's just that she's too used to having her own space and own life, but... I don't know. I think it's strange, too. They clearly adore each other." Surely it's not just one of those things healers say, to be reassuring, but serves that purpose anyway. "/Glad/." Leova even takes a more definitive bite of that poor carrot, crunch-crunch-crunch, before she gives the so-careful healer a sideways look. A look, and a low half-whispered, more-than-half-teasing, "She isn't... afraid of /heights/, is she?" Madilla, mid-chew, has to put a hand over her mouth to hide her food as she giggles, eyes lighting in amusement. Once she's swallowed, she says, in a tone that matches Leova's, "Or maybe she just thinks he snores too much. Or maybe it's /Viarisuth/ who snores." Now Leova's brows hike up all over again. "Now, that's an idea. Either way. I wonder if she could outsnore the dragon? Back in the barracks, there was /so/ much snoring when Vrianth was little..." but of course, there must come the arch claim, "Not that /she/ ever did." Really. Of course! "A snoring competition?" Madilla gives this concept considerable, if not entirely serious, thought, and laughs. "No, of course she didn't. I'd never dream of thinking her capable of something so--" So /something/. Beat. More hesitantly, "How are the weyrlings doing? Senior weyrlings now, I think someone said?" "Snore-ful," Leova contributes, a gleam in her eye. As for the weyrlings... a breath leaves her, more of a sigh, really. "Senior. Right. K'ndro's the weyrling wingleader. Tapped Ebeny," and she manages not to put much emphasis on the name, "as well as G'chet. To second." No doubt there's more that could be rattled on about, but the assistant weyrlingmaster chooses to finish her carrot instead. Snore-ful! Exactly right. But Madilla bites at her lip, then hurriedly goes back to nibbling in, perhaps, an attempt to stop herself from doing that, as she listens to the news of the weyrlings. The names don't seem to mean too much to her, because she nods along evenly, no surprise, no approval. "Only a few months left, then. And then-- freedom. For all of you." Leova included. "Mm. Pretty much." Leova's eyes rest on Madilla's face, before she lightens it by picking apart what's left of her flatbread on the side. "Plenty of drills, plenty of chores, but flexibility too. Next rest day's tomorrow, then the twelfth, and so on. But I'll be back in the wing, after. Guessing the same one." Madilla drops her now-empty hands to her lap, letting them rest there, smoothing over the blue fabric, as she nods. "Smooth sailing, until they're graduated, then. Just-- practice, now?" Beat. "Back to-- Glacier? Flying alongside some of your former students, I suppose. Strange. Though I suppose they must integrate, eventually, and just be part of the wing. Like new Journeymen do, eventually." Leova's got a nod for practicing and, "Glacier, right." And, "Should be. 'Less they go and think they don't have to be careful," and there's a distinct tilt to one corner of her mouth, soon explained by, "Of course, our class was /very/ careful. Just like your new journeymen, I'm /certain/." But on that note she circles around back to, "You said something back when, about not... envying? Anvori one of the girls. Which one?" "I'm sure they'll be careful," murmurs Madilla, but the question about Anvori and the girls has taken more of her attention, at least in so much as she pauses and looks thoughtful, perhaps remembering, before answering. "I meant... mostly, if Suireh has a firelizard now - and a bronze one - it... At eight, the unfairness of it. I don't really know them at all, I've never /met/ them or anything, but Riahla seems..." She breaks off, unable to find the right word. "It must be difficult." "Twins," Leova says on a sigh. "And Suireh /could/ have stayed with her father, with R'hin, but she came back... It would be cowardly, to wish Riahla wouldn't come back until she didn't care, wouldn't it? But he misses her. And I do like them. Them both." There's a crumb, and another. She starts making a little pile of them on her knee. Madilla's expression is a little bit serious and more than a little bit sad as she listens to this, lips twisting up into an awkward little half smile. "The poor things. I don't think it would be cowardly. It's just... sad. Perhaps it's just easier to not be here, for her, for now." It sounds as though she's given these twins quite a bit of thought. Leova gets a quirky smile herself, though full-fledged rather than half-. "Kind Madilla. I'll still refuse to wish it, though." And there's something about her eyes, the way she leans forward... yet, "Perhaps. Mustn't make you dwell on sad things, not on your Turnday, though!" Surely they can distract each other away from sad things, toward lighter things to talk and even laugh about, before their lunch-leavings are put away and their lunch hour's told. |
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