Logs:Turndays, Tea, and Tragic Tots
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| RL Date: 21 December, 2013 |
| Who: Leova, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Leova takes Madilla out for her turnday. Madilla's bleeding heart strikes again. |
| Where: Ruathan Waystation |
| When: Day 6, Month 8, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Delifa/Mentions, Delvana/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Jinja/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Raija/Mentions, Raj/Mentions, Varian/Mentions, Veylin/Mentions, Via/Mentions |
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| Substantial stone walls and broad eaves lend coolness to the Ruathan waystation on this summer's afternoon, even as unshuttered windows invite in both warmth as well as a hint of a breeze. As the hostess unloads their tray, the teapot and the first tray of little sandwiches, she chatters lightly about the large caravan that had been through just yesterday and my goodness, Madilla's Turnday, what a lovely day for it! Leova glances at the healer with silent humor, leaving it up to her whether to correct that it's really the day before: as much 'for the occasion of' that Turnday as the dress that the greenrider's letting herself be seen in. "Just perfect," agrees Madilla with a brightly undaunted smile, evidently seeing no particular need for the correction, though that twisted corner of her mouth may indeed be aimed at the greenrider. "And don't these sandwiches look lovely." It's later, after they've been left to their repast, that she adds, "And so do you, Leova. Thank you - this is perfect." Her own dress is, of course, far less unusual, and even the more ornately decorative borders of hems and sleeves are no longer quite so out-of-character for the healer (she is, after all, no longer growing). For her part, Leova will endeavor to not trail her less-ornate but still decorative cuffs in the tea. "Thank you," she says in her turn, for the compliment. "I thought you might like to get away to something different. How has it been, lately? Fewer patients, I'd imagine. More patience?" Madilla doctors her tea with lemon and lifts it towards her mouth, inhaling steam. "Fewer patients, certainly. I'm less certain about the patience. Sometimes, perhaps. I have an apprentice who seems determined to cause me grief, though that's probably just to do with her age. It is hard on them: all those rules, when so many people around them have none." It may be a gripe, but she's still smiling - rueful, but not moody or unhappy. "That the dark-haired girl, should I guess what kind of trouble? Seems older than the 'I'll swap jars of supplies around, because that'll be funny' sort of trouble," Leova says, wry in her turn. She sips after Madilla does, though her tea has cream. "Relieved Via's got a while to go before that. Which reminds me. Think Lily's at the point where she could keep an eye on ours, after we'd put them to bed? If she's minded to trade her time for a little something extra, anyhow." A thoughtful look settles upon Madilla's features at the mention of her daughter, leaving her to consider in silence for several seconds as she sips at her tea. "I'm sure she'd be pleased to," she says, with a quick little nod. "I recommend calling her 'Lilabet' and talking to her as if she were an adult; she's responsible, but she's going through a stage. Better that stage than Jinja's, I suppose, which is more... well, she's eighteen, and wants to go out with boys and dance until dawn." "Will do," Leova says, reflective. "Her full name, hm? Will let you know what she says. Not that Anvori doesn't have a list when it comes to that, but better a friend's daughter to benefit, I reckon." The older girl, though: "Jinja, right. She pops her head in regular-like, though it's been a few days, given how the last time's... let's just say she saw something inappropriate for the table." There's a one-cornered smile. "What do you even do with her?" "It will make her turn to be asked," says Madilla, firmly. "Anything to prove that she's not a little girl anymore. I suspect it's all because she feels left behind, with Delvana at the Hall, now, and writing back about all the things she's getting to do." By her expression, she's well aware of the contrast between those two healer apprentices, Delvana and Jinja, and their respective view of apprenticeship. Of the latter girl, "Oh dear. I'd say poor Jinja, but... I'm willing to be lenient. I turn a blind eye to a lot of things." She eyes her sandwich rather than the greenrider. "But she needs to learn to be more discreet about it." Leova considers the opaque liquid in her cup for a moment, then looks back at Madilla. "Can see that. At least Delvana still writes, though. Hope she'll take her under her wing when she gets to the Hall, if she's still that sort of girl." As for Jinja, "And that's not something you can really say, can you? 'Don't make me see what you're up to.' Or can you? Might've said it once or twice to weyrlings," back with I'daur, "but they're a bit different." Madilla chews thoughtfully on her sandwich and says, finally, "I hope so. She's a good girl, Vana. She's - generally - been a good influence on Lily. And vice versa, I suppose, especially right after Delifa died. Two half-orphans, as it were." It's as she reaches for her tea cup again that she adds, "You can try. In a way... sometimes I wonder if it does more harm than good, all those rules. With weyrlings, early on, it makes good sense, but teenagers are always going to be teenagers, aren't they? They know best." It's wryly said. "I think she'll be a decent healer one day, at least." Perhaps it's the mention of Delifa that lowers Leova's gaze again. "Perhaps so." She begins to peel one half of the sandwich back, peering at the insides before closing it up again. "Reckon so. Hard to believe mine will be that too, someday. There's something to be said for a little more freedom, but then again. If she drinks too much, if she does too much, if it gets in the way of her work..." It's Madilla's turn, then, to glance up, and to consider Leova for a few thoughtful moments before she answers. "Yes," she agrees. "And therein lies the problem. If it gets in the way of her work, or if there's any chance of it getting back to the Hall... I hate to think of it being Lily, one day. And Dee, in turn. Is it better or worse that Lily will likely be somewhere else, while she goes through that stage? I honestly don't know." She stops, and then her mouth twists into an easier smile. "Not something to worry about today, at any rate, though." "And it's her profession. Not just something she does because she can, that she fell into. Not just something that's expected." Quiet amber eyes have taken to studying Madilla in turn, and then Leova says, "I have to think that if Lily gets wild, it'll be because she means something by the thing she's doing, not just acting out over any old thing. And," but there's the woman back again, with a refill on tea, and little cakes and fruit as a second course. Some of the fruit isn't from around here, might even be from the same sack that the greenrider had given over to their hostess when they arrived. A firm nod answers that first remark of Leova's; a smile, those comments on Lilabet. The interruption - during which she offers more delighted compliments - nonetheless only temporarily forestalls her quiet, "I hope so. I expect so. I can't imagine it being-- well." She smiles. "How are your three, anyway? And Anvori?" "From your mouth to Moreta's ears, hm?" Leova adds after a moment, "Strange, a bit, talking like this. Where we are now, the question for the cakes isn't 'which' but 'which first'. But... they're fine. Vey," Veylin, "is growing into more of Via's things we'd saved," the clothes that were gifts, primarily, not to be automatically passed back to stores. "Via still has her fancies. Varian... I told you he'd gotten to toddling finally, hadn't I? About a sevenday ago? Know you told me so, but still was a relief that he did." Madilla's smile, confirmation for that first remark, and turning almost wickedly pleased in agreement for that second, is almost wistful as Leova continues. "You did," she confirms, "and I'm still relieved and pleased for you. It's hard, I know, when you're still waiting for it to happen. They're not really babies anymore, are they? Though I don't envy you the two at once, and so mobile, now. Still." "So very mobile," Leova says with resignation. She reaches for the teapot, offers Madilla a refill and then takes care of her own, but she doesn't yet drink. Her fingers shift almost imperceptibly on the cup's handle, as though she'd like to fidget but won't. "About Anvori," she says finally. "He's good, he's wonderful with them, and he gets us help when we need it. Only. You remember, my cousin's boy?" Sympathy shows itself in Madilla's expression, but doesn't linger. She accepts a refill, adding more lemon, and makes no attempt to break the silence - though nor does she study Leova in anything more than a cursory kind of way. When the greenrider does speak, the healer hesitates, mouth open as though she's about to speak for several moments before she finally does. "Yes," she murmurs. "Of course." "He still hasn't turned up. Raj," Leova clarifies belatedly, "not Anvori." She exhales. "Wasn't going to ask this here. But. He's, Anvori is, worried about raising a third their age, not that she isn't a little older, but... Madilla? Would you, would you consider fostering? The little girl." Madilla's hand tightens, almost imperceptibly, on the handle of her cup. She exhales: a little sigh, both wistful and heartfelt, the kind that suggests she's instantly thinking of the little girl, above and beyond anything else. "Of course," she breathes, though her cheeks have turned pink. "I-- I can't stand the thought of her not having somewhere to go. It's just that, well." She stops, looking momentarily troubled. "H'kon and I only recently agreed that we should avoid having more children, but... she needs me. Us. Someone. We'll work something out." Leova's have flushed in their turn, wind-chapped though they are. "You and he... but you might take her, and not your own... Madilla." She drinks, quickly, an excuse to blink back too much emotion. "We could have her given over to the nurseries, you see, but I, we, hoped for someone we knew would be wonderful for her. After the way she started off, no one wanting her." "In a way," says Madilla, after a moment, her shoulders drawn back and her tone firm, "it makes far more sense. We should be caring for the children who already exist... every child deserves someone who loves them. It's just... not fair." Her tone, by the end, is wavering: she's got emotions of her own, though none that stop her from sounding determined. "It's not," Leova says plainly. Then, "I don't want it to mean you don't get another child of your own, though, Madilla. One that's with the man you care for, the man of your own." Madilla is silent for several long seconds, and then shakes her head, firmly. "No, no. This is good, I think. It's not... we'd ruled out the idea of having a baby, Leova. This is quite different. I'll still have to... talk it out, but I think I can do this. I want to do this." "He doesn't want to?" Leova asks hesitantly, and yet she can't not be relieved. She doesn't need to curve her hands around her cup for warmth, and yet she does it anyway. She can't not say, "Thank you, Madilla. Thank you." "He's so busy," is Madilla's explanation. "I am, too, of course, but... differently. He wouldn't want to do it less than wholeheartedly, and..." It sounds as though she has (mostly) convinced herself. "You're welcome, Leova. Honestly. Truly. I will do my absolute best for her, I promise." She has to drop her gaze towards her cup, now, and from there to the cakes. She takes one, eating it in a way that is very nearly methodical. "Not like people ever get un-busy," Leova points out, and follows suit. Only, she is methodical. "And..." Madilla isn't looking up as she speaks again. "Accidents do happen." "They do." Purposefully or otherwise. Leova says, "If there were an accident... he wouldn't expect you to stop it, I hope." Madilla's cheeks are pink again. "I don't believe so," she says. And, "I wouldn't. Couldn't." Her breath escapes, ragged. Then, rather too quickly: "These cakes are delicious." "Good. I like them too," says Leova, who may not have tasted a one. "Is an accident... on its way?" "No." It's amazing how Madilla can make that single syllable sound both relieved and disappointed. "We joked, after we made the decision, that I'd probably instantly-- but no. We made that decision, Leova. It's not like... he pressured me, or anything. It's fine." She'll even plaster a smile, thin but still visible, onto her face. "How old is Raj's little girl, now?" Leova eyes Madilla like she can see right through that smile. But: "Good. For the 'we.'" And, "Older than the twins." Her gaze goes distant, if briefly. "Turn and a half, maybe. Not nursing anymore, so there's that... she's got dark hair, lots of it, the auntie puts it in braids. She's not ill-cared for." Just not wanted. Madilla, however, gives Leova a placid glance in return. "Good," she says, nodding enthusiastically. "It's a good age, for the upheaval, I think. I'm sure it will be traumatic at first, but she'll forget. Do you... think it's likely that she'll be claimed back, one day? Or at least... will they be interested in her?" Leova laughs, low. Madilla, she's more confident than she is. But: "Didn't sound like they'd be interested, but they might." She's not laughing now. "The rest... when I was going to take her in, myself, they wanted me to talk to a harper. To foster her official-like, not just that but adopt her, so even if I died then the Weyr would take care of her. So they wouldn't have to take her back." Madilla isn't laughing, either. "That's awful," she says, bluntly, but with feeling. "That they... that poor child. Well." It's decisive. "One way or another, she's going to get a home - a proper one." It also, it seems, requires more tea. "When you're ready," Leova says. "Even just to see. I'll take you." With that, she holds out her own cup: another round, all around, and then sweets. |
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