Logs:Surrounded By Riders
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| RL Date: 3 October, 2010 |
| Who: Agnethe, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Agnethe's quiet conversation touches on uncomfortable truths. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 12, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. The post-dinner hour finds the galleries largely uninhabited, quiet, peaceful - a good place to finish up a late meal and peruse some eggs in relative quiet. Agnethe is doing just that, sitting in the front row of sits, with her feet tucked up beneath her and a mostly finished plate balanced on her knees. She picks at this and that, but her attention is focused on the eggs below, face all thoughtfulness. Introspection in process! Though much of the snow outside has melted away, it's decidedly chilly out-of-doors, and perhaps that's why a bundled-up Madilla - and a sleeping Lilabet - enter the Galleries, which are, after all, located somewhere in between the caverns and the craft complex. The healer shakes old snow from her boots as she ascends the stairs from the bowl, unwinding her scarf with one hand while she considers the view. It must be that she recognises Agnethe, or that she's looking for company, for she heads in the other woman's direction with a cheerful smile: "Good evening. Will I interrupt your thinking if I sit nearby?" Agnethe has been sitting here long enough to warm up, her own coat discarded in the seat beside her. As she's approached, though, she readily reaches over to move it, leaving the seat closest Madilla empty and available - the smile is returned in kind, a pleasant expression as she gestures to the seat. "You will," she answers. "But it would be welcome." She leans forward slightly to try and catch a peek of the sleeping child, and - with a cluck of her tongue - gives the response /always/ required when one sees a baby. "Getting big." "Then I'll join you," says Madilla, sounding pleased, extracting herself from her own coat so that she can sink into the chair with a low sigh of contentment. She's careful, of course, not to jostle Lilabet too much-- but the baby seems quite used to moving around through life this way, and for the moment, remains undisturbed. "Isn't she just? Nine months, in another few days. It's honestly hard to believe. And how are you? Hiding out in the quiet, or--" She pauses a moment, brows raising, "or is it contemplating the future you're doing?" "Heard said that the nights are long and the years are short," Agnethe replies, watching with her head tilted as mother and child make themselves comfortable, a distant smile on her lips. As for herself, she offers up an expressive shrug and one graceful hand gesturing to the eggs, as though that in itself ought to serve as some description of how she is. She does elaborate, though, settling back into her chair and drawing up one knee to lace her fingers over. "Future, past. Life, purpose. Light-hearted subjects like that. Never supposed I'd find myself here." Thought it's said lightly enough, there is an underlying note of doubt coloring her words, though she passes it by deftly enough. "Reminds me, believe I'm meant to ask you for... salve, was it?" "And truer words were never spoken," confirms Madilla, fervently, albeit quietly, and with a low laugh that speaks a great deal to her own sleepless nights. Lilabet just snuggles closer into her mother's chest, her tiny fist clenched tight. Her mother turns a thoughtful glance in Agnethe's direction, her expression faintly knowing. "You're not the first," she says. "To doubt. Or be overwhelmed. I think most do, from what I've seen." She seems more taken with remarking on that than to the request, but it does, eventually, get a belated response. "There's some in my coat pocket. I'll get it; give me a minute." Agnethe nods slowly, attention drifting inexorably back to the shapes of the eggs, they who potentially hold the future within them. "Imagine you see it a lot," she comments, maintaining a light tone. "Suppose it does little good to wonder or worry. Not easy to stop, though." The promise of salve is received with just a brief nod - she's certainly not desperate for it. Her next question is entirely unrelated, spoken after a short pause and a shift in her seat to look at the healer. "Is it odd for you? Living your life surrounded by riders, not being one yourself?" Madilla has to adjust Lilabet to get to her coat, and so, progresses slowly - particularly as she's also distracted by what Agnethe has to say. "This is the fourth clutch I've been here for," she says, "and there are always a couple who admit as much. I'd be surprised if /anyone/ could stop wondering or worrying." That answer, and the faint hint of envy in it, make Agnethe's last question all the more pertinent. Madilla flushes, nodding. "I wouldn't trade-- I love my work. But there's-- it can be strange. And I think it would be a rare person who'd not find the idea of having something - someone - anything like what riders describe their dragons as." She's rueful for the admission, her gaze ducking towards the end. "Any life-altering decision... bound to be accompanied with reasonable uncertainty," Agnethe agrees musingly, though the comment is made almost to herself. In any case, it is the healer's response to her question that draws her interest, listening intently to the stilted response with careful neutrality in her expression. She doesn't respond to it directly, and certainly makes no comment on Madilla's evident embarrassment. Instead she'll offer a confession of her own, perhaps related to the musings that she was in the midst of when her present companion showed up. "Make me uneasy, dragons. Even after living here for some time. Used to suppose, imagine, that if I were asked to stand, I'd never accept. The moment came and..." Well. And here she is, with that white knot. "Riders do make it sound... incomparable." Madilla's fingers dig into the pocket of her coat far enough to draw out a bundle of fabric, which she offers over to the other girl. The salve is within: a pleasantly clean smelling concoction. "I think a person would wonder for the rest of their life, if they turned the opportunity down," she says, dipping her head forward. "Logically, it would make no sense at all for me to give up everything I've worked for to Stand - even if I didn't have this one to worry about." 'This one' meaning her daughter, who gets a meaningful glance. "But I wonder whether I'd be able to, if the opportunity came up. I suppose I'm lucky, then, that no dragon has ever found my of interest." Dubiously lucky, perhaps; she can't entirely hide her feelings on that subject. "Have you a favourite amongst those eggs?" Agnethe extends her hand to take the bundle, and in fact does draw it past her nose to take a whiff of the salve before twisting to tuck it safely away within her own pocket. "Feels a bit silly," she admits a little bit wryly, speaking of the scavenger hunt. "But figure, if I'm going to do this, may as well play the game." Madilla's words, and perhaps that note of regret in her voice, earn a long thoughtful look from the candidate. There's decidedly wisdom in those words, and Aggy acknowledges them with a soft noise of appreciation. "Suppose that's true. Would have been wondering either way. This way, least I know if it's not meant to be, it just won't happen. That's how it works, right? Not meant to be a rider, you just... go back to your life." The look that Madilla gives her daughter is mirrored by Agnethe, just a brief look, but she has her own trace of wistfulness in the moment. "You are lucky." As for the eggs, she shakes her head, turning to look again. "They're interesting, though. Intend to sketch them." Amused, Madilla notes, "It's funny-- one of the big differences in candidates. Those who take to the hunt with enthusiasm, those who are more wary, those who don't play at all. I think it's a good way to talk to people, though, and I know /I/ always appreciate meeting the new ones." Having handed Agnethe her boon, the healer turns both hands back to her daughter, one lightly smoothing over the baby's woollen hat. "I think so. Or there are other clutches, future chances-- but only if you want them." Agnethe's assessment of the healer's life draws a smile, and, after a moment, she nods her agreement, her own wistfulness put aside: "I am, aren't I? I have everything I ever set out to achieve. I can't complain. You /should/ sketch them. I always think it's a shame that such interesting patterns end up forgotten and broken - lost forever, as soon as they hatch." "Good reason to do it, then," Agnethe says with a quirk of a smile, reachign to gather her coat - and the gift it contains - into her lap, seemingly in preparation to leave, though she doesn't rise just yet. She stays leaning comfortably back in her chair awhile longer, drawing out the exchange. "It's something not many can boast of," she says, indicating the baby with a little wave of her hand, the child - in her mind, at least - encompassing what the healer just said, the achievement of the things in her life. "Hope I'll be able to say the same some day. And I will, sketch them. Ought to be a record. Do individual ones too, could give 'em to those that impress..." She trails off thoughtfully, and then finishes with a sigh. Another smile for the healer, and she gestures towards the exit. "Have to be off. Expect I have another long day shoveling snow tomorrow." Madilla is silent a moment, and then, quietly, "I hope you will, too. There's nothing like it." Her assessment of parenthood is accompanied with a blossoming smile, bright enough to transform her relatively ordinary features into something more lovely. But she doesn't linger on the topic, instead, dipping her head forward, says, "I think that would be lovely. All those drawings. If you've the time. But-- of course. I ought to get this one to bed properly, too, before it starts snowing again. Have a good night." "And you as well, Madilla," Agnethe offers in return as she stands, shrugging into her coat as she goes. And with that she takes her leave, quickly and quietly heading back to the candidate barracks. |
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