Logs:Home
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| RL Date: 14 September, 2008 |
| Who: Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Madilla finds out what it's like to go home again. |
| Where: Tredor's Cothold |
| When: Day 25/26, Month 9, Turn 17 |
| Mentions: Leova/Mentions |
| She refused dinner, promising that she'd eaten before she came, knowing all too well that there was never an abundance to eat, that she could eat her fill and then some tomorrow - that they would not be so lucky. Even so, her mother kept trying to press food on her - "Are you sure they're feeding you properly? You look healthy enough, but how can I know, Madilla?" It felt strange. Delifa mothered her, a bit, but - that was different. She helped put the younger ones to bed, though they all found her strange and weren't really sure whether to trust her. She tried to help with the dishes, but everyone seemed to think she was just in the way. She didn't do anything properly, they said. They made her sit at the table and watch; she felt wretched. Later, she sat with her mother in the quiet kitchen, and they talked. It was a different kind of talking than they'd done, before she'd left - after all, she'd been thirteen, then, and now she was fifteen. Nearly old enough to be married. "You didn't tell us that you'd been posted, Maddie." Though her voice was soft, Madilla's mother sounded sad. "I would have liked to know. Tredor's not going to be--" "I didn't know if you got any of my letters, anyway. You never wrote back. I--" Madilla turned her gaze away. "I was afraid my Uncle would say no." "We didn't raise you to lie, even by omission, to your elders, Madilla." Madilla bowed her head. "I know, Mother. But I had to go. I have a duty to the craft, now, too. And it was an honour: I was requested. Journeywoman Delifa wanted me. Me! Over all the more experienced apprentices." "But a weyr, Madilla. Weyrs are different. Not for people like us." "But I like it there, Mother. I have friends. People like - like Leova, who offered to bring me here tonight, when she had no obligation to do it at all! And there's Oysric, who's always looking out for me, and--" "Madilla." She realised how tired her mother sounded, and how old. She looked up to meet her gaze, and saw tears there. She found herself blinking back some of her own. "You're a good girl, Maddie, but you need to be careful. They may seem like us, but they're - they're different. We owe them our respect, of course. But never forget that you are not one of them. You are a daughter of this hold, and you were raised in a certain way." Madilla found herself struggling to get words around a lump in her throat - she nodded, instead, wiping tears from her eyes. "I won't, Mother. I promise." They talked for hours. Sometimes, it felt like was a lifetime of news to share; sometimes, it felt like there was nothing she could share, for fear of disapproval, disappointment, concern. She didn't mention the way she still thought of Daegan, even though she hadn't seen him in months. She didn't mention the way Kasadel had looked at her, the way he smiled when they passed. She held her tongue, and she felt wretched for it. Tredor sent for her well before dawn, and spent one precious hour of her time lecturing her; she found herself sinking into her childhood ways, promising the world, obeying his edicts without question, never pausing to think about what it was he was saying. When he finally released her, she had only a few precious minutes to seek out her family again, hugging goodbye her Aunt Essa, her cousins, her sisters and brothers, and, finally, her mother. "Look after yourself, my Maddie," her mother whispered into her ear, crying openly. "Be a good girl. Remember--" She didn't finish, but Madilla knew. Remember your place. Remember what I told you. She was quiet, on her way back to the Weyr with Leova. Not silent or sullen: she was, once more, profusely thankful, she smiled and said she'd had a wonderful time, but she didn't have much else to say about the experience. She carried it close to her, turning it over and over in her heart, as she carried out her duties that day. Can you ever go home again? Can anyone? Home no longer really felt like it. And if home wasn't home, where did she belong, really? |
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