Logs:If It Were You
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| RL Date: 14 December, 2014 |
| Who: Dilan, H'kon, Madilla, Raija |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla comes home. It's been an eventful two months. |
| Where: H'kon and Madilla's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 7, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilabet/Mentions, Miska/Mentions, Teris/Mentions |
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| It's nearly two months after her departure that Madilla arrives at Crom, footsore and exhausted, and eager to be home again. Her arrival is timed almost to the day of Crom's heir, and it's all the hold's healers can talk about: the child's tiny size, the lady's poor health, and lord's quiet jubilance. Even so, it doesn't take so very long before the topic of High Reaches' recent misfortunes come up; to these, Madilla listens with increasingly obvious consternation, until there's really nothing she can do but march straight to the fireheights and demand a ride home. Now. Yesterday. Now. Back at High Reaches, though, it's home that she heads for, and not the infirmary - though she does pause to scribble a note to be delivered to her temporary replacement. Her ride is good enough to send word to Arekoth; Madilla, agitated, paces the weyr, quite unable to stand still. She's brown from months on the road, thinner than she was; she looks exhausted. H'kon, Kallia and Raija are midway through a meal when Arekoth gets word. When his mother finishes her sentence, and has to prompt for a reply after continued silence, the explanation she receives is, "Madilla." The rest is taken care of with an efficiency typical to at least two of the three men in this family; Kallia goes to wait for Dilan's class to finish, and her son takes his daughter and hurries to join his dragon. Arekoth gives warning, a churr, when they make their landing, necessarily gentle, due to Raija's presence. "Madilla," comes from the rider, no sooner his eyes are upon her. And Raija, she nearly flips out of her father's suddenly scrambling arms, making a desperate noise rather than words, when she reaches the floor (with minor assistance), and beelining to her mother. Madilla stops, mid-pace, spinning around so that she can meet her weyrmate's gaze-- and then, yes, her daughter's too. Drawing Raija up into her arms, she holds on to her - tight, tighter, tightest - her gaze turned away just to make sure she doesn't cry into the little girl's hair. Besides, there's H'kon to look at, too, with an expression that speaks volumes, asking agitated questions laid out in the paleness beneath tanned cheeks and the wideness of her (okay, yes: teary) eyes. "I..." she begins. "Heard." And: "I missed you all so much." Little fingernails might well leave marks where Raija's hands clench and hold, while her legs wrap around the woman's frame. She has burrowed into Madilla's neck, with no sign of coming up for air. H'kon's first step wants to be quick, but stops hard. Hands clench and unclench, and he looks the woman over, noting the changes, all those little details that he knows well... or doesn't recognise. The nod is a bit belated. Once he lifts his eyes to hers, he can make better progress at closing the distance to her, albeit without reaching out. "I'm glad you're home," is far too little in words, but plenty in tone. Tone is enough; tone speaks louder than the words it carries, sometimes. Volumes. Madilla pauses to press a kiss to Raija's head as best as she can reach, and then her hand extends, fingers aiming to twine with H'kon's. Tiredly, "Perhaps they'll think better than to punish me with a riding post, next time." Her agitation is eased, at least in part, by this reunion; even so, those eyes focus intently upon the brownrider. "I had no-- how are you. All of you. How is everything?" It's relief, to grasp those fingers. It brings a sigh out of H'kon, short and quick, breath that was half held. He nods once more. "Well enough." Under different circumstances, giving Madilla that answer might have elicited a hint of smile from the man; not this time. "My mother is still here, and Dilan is doing well, I think, though he's missed you. Arekoth seems mostly recovered. As are many of the dragons..." Another nod. Well enough. "I've missed him," answers the healer. "And all of you." It bears repeating; she manages, as she said it, the faintest of tiny smiles. In her arm, she adjusts the weight of her daughter, now letting her fingers press tightly upon the girl, as if to reassure herself that this is real: she really is home. "I should have been here," she says, then. "I should never have been gone. It-- how bad was it?" H'kon nods again, smiles in a way that seems uncomfortable, swallows. His eyes fall to Madilla's shifting arm, and that is easier. "You should sit." A sidestep, making way, moving to escort her, and their daughter (still clinging and soaking tears and hot breath and sweat all into Madilla's neck), toward the couch. "You must go where the Hall calls you." H'kon lowers his eyes, then. "It was drawn out much too long. The Weyr did little." The couch - yes. Madilla follows, drawing Raija properly into her lap once she's seated, though it's an awkward adjustment at first, especially when she's so eager to keep her gaze upon her weyrmate at all times. "I had no idea that Miska would..." Would do something like that. It makes her wince, even trying to put that much into words. "I've sent him a note. We'll speak first thing tomorrow; I'm sending him back to the Hall. What about..." A pause. "Lilabet. She and Teris were... close." "It shows some discipline," murmurs H'kon, face gone stony, "that he was left in one piece." There's an edge to that near-whisper, serrated more than ragged. He eases in alongside them once Madilla and Raija are both adjusted, settled. "Lilabet was here," sounds like confirmation more than admission. "We worked it out with the Hall. She did not stay long, I imagine in part for lack of you. I've asked Kairek to watch over her, for a time..." More intently than he's done since she became settled. "Arekoth and I can take you to see her. Or bring her, if you like." Madilla presses her free hand upon H'kon's knee; acknowledgement, more than anything. Of her elder daughter, she only nods, just the once. "Thank you," she says. "For being there for her. For... I expect I will be back and forth between here and the Hall a few times." If anything, that makes her sound even more tired; clearly, all she wants to do is stay at the Weyr forever. "I'm glad she found peace, in the end. Poor Teris." H'kon's nod acknowledges those thanks; "Whenever she wishes," acknowledges the reality of his and Lilabet's relationship. That might be what brings a concentrated frown over his face, as he reaches his far hand to brush at Raija's hair (which, of course, only brings about re-burying into Madilla). "As am I." His jaw pushes forward, each row of front teeth pressing the tip of his tongue between them, behind closed lips. Lips stay closed, though. For a few long moments, Madilla is silent, gaze focused back upon Raija, now, rather than on H'kon. It's still to the brownrider that she speaks, though, in the end; that much is clear. "I'd not let you linger," she says - breathes, really, her words so very quiet. "Nor anyone else." H'kon's jaw shifts, ever so slightly, back and forth, once, twice. Teeth then meet with minimal sound. His head, grown a touch shaggy over this last month, lowers slowly, until it can meet Madilla's shoulder. It's not needy, not a lean; the weight is controlled, an embrace of sorts. H'kon's hand, that comes to rest lightly on Raija's back. Arekoth, still silent in his couch, opens his eyes. The gentle weight of H'kon's head upon her shoulder draws, from Madilla, a deep sigh. In different circumstances, it might have been contentment; now, here, given everything, it's perhaps only acknowledgement. "That's all," she says. And, "I'm so glad to be home." In time, H'kon brings his head back up. He's looking past Madilla, though. Past Raija, too. He's looking back at Arekoth. "I cannot imagine," comes, quite like he's not heard Madilla speak at all, "what..." He can refocus, after that. His hand withdraws, to his lap. "You would have done better for Teris." Agreement. "I wouldn't have let her linger," agrees Madilla. "Unless it was what she wanted." She doubts that; that much is audible, and visible too, written plainly across her face. "But it's done. Miska will be... dealt with. I won't let it happen again." H'kon eases back into the couch, looking back to Arekoth once more, and then, again, to Madilla. Her words are given due consideration, which doesn't require too long a pause before he's stating, confidently, "It was not your doing." Raija's legs have finally started to relax, though they are still very much in 'holding on' position. "You went where your Hall bid you go." "I... yes." Madilla allows that, finally, on an exhale. This time, she looks at H'kon, biting at her lip as she attempts to put the rest of her thoughts into words. "I think it's just that I'm angry at them, now, too." That's quieter, not far above a whisper. "It was important work, but I shouldn't have been the one to go." H'kon listens, while slowly shifting, again, to lay one arm along the back of that couch, his body turned the more in toward Madilla and Raija - more comfortable, and where his fingertips can press, lightly, at the healer's shoulder, just shy of a Raija arm. "Not the Weyrhealer," he agrees, though something wavers there, waiting for her to offer more. Watching intently, gaze, for now, not being drawn back to his dragon. "Punishment," says Madilla, letting the word hang in the air between them. "Perhaps followed, now, by more of it, for... putting the wrong healer in my place." It's an uncomfortable thought; it's enough that she closes her eyes, pressing them tight for a few seconds before she can recover her equilibrium. "My craft caused significant emotional distress; I don't know how easily I can forgive it." H'kon remains quiet, though his head moves faintly, acknowledging. His brow is furrowed, of course, as he listens. "On account of Teris? Or..." Fingers tap-press. Madilla hesitates. "Mostly that," she says. "I don't know... perhaps I'm simply over-tired. I suspect Telgar will be receiving poor-quality healers for a time, for making a point of it, and... I expect that, perhaps, I consider High Reaches home far more than my craft, and that complicates matters." She ventures, hesitantly, a smile. "I don't intend to go away again." H'kon's displeasure, his disapproval of that concept, shows in a creasing frown. "To the discredit of the Craft," is damning. But her intention, when voiced, quiets that rancor for a time. Now, he leans forward, pressing a simple kiss for her cheek, eyes closing. "I'd not be ready to lose you." Madilla's fingers play over Raija's dark hair, gently, stroking and smoothing. Of the craft - her Craft - she can only nod; for the kiss, for the words that follow, she's got - at first - only an exhale. Then; "Nor I, you." Raija squeezes her hands and arms again, presses with her knees, and still refuses to lift her head. Madilla might get away, then. Might leave, then. H'kon's eyes remain closed, though, slowly, his head has turned back toward the dragon's couch. "He's present even in this. Dancing colours." Which H'kon is watching, which, surely, he has at least once mentioned to Madilla in the past. "I cannot imagine," repeated, "what would even be left or unchanged." If. "Or if it would just be empty." Fear is a strange timber for the brownrider's voice, but it's there now, a thin tendril. Madilla won't leave; not if she can help it. And especially not now, not with Raija so in need, and H'kon... That tendril of fear has her breath catching, caught and held for the several seconds it takes her to rebalance - even only a little - her own emotions. "I can't imagine you without him," she says, not much above a murmur. "You're... it just doesn't work." That tremor that passed through the whole Weyr now finally in full force upon the rider, now he's spoken it aloud, has H'kon shifting forward, where hands can clasp before him. A moment, then he's turning to consider both Madilla and Raija. Another breath will find him reaching for the little girl's hair, two fingers, lightly. At last, green eyes settle on his weyrmate. "I love you, also," finds shaken tone settled - not by the words themselves, but by a heaved sigh from the brown on the couch, synchronous. "It would be difficult." That much is certain. "I know," is simple enough, encompassing many things that are otherwise too difficult to put into words. Madilla tries - tries so hard! - to turn the corners of her mouth upwards; tries, but fails. "But... I would understand. As best I could." "As would I." His eyes turn back to Raija (who could, at this moment, care less if he's touching her hair or not). They dwell there for a few breaths. "I cannot know, now," has finality to it, with a firm nod to Arekoth. "It was us," still sharing some unspoken thing with his dragon, "who gave her the means." There are things Madilla could say as to those earlier comments; things that probably mattered, perhaps even greatly, to her. But that last remark-- it steals her breath, draws it in tightly, and leaves her quite silent, quite still. From this angle, she can't see the clay jar on its shelf; she doesn't even try to look, not if it would mean disrupting Raija's clingage. Instead, abruptly, on an exhale: "Oh." And, far more quietly: "Thank you." This nod acknowledges those quieter words. H'kon's eyes close again. He leans back, and, for a moment, allows all sides of that confession to be present, before focusing just on the one: "We'll need speak to the weyrleader soon. Y'rel, also. And if your Hall should ask, of course..." Madilla's, "Yes, of course," is just short of brisk, as though this, finally, has given her something solid to focus upon; something to do that is, if not actually practical, something just short of it. She's interrupted, though: Dilan is audible before he makes it to the weyr, feet pounding upon the stone as, "Mom, mom, mom, mom!" precedes him in. The "wu-" of 'would' is the last thing to get off H'kon's lips before the sounds of Dilan can penetrate the multiple thoughts that have been dancing round his head since... well, probably before Madilla got home, even. Arekoth raises his head to attempt a nudge at the boy as he runs past, not to prevent his passing, but because he's there. And H'kon, he's onto his feet, giving a cursory scrub to his face, blinking a few times, just to be sure, and going to see to his mother (much slower in getting up the stairs). Resume full-on family life. |
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