Logs:Imaginary Illnesses
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 17 June, 2011 |
| Who: Lujayn, Madilla, Lilabet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Madilla and Lilabet encounter Lujayn. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 13, Turn 25 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Unfinished. |
   |
| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor. With the snow coming down and creating a pristine white backdrop, it's easy to spot Lujayn in her darker winter clothing. The rider has no exile tagalongs today, moving back and forth along the shore with the scraping noise of a shovel. From time to time she skids out onto the ice to clear a large circle of the latest accumulation, an ongoing and futile attempt to keep the lakeside as clear as possible for the upcoming Turnover festivities. A blink of bright sea green in the sky and an irritated squeak announce one frozen firelizard's arrival, who drops a pilfered roll from the sky and quickly disappears to warmer climates. Lu bends to pick up the roll and dusts it of snow, leaning against the shovel as she watches the empty sky thoughtfully. "Mama, mama!" squeals a tiny voice, the toddler - a dark haired girl between the ages of two and three - bending over from the waist to look at something buried in the snow. Whatever it is, her mother - equally dark-haired Madilla - crouches to get a better look, murmuring encouragements before the child hares off again in another direction. Turning her gaze after her enthusiastic offspring, the healer's attention falls on Lujayn and her upward glance; she crosses towards the other woman, allowing, albeit only for a moment, her own gaze to be drawn upwards. "Something missing up there?" she wonders, aloud. "More snow?" Lujayn offers jokingly to Madilla, biting into her roll. "Seems awfully quiet, though." Not even a shadow can be seen against the clouds, or else all the action is high above. She bends to scoop another shovelful into a snowbank, creating a short wall of sorts to one side. There isn't much to say, at least not about anything happening right that moment - so the junior weyrwoman ventures into deeper waters. "Are any of the islanders in the infirmary shaping up?" She turns. "I heard about another death.." Madilla's nose wrinkles at this concept of /more/ snow, but she doesn't remark on it. Although she's obviously listening, her gaze is following the small figure of her daughter as the child explores snowdrifts that are big enough for her to hide behind. At least her bright red cap makes her easy to see. "Some of them are," confirms the healer, in a tone that does nothing to hide how distressing she finds it. "We're over the worst, of course, but... I don't like to think about the total death toll, to be honest. I just hope the rest of them start to improve." Lujayn pauses in her scraping of icy buildup, hard-pressed to have a conversation and carry on at the same time. She opts to toss the shovel into a nearby snowdrift, bringing her roll back out. Her fingers work at it a little anxiously as she speaks, though her voice is calm. "That's good news I can bring them. Just when I've got one convinced that 'dragon pox' doesn't exist, two more start up about glowing golds causing deathly fevers. That's what I get for giving them kids' books to read." She shakes her head with a sigh. "I've been meaning to drop in, but.." Shrug. There's no good explanation for her absence. "Maybe tomorrow." Despite herself, Madilla can't help but chuckle at the concept of dragon pox, and the rest. She risks a glance at the Junior Weyrwoman, covering her mouth with her hand, though her amusement shows in her eyes, too: glinting, merry. "I shouldn't laugh," she says, finally, restraining herself. "It's not funny. I can't imagine how overwhelming it would all be. I suppose it's a good study on how misinformation spreads; it doesn't seem to take much." Returning her gaze to her daughter, who at least seems willing to stay relatively close, she adds, "I can't blame anyone for not. Visiting, I mean." Lujayn's own laugh is short but easy, nodding. "Maybe misinformation is better than no information." She grins in return, picking bits of the roll to toss out to errant birds looking for a crumb. "If we take everything too seriously, we end up with encyclopedias full of fake diseases. It's okay to laugh." It's her turn to follow gazes, now watching the progress of the little red-capped girl. "I'll make a point of it, then. Special Turnover deliveries and all, if I can manage it." All this just goes to show her willingness to please the newcomers, to make them a part of the whole. "I hope they're not giving you any trouble." "Maybe it is," says Madilla, though she doesn't sound entirely sure of it. She tugs her scarf closer about her neck, breathing out a cold, white plume of air. "I still feel like I shouldn't. I feel awful for them. It must be-- so much to understand. I remember how difficult it was when /I/ came to the weyr, and I imagine that was nothing compared to this." Out in the snow, Lilabet has started making snow angels, though what they'd actually call them on Pern, who knows. It seems to be enough to make Madilla smile, though. "It sounds like you're really working hard to help them. I'm glad. They're-- no, they're mostly fine." |
Leave A Comment